"Granua," said her mother, reprovingly, "think of yourself and what
you are about; if you worn't a light-hearted, and, I'm afeard, a
light-headed, girl, too, you wouldn't go on as you do, especially when
you know what you know, and what Barney here, too, knows."

"Ah," said Barney, his whole manner immediately changing, "have you
heard from him, poor fellow?"

"Torley's gone to the mountains," she replied, "and--but here he is.
Well, Torley, what news, asthore?"

Her husband having passed a friendly greeting to Barney, sat down, and
having taken off his hat, lifted the skirt of his cothamore (big coat)
and wiped the perspiration off his large and manly forehead, on which,
however, were the traces of deep care. He did not speak for some time,
but at length said:

"Bridget, give me a drink."

His wife took a wooden noggin, which she dipped into a churn and handed
him. Having finished it at a draught, he wiped his mouth with his
gathered, palm, breathed deeply, but was still silent.

"Torley, did you hear me? What news of that unfortunate boy?"

"No news, Bridget, at least no good news; the boy's an outlaw, and will
be an outlaw--or rather he won't be an outlaw long; they'll get him
soon."

"But why would they get him? hasn't he sense enough to keep from them?"