“The custom is not understood in this country,” said Mary quietly; and they flounced indignantly down upon the sofa and glowered about them. “Luk at that stuck-up shtrap, McGlory’s wife, makin’ game av uz,” muttered Bridget. “Sure an’ iv she’d git her drunken brother out av the House av Correction ’t wud be fitter for her!” “Ah, the big, fat hussy!” exclaimed Ellen, “it’s well I raymimber the toime whin her owld man drove an ash cart, an’ hersilf tuk in washin’.” All unknowing, Mrs. McGlory was smoothing out her silk dress and hoping that the others noticed the sparkle of her chip diamond ring. “Mary,” inquired she, leaning forward as far as her tight waist would permit, “is it owld Kate Sweeney yez’ll have till lay him out?” “I hadn’t thought of that,” answered Mary, “but I suppose so.” “Kate do have illigant taste,” affirmed Mrs. Clancy. “Troth she do that!” spoke Mrs. McGonagle, “an’ sorra a few have doide in the parish in the last thirty years that she haven’t put the shroud on. Ye’ll have till have some wan, Mary, an’ yez moight as well put the troifle av money in the poor owld crayture’s way.” The door bell rang softly, and Mary went to answer it. “Is Rosie not here the noight Ellen?” asked Mrs. Burns. “She do be in her bed, the crayter,” answered Ellen rather stiffly. “It’s up t’ree nights han’ runnin’ she’s bin wid him,” with a nod toward the box, “as he lay sick; an’ a bit av slape’ll do her no hurt.” “Rosie have a good heart,” said Mrs. Clancy. “True for yez,” put in Mrs. McGonagle, “sure an’ iv it hadn’t been for her, what ’ud Mary done at all, at all!” “Spakin’ av Mary,” said Mrs. McGlory; “where did she get her eddycation? It’s carry herself very ladyloike, she do.” “She wur taught in a convent in Dublin,” said Mrs. Clancy. “I t’ought it wur somethin’ av the koind,” said the contractor’s wife, “seein’ that she goes till the altar ivery second Sunday. It’s a good livin’ girl she is.” “None better. But, God betune us an’ all harm, it’s delicate she is. She have a bad cough.” Mary re-entered, accompanied by a pretty girl, very showily dressed, and a young man. “How do yez do, Bella?” greeted Mrs. McGonagle. “An’ is it yezsilf Dick?” “I’m very well, thanks,” answered the girl, stealing a side glance at the looking-glass and arranging her fluffy bang. “How have you been?” “I have me health, thanks be till God.” “Tim wur tellin’ me, Dick,” said Mrs. Burns, “that yez have got him a job av wurk. It’s pray for yez this noight, I will.” “I need it,” laughed young Nolan, “so fire ahead, Mrs. Burns.” He walked back toward the kitchen, his sister following him. “Bella!” called Mary, “won’t you sit here? The men are all in there, you know.” “I’ll be back in a second,” said Bella, over her shoulder. “I on’y want t’ take a peep.” And she disappeared into the kitchen. “Hark till that!” exclaimed Bridget O’Hara, looking about, grimly. “It’s young Kelly she do be lookin’ after.”