"She asked me, 'Will you please not be nickin' or crackin' the dishes, Pat?' And says I, 'I'll be careful, Mrs. Brady.' But I wonder what makes 'em have these thin sort of dishes. I never seen none like 'em nowhere else." Dinner was over and Pat was alone in the kitchen. [Illustration: The General makes the gravy.] "But the General makin' the gravy was fine, and sure I never tasted no better gravy neither. I wish I could just be lettin' 'em know at home. Mike will have to be turnin' into a girl, too, one of these days, and it might ease him a bit if he could know the General wasn't above cookin'. My mother said I'd be comin' to visit 'em when my work was done, if Mrs. Brady could spare me." A half-hour later a trim-looking boy presented himself at the sitting-room door. "Come in, Pat," invited the General, looking up from his paper with a smile. Pat smiled back again, but it was to Mrs. Brady that he turned as he entered the room. "Mrs. Brady, ma'am," he said, "the dishes are done and the kitchen made neat. Will you have me to be doin' something more for you this evenin'?" "No, Pat," replied Mrs. Brady kindly. "Your work, for to-day, is done. You may take off your apron." "Yes, ma'am. Would you kindly be lettin' me go home a little while then?" Pat's look was eager but submissive. "Certainly, Pat," was the reply. "Take the kitchen key with you." "Thank you, kindly, ma'am," returned Pat gratefully. And with another smile for the General, who had not resumed his reading, the boy left the room, and, shortly after, the house. "Listen!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan, with uplifted ringer. And the rollicking talk about her ceased on the instant. "'Tis Pat's step I hear outside, and here he is, sure enough. Now, b'ys, don't all of you be on him at wanst. Let him sit down in the father's chair." Pat, feeling the honor paid him, and showing that he felt it, sat down. The little boys crowded around him with their news. Jim and Andy got as near to him as they could for furniture, while Mike looked at him from the farther side of the tiny room with a heart full of love and admiration in his eyes. They had not seen Pat since Saturday morning except at school that day, and that was not like having him at home with them. "And how does your work come on?" asked his mother as soon as she could get in a word. "Fine," said Pat. "'Tis an elegant place." Then, with an air that tried hard to be natural, he added, "The General himself made the gravy to-day." "What!" exclaimed his mother. "The Gineral!" "He did," said Pat. "He put on one of Mrs. Brady's aprons, and 'twas fine gravy, too." The widow looked her astonishment. "And do you call that foine?" she demanded at last. "The Gineral havin' to make his own gravy? What was you a-doin', Pat?"