"What are you going to do wid it?" she asked; "is it to the Grange it's
goin'?"

"It is an' I want you to help me in what I mentioned to you. If I get
what I'm promised, we'll lave the country, you and I, and as for
that ould vagabond, we'll pitch her to ould Nick. She's talking about
devotion and has nothing but Providence in her lips."

"But isn't there a Providence?" asked his daughter, with a sparkling
eye.

"Devil a much myself knows or cares," he replied, with indifference,
"whether there is or not."

"Bekase if there is," she said, pausing--"if there is, one might as
well--"

She paused again and her fine features assumed an intellectual
meaning--a sorrowful and meditative beauty, that gave a new and more
attractive expression to her face than her father had ever witnessed on
it before.

"Don't vex me, Sarah," he replied, snappishly. "Maybe it's goin' to
imitate her you are. The clargy knows these things maybe--an' maybe they
don't. I only wish she'd come back with the caaharrawan. If all goes
right, I'll pocket what'll bring yourself an' me to America. I'm
beginnin' somehow to get unaisy; an' I don't wish to stay in this
country any longer."