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 was greatest, I could not but recall an interview which I had had with Andy that morning, and which was not of my seeking, but of his.

After breakfast I had been in my room, making myself as smart as I could, for of course I hoped to see Norah—when I heard a knock at the door, timid but hurried. When I called to "come in," Andy's head appeared; and then his whole body was by some mysterious wriggle conveyed through the partial opening of the door. When within, he closed it, and, putting a finger to his lip, said in a mysterious whisper:—

"Masther Art!"

"Well Andy! what is it?"

"Whisper me now! Shure I don't want to see yer 'an'r so onasy in yer mind."

I guessed what was coming, so interrupted him, for I was determined to get even with him.

"Now, Andy! if you have any nonsense about your 'Miss Norah,' I don't want to hear it."

"Whisht! surr; let me shpake. I mustn't kape Misther Dick waitin'. Now take me advice! an' take a luk out to Shleenanaher. Ye may see some wan there what ye don't ixpect!"—this was said with a sly mysteriousness, impossible to describe.

"No! no! Andy," said I, looking as sad as I could, "I can see no one there that I don't expect."

"They do say, surr, that the fairies does take quare shapes; and your fairy girrul may have gone to