him--and had come.

"Faith," said Teig, trying another laugh, "Barney can fast for the
once; 'twill be all the same in a month's time." And he fell to
thinking of the gold again. A knock came at the door. Teig pulled
himself down in his chair where the shadow would cover him, and held
his tongue.

"Teig, Teig!" It was the widow O'Donnelly's voice. "If ye are there,
open your door. I have not got the pay for the spriggin' this month,
an' the childher are needin' food."

But Teig put the leash on his tongue, and never stirred till he heard
the tramp of her feet going on to the next cabin. Then he saw to it
that the door was tight-barred. Another knock came, and it was a
stranger's voice this time:

"The other cabins are filled; not one but has its hearth crowded; will
ye take us in--the two of us? The wind bites mortal sharp, not a morsel
o' food have ne tasted this day. Masther, will ye take us in?"

But Teig sat on, a-holding his tongue; and the tramp of the strangers'
feet passed down the road. Others took their place--small feet,
running. It was the miller's wee Cassie, and she called out as she ran
by.

"Old Barney's watchin' for ye. Ye'll not be forgettin' him, will ye,
Teig?"

And then the child broke into a song, sweet and clear, as she passed