But little Jim turned a deaf ear to his mother's wisdom. He was thinking what wonderful dishes he would concoct, and how often they would have pudding. Pudding was Jim's favorite food, and something seldom seen on the widow's table. Little Jim resolved to change the bill of fare, and to go without pudding only when he must. He could not hope to put his plans into operation for many months to come, however; so, with a sigh, he opened his eyes and ears again to what was passing around him, and was just in time to see Barney and Tommie marching to bed an hour later than usual. They had been permitted to sit up till half-past eight in honor of Mike's good fortune. Had their mother known all, they might have stayed in the kitchen engaged in the difficult task of keeping their eyes open at least an hour longer. But they were fast enough asleep in their bed when Pat came gaily in. "Ah, Pat, my b'y, you kept still at supper toime famous, so you did, but the news is out," began Mrs. O'Callaghan. "It's Moike that's in luck, and sure he desarves it." "That he does, mother," agreed Pat heartily. "But will you say the same for me if I tell you something?" The widow regarded him anxiously. There could not be bad news! "Out with it quick, Pat!" she cried. "Well, then, mother," said Pat with mock resignation in his tone and a sparkle of fun in his eye, "I'm to have forty dollars a month." "Forty dollars!" repeated the mother. "Forty dollars! That's the Gineral's doin's again. B'ys, I'd be proud to see any wan of you crawl on your knees to sarve the Gineral. Look at all he's done for us, and us doin' nothin' to desarve it, only doin' our best." And there were tears in the widow's eyes. "But, mother," resumed Pat, "'tis yourself has the bad luck." "And what do you mean, Pat?" "You've lost another wash place to-night." Mrs. O'Callaghan smiled. "Are you sure of it?" she asked. "I am," was the determined answer. "Have it your own way. You and Moike are headstrong b'ys, so you are. If you kape on I'll have nothin' to do but to sit with my hands folded. And that's what your father was always plazed to see me do." The two brothers exchanged glances of satisfaction, while Andy looked wistfully on and little Jim frowned jealously. "Now, mother," said Pat, "I've the thought for you. It came to me to-day in the store. 'Tis the best thought ever I had. Andy's going to college." The delicate boy started. How had Pat divined the wish of his heart? "'Tis Andy that will make us all proud, if only he can go to college," concluded this unselfish oldest brother. The widow glanced at the lit-up countenance and eager eyes of her third son, and, loth to rouse hopes that might later have to be dashed down, observed, "Thim colleges are ixpinsive, I belave." Andy's face clouded with anxiety. There must be a chance for him, or Pat would not have spoken with so much certainty.