they are scooped out and the bread is put in their place. Interesting,
isn't it? But we are going to get a modern slide oven."

After viewing the orchard and the beehives beneath the trees, I remarked on
the size of the plant, and its suitability for his purpose. He said:

"It used to belong to the gombeen man."



The sea wind was blowing through the open windows of the mill. Barefoot
girls--it's only on Sunday that Donegal country girls wear shoes and then
they put them on only when they are quite near church--silently needled
khaki-worsted over the shining wire prongs. Others spindled wool for new
work. As they stood or sat at their work, the shy colleens told of an extra
room added to a cabin, or a plump sum to a dowry through the money earned
at the mill. None of them was planning, as their older sisters had had to
plan, to go to Scotland or America.

"As the parents of most of the girls are members in the society they want
the best working conditions possible for them," said Mr. Gallagher as he
took me out the back entrance of the knitting mill. "So we're building this
new factory. See that hole where we blasted for granite; we got enough for
the entire mill in one blast. That motor is for the electricity to be used
in the plant.

"Northern sky lights in the new building--the evenest light comes from the
north. Cement floor--good for cleaning but bad for the girls, so we are to
have cork matting for them to stand on. Slide-in seats under the
tables--that's so that a girl may stand or sit at her work."