* A small pathway or bridle road leading to a farm-house.

“When the stranger came as far as the skirt of the green, he turned the horse over quite nathural to the wedding; and, sure enough, when he jogged up, it was Friar Rooney himself, with a sack of oats, for he had been questin.* Well, sure the ould people couldn’t do less nor all go over to put the failtah** on him.  ‘Why, then,’ says my father and mother-in-law, ’’tis yourself, Friar Rooney, that’s as welcome as the flowers of May; and see who’s here before you—­Father Corrigan, and Father Dollard.’

     * Questin—­When an Irish priest or friar collects corn or
     money from the people in a gratuitous manner, the act is
     called “questin.”

     ** Welcome.

“’Thank you, thank you, Molshy—­thank you, Matthew—­troth, I know that ‘tis I am welcome.’

“‘Ay, and you’re welcome again, Father Rooney,’ said my father, going down and shaking hands with him, ’and I’m proud to see you here.  Sit down, your Reverence—­here’s everything that’s good, and plinty of it, and if you don’t make much of yourself, never say an ill fellow dealt with you.’

“The friar stood while my father was speaking, with a pleasant, contented face upon him, only a little roguish and droll.

“‘Hah!  Shane Fadh,’ says he, smiling dryly at me, ’you did them all, I see.  You have her there, the flower of the parish, blooming beside you; but I knew as much six months ago, ever since I saw you bid her good-night at the hawthorn.  Who looked back so often, Mary, eh?  Ay, laugh and blush—­do—­throth, ’twas I that caught you, but you didn’t see me, though.  Well, a colleen, and if you did, too, you needn’t be ashamed of your bargain, any how.  You see, the way I came to persave yez that evening was this—­but I’ll tell it, by and by.  In the mane time,’ says he, sitting down and attacking a fine piece of corn-beef and greens, ‘I’ll take care of a certain acquaintance of mine,’ says he.  ’How are you, reverend gintlemen of the Secularily?  You’ll permit a poor friar to sit and ate his dinner, in your presence, I humbly hope.’

“‘Frank,’ says Father Corrigan, ’lay your hand upon your conscience, or upon your stomach, which is the same thing, and tell us honestly, how many dinners you eat on your travels among my parishioners this day.’

“’As I’m a sinner, Michael, this is the only thing to be called a dinner I eat this day;—­Shane Fadh—­Mary, both your healths, and God grant you all kinds of luck and happiness, both here and hereafter!  All your healths in gineral! gintlemen seculars!’

“‘Thank you, Frank,’ said Father Corrigan; how did you speed to-day?’

“‘How can any man speed, that comes after you?’ says the Friar; ’I’m after travelling the half of the parish for that poor bag of oats that you see standing against the ditch.’

“‘In other words, Frank,’ says the Priest, ’you took Allhadhawan in your way, and in about half a dozen houses filled your sack, and then turned your horse’s head towards the good cheer, by way of accident only.’