So Janet rode gently along the stony path, and in the course of time found herself drawing in her reins by the low mud hovel, which looked to her scarcely like a human habitation.
The moment she appeared in sight two lean dogs of the cur species came out and barked vociferously. Miss Nelly was, however, accustomed to the barking of dogs, and did not take any notice. At the same instant a stoutly built, gray-headed woman rushed out of the cabin and helped her to alight.
Janet felt a slight sense of discomfort when she recognized in this woman the person who had warned her not to drink the water of the Holy Well. It was not in her nature, however, to show her discomfort, except by an extra degree of pertness.
"How do you do?" she said, nodding to the woman, and springing to the ground as she spoke. "I have not begun to dwindle yet, you see."
"Why, me dear, it is to be hoped not," answered Norah, in quick retort; "for, faix! then, you are so small already that if you grow any less there'll be nothing for the eye to catch hould of. But come into the cottage, missy; Miss Biddy is sitting by Pat, and comforting the boy a bit with her purty talk."
"Pat!" whispered Janet to herself. Her feeling of discomfort did not grow less. The name of Pat seemed in some queer way familiar, but it did not occur to her to connect it with the friends about whom Bridget had cried at Mulberry Court.
She had to stoop her head to enter the hovel, and could not help looking round the dirty little place with disgust.
"I have come, Biddy," she exclaimed. "I don't suppose you want to stay long; this cottage is very, very close. I don't care to stop here myself, but I can walk about while you are talking to your friends."
"Oh, pray, don't!" said Bridget, springing to her feet; "I want to introduce you to Pat. Come here, please!" She seized Janet's small wrist, and pulled her forward. "Mr. Patrick Donovan—Miss Janet May. This man, Janet, whom I have introduced to you as Patrick Donovan, is one of my very dearest friends."
"At your sarvice, miss," said Pat, blushing a fiery red, and pulling his forelock awkwardly with one big, rather dirty hand.