"It's a foine day, Mistress McVeigh," greeted old Mr. Conors, at the sight of her.
"It is that, and more, too, Mr. Conors," she assented, including the two men before her in her remark.
"This spell o' weather's bad fer the crops. I'll have to stop at the pump altogether if it don't rain soon."
"You're welcome to your choice. If ye want a drink and can pay fer it, I am pleased to serve ye, but I ask no man fer what he cannot afford," was Nancy's rejoinder, as she wiped her hands on her apron after drawing the mugs.
"Been to town?" she inquired, after a minute's reflection.
"Yes, and a bad place it is to save money. The women folk have so many things to buy that I often wonder where the pay for the seed grain'll come from. Had to buy the missus a shawl, and two yards of flannel for the kids to-day, and heaven only knows what they will be wanting next week, when school begins again," commented Mr. Conors.
"'Tis a God's blessing to have your childer, the bright, wee things! They keep us from fergittin' altogether," said Nancy, sighing, and looking abstractedly out of the window.
"She is thinkin', poor woman," observed Mr. O'Hagan, in a low tone.
"Ye have quite a squad yerself, Nancy," ventured Mr. Conors.
"Yes," she agreed, "there's Sam Duncan's little girl. You remember big Sam, who was drowned in his own well?" Mr. Conors nodded. "And Jennie—but she's a rare young lass now, and waits on table as well as I can do. If I could spare her I'd send her to school, fer she needs book learnin' more than she's got at present, but it's hard work I have to keep up the old place, and I'm not as able fer it as I was the first years after McVeigh died. Then I have Will Devitt's boy. He's past eighteen now, and handy about the stables. If it was not fer him I'm thinkin' old Donald would never manage at all."