Almost instantly, out of a small window that opened on hinges, was
protruded a broad female face, surrounded, by way of nightcap, with
several folds of flannel, that had originally been white.

"Is Mary Moan at home?" said the horseman.

"For a miricle-ay!" replied the female; "who's _down_, in the name o'
goodness?"

"Why, thin, I'm thinkin' you'll be smilin' whin you hear it," replied
the messenger. "The sorra one else than Honor Donovan, that's now marrid
upon Fardorougha Donovan to the tune of thirteen years. Bedad, time for
her, anyhow,--but, sure it'll be good whin it comes, we're thinkin'."

"Well, betther late than never--the Lord be praised for all His gifts,
anyhow. Put your horse down to the mountin'-stone, and I'll be wid you
in half a jiffy, acushla."

She immediately drew in her head, and ere the messenger had well placed
his horse at the aforesaid stirrup, or mounting-stone, which is an
indispensable adjunct to the midwife's cottage, she issued out, cloaked
and bonneted; for, in point of fact, her practice was so extensive, and
the demands upon her attendance so incessant, that she seldom, if ever,
slept or went to bed, unless partially dressed. And such was her habit
of vigilance, that she ultimately became an illustration of the old
Roman proverb, _Non dormio omnibus_; that is to say, she could sleep as
sound as a top to every possible noise except a knock at the door, to
which she might be said, during the greater part of her professional
life, to have been instinctively awake.