that always wobbled in their gums when she spoke. Presently she turned to Malachi again:
"Ye mustn't think haard o' him, Misther Nol'n, he's a bit back'ard shp'akin' to th' loikes o' ye, ye moind, but he's a good b'y, an' he'd never got into throuble if it hadn't been for this bad comp'ny he be's dhragged into. Shure, he niver shtays out later'n tin o'clock o' noights widout tellin' me p'here he's been. This afthernoon Oi was shcrubbin' awaay all alone, an' who should come in all o' a suddint but him, bless th' b'y, an' saay, 'Ma,' he says, 'Alderman Nol'n got me a paardon an' Oi—'"
"That's all right, Misthress McGlone—"
"An' God'll bless ye, sor," the old woman broke in, unable to restrain the flood of tears that filled her filmy eyes and zigzagged down her cheeks. She cried softly a moment, then suddenly looked up in a crafty, cunning way.
"They's wan thing, Misther Nol'n," she said, "some wan was so good," she looked all about to make sure that none was within hearing, and lowered her voice to a rough whisper, "as to sind me a ton o' coal in a pushcaart th' day. Oi wonder now who could that be?"
