Hanlon made her no reply, but took his hat off, and once more offered up
a short prayer, apparently in deep and most extraordinary excitement.

"I see," she observed, after he had concluded, "that you're bent on your
devotions this night; and the devil's own place you've pitched upon for
them."

"Well, now," replied Hanlon, "I'll be biddin' you good-night; but before
you go, promise to get me that tobaccy-box you found; it's the least you
may give it to me for Peggy Murray's handkerchy."

"Hut," returned Sally, "it's not worth a thraneen; you couldn't use it
even if you had it; sure it's both rusty and broken."

"No matther for that," he replied; "I want to play a thrick on Peggy
Murray wid it, so as to have a good laugh against her--the pair of
us--you wid the handkerchy, and me wid the tobaccy-box."

"Very well," she replied. "Ha! ha! ha!--that'll be great. At any rate,
I've a crow to pluck wid the same Peggy Murray. Oh, never you fear, you
must have it; the minnit I get my hands on it, I'll secure it for you."
After a few words more of idle chat they separated; he to his master's
house, which was a considerable distance off; and this extraordinary
creature--unconscious of the terrors and other weaknesses that render
her sex at once so dependent on and so dear to man--full only of delight
at the expected glee of the wake--to the house of death where it was
held.

In the country parts of Ireland it is not unusual for those who come to
a wake-house from a distance, to remain there until the funeral takes