"Puttin' th' love of God in ye isn't like stuffin' yer mouth with a pirta, 'Liza!"

"That's so, it is, but he might thry, Anna!"

"Well, ye'll haave 'im."

Mr. Green came and gave 'Liza what consolation he could. He read the appropriate prayer, repeated the customary words. He did it all in a tender tone and departed.

"Ye feel fine afther that, don't ye, 'Liza?"

"Aye, but Henry's dead an' will no come back!"

"Did ye expect Mr. Green t' bring 'im?"

"No."

"What did ye expect, 'Liza?"

"I dunno."