first time—there it is, Norah dear, and she's called it Norah after my grandchild, sir, because Norah has been kind like in her ways to poor Biddy, who is to be sure, a little bit of a scold, and always in a hubbub of some kind or other. My landlord leased me this piece of ground for ten years; but well he may, for I have made this house quite comfortable, you see. There are three rooms, small enough to be sure, but if I have to leave it, and oh, how loath I shall be to go from it, he will get thirty-six dollars for it instead of twelve—only think of that. He is a good man, and I dare say when I ask him to renew my lease, for the sake of the good I have done to his property, he will rent the place to me for thirty dollars."
"Well, well," said Mr. Price, who had been musing during this long speech, "don't think about your rent for the next year, or the year after,—don't cry, Norah, your grandmother shall have no rent to pay for five years, if you will always be as good a girl as you are now. Who taught you to read, Norah?—come kiss me, my child, and don't sob so; you are on my lap, and your crying jars my lame foot."
"Oh, grandmother," said the little girl, "tell the gentleman why we don't want to go away from this pleasant house,"—and she pointed to a small enclosure on a rising hill a little way from the road.
"It is a burial ground, your honour," said Mrs. M'Curdy in a low subdued tone, "and under that old hemlock tree poor Norah's mother lies buried."
Mr. Price, whose sympathies had been long pent up; in fact, who had been soured towards all the world; for his disappointment both in his marriage and in his only child, had been severely felt; now suffered himself to be deeply interested in the fate of this innocent family, he pressed the child closer
