That night as the widow and her boys sat outside the door in the cool, quick steps came down the track, crunching the slack and cinders that filled the spaces between the ties. It was Pat who was coming, and his face was anxious. "What ails you, mother dear?" he cried lovingly. "Why, nothin', Pat, only I've got some sons that spoils me, so I have, a-makin' much of me. 'Tis a dreadful complaint, ain't it? But there's mothers as is not loike to die of it." And she laughed half tearfully. She had been nearer breaking down that morning than she would admit, and her nerves were still a little unsteady. "Andy told me at recess Mike was stayin' home to wash, and I didn't know what to think. I've been worryin' about it ever since, and the minute my work was done I come a-flyin' to see." "You needn't worry no more, Pat. Sure, and I thought when the chance come for you to go to Mrs. Gineral Brady 'twas because the Lord saw our need. And that was it, no doubt, but there's more to it, Pat. You went that I might foind out what koind of a b'y Moike is. You moind what I told you about permotions, Pat? 'Twas your steppin' up that give Moike his chance to show what he could do. And Moike was ready for it. Chances don't do nobody no good that ain't ready for 'em. Andy there is a-watchin', I know." The frail little fellow smiled. There was some light on the group, thrown from the electric light tower, but not enough to show the wistfulness of the boy's face, and the widow burned no oil in summer. Privately, Andy was afraid chances would not do him much good. "Why," continued the widow, "even the little b'ys, Barney and Tommie, was a-watchin' the other day for chances. 'Twas them that wanted to be takin' the job of drivin' the cows from Andy and Jim, and leavin' their geese to do it, too. There's big b'ys, I'm thinkin', that's after cows when geese would be better suited to 'em." Barney and Tommie were drowsing, but Jim blushed. He knew that reproof was meant for him. Mrs. O'Callaghan had been thinking about her fourth son to-day in the unaccustomed leisure given her by Mike. "How it is I don't know," she mused, "but he do have a wonderful knack at rilin' up the little b'ys, and he'd iver be doin' somethin' he can't do at all. I'll be lookin' into Jim's case. There shan't wan of Tim's b'ys be sp'iled if I can help it." "It's time you was goin', ain't it, Pat?" suggested Mike. At this breach of hospitality the widow was astounded. Mike to speak like that! For a second Pat seemed hurt. "I could have stayed half an hour longer, but I'll go," he said, rising. "And I'll go with you a ways!" exclaimed Mike, jumping up very promptly. Pat's farewells were said and the two were off before Mrs. O'Callaghan had recovered herself enough to remonstrate. "I wanted to be talkin' to you, Pat, and I didn't want mother to hear. That kitchen's too hot for her to sleep in, and that's the truth." "But there ain't no other place," answered Pat anxiously.