“But I am not,” said Maggie, with a laugh. “Why you have said yourself, Daddy, that I earn more in a month than you ever did with Mr. McMullen.” “Is it have me sponge on yez bit av wages ye’d have me do?” exclaimed the old man. “God forgimme, Maggie, I couldn’t do that.” The door bell rang at this moment. “It’s Mr. Mason, I suppose,” said Maggie. “He told me that he would drop in during the evening, and said that he wanted to speak to you.” But it was Annie Clancy, the grocer’s daughter, a quiet, pretty girl, and a great favourite of Maggie’s. “I only came in to say that Mary Carroll is coming around to see you,” announced Annie. “She said that she was afraid you’d be goin’ out, so she asked me to run around and tell you to wait.” “An’ how is young McGonagle, Annie?” asked Owen, banteringly. “Now, Daddy!” warned Maggie, with uplifted finger. “What harm?” persisted Owen, who delighted to twit the girl about her sweetheart. “Sure, they tell me, Annie, that he do sarve yez father wid better milk than any av his other customers.” Annie tossed her head. “He don’t,” denied she. “And even if he did,” regretfully, “Pop wouldn’t like him any better.” “An’ does not take till Goose?” inquired Owen. “You know he don’t. And it’s all because Goose is in debt to Mr. O’Hara. Pop says he’ll never be able to keep a wife; and that he’ll be sold out.” Owen saw the tears in the girl’s eyes, and said gently. “Don’t mind, Annie. You’ll have him, never fear. Goose is a good b’y till his mother an’ that kind do have luck.” “I’ll have to go now, Maggie,” said the grocer’s daughter. “Pop’s going to the Clan-na-Gael meeting to-night and I have to tend store.” Annie had hardly left when Mason came, and he had barely been welcomed when Mary Carroll followed. The two men were left in the parlour to discuss the matter of Mason’s visit, while the girls withdrew to the sitting room upstairs. “I could not delay telling you any longer, Maggie dear,” said Mary. “It came so sudden after poor Uncle Larry’s death that we have been keeping it a secret.” “A secret?” exclaimed Maggie. “Tell me, quick.” “Larry Murphy has asked me to be his wife.” A quick change came over Maggie’s face; she paled, then flushed, and faltered when she tried to speak. “Why, Maggie,” said Mary, anxiously. “What’s the matter?” But Maggie had recovered quickly and replied: “I am only glad, Mary--glad for your sake; you will be very happy; for Larry has a good heart.” “It came so strangely, too,” said Mary, a happy light in her quiet eyes. “We barely knew each other, I mean in the conventional sense, but I must have loved him and he must have loved me for ever so long without either of us knowing it. And, oh, he thinks so much of you, Maggie; why, you and he were boy and girl together, and yet I don’t remember ever hearing you speak of him.” “We have not seen much of each other for a long time,” said Maggie quietly.