milk-pans, her unwieldy arms making certain involuntary revolutions,
causing the air to resound with a chorus, which might have done credit
to the first callithumpian in the land.

"Ho! what is all this?" cried Mr. Santon, who had stepped in at the
commencement of the prelude; "what are you looking for under those
pans, Biddy?"

"Sure, sir, and it's mesilf that's afther being exterpretated intirely!
The varmints! faith, there was a dozen, sir, came scratching at me;" and
she pointed at the aperture, as if in dread expectation of seeing their
ghosts in pursuit; but lo! instead, there was the full, round face of
Pat, who, having been left to take up his night's lodging with the
creatures, in the apology for a barn, had espied the light, and not
being able to resist the temptation of getting one more glimpse at the
"swate Biddy," he had ventured to look in, and catching a glimpse of her
woebegone face from among the shining tins, he exclaimed:

"Och, honey dear, and has it come to this? that yese obliged to make
yese bed of the likes of that! And if ye'll wait a bit it's mesilf
that'll run and fetch some of the nate, saft sthraw, that ye can fill
the tins, and 'twill do ye betther; indade, and it's none but a hathen
that could endure the likes of that!"

"Ah! Pathrick, is it ye? and was ye pint up in there wid the crathurs?"

"Yes, it's mesilf that will be risting with the bastes, the night," said
Pat, thinking she had alluded to the creatures in the barn; "and I'll be
wishing ye swate dhrames, and a plinty' of thim;" saying which he
disappeared, leaving the trembling Biddy in great anxiety of mind as to