nothing to give them thus early in the morning, and scarcely heeds their
cackling and crowing. The fierce house-dog, however, will be noticed as
bounding through the poultry, and knocking down one luckless hen, he
jumps upon his mistress, and almost oversets her also. The 'Down Lion,
down,' of the 'gintle voice,' serves only to make him more
demonstrative, as he gambols roughly on her path as she proceeds towards
the barn.

Mrs Prothero--such is the name of our farm-lady--had been haunted all
night long by visions of the poor Irish girl. She had not slept as
soundly as the other members of her family, because there was a
fellow-creature suffering within her little circle. Although she had
lived nearly fifty years in the world, and had been variously cheated
and imposed upon by beggars of all kinds, her heart was still open to
'melting charity,' and liable to be again and again deceived. As she
stopped before the barn door with the key in her hand, Lion began a low
growl. He could never get over his antipathy to Irish beggars, and all
his mistress's influence was necessary to prevent the growl becoming a
bark. She put her ear to the door and listened, but no sound disturbed
the stillness within. She knocked gently, but there was no answer. At
last she thought she heard a feeble voice say something which she
interpreted into 'Come in,' and she turned the key in the lock of the
door and opened the top half of it. She looked in, and saw all her
mendicant guests in profound repose, excepting the girl Gladys, who
endeavoured to rise as she perceived the kindly face, but fell back
again immediately. She unclosed the other half of the door, and
carefully excluding Lion, by shutting it after her, walked softly across
the barn to the rough couch on which Gladys lay. She appeared to be in
the same state of exhaustion as on the previous night; and if she had
noticed Mrs Prothero at all, the transient effort was over, and she