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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31362-h.zip b/31362-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8fb2650 --- /dev/null +++ b/31362-h.zip diff --git a/31362-h/31362-h.htm b/31362-h/31362-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d285c31 --- /dev/null +++ b/31362-h/31362-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7520 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Weans at Rowallan, by Kathleen Fitzpatrick +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +H4.h4center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Weans at Rowallan, by Kathleen Fitzpatrick + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Weans at Rowallan + +Author: Kathleen Fitzpatrick + +Illustrator: A. Guy Smith + +Release Date: February 22, 2010 [EBook #31362] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEANS AT ROWALLAN *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT=""I'm comin' home from a feeneral," Honeybird called out cheerfully." BORDER="2" WIDTH="415" HEIGHT="586"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 415px"> +"I'm comin' home from a feeneral," Honeybird called out cheerfully. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE WEANS AT ROWALLAN +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +KATHLEEN FITZPATRICK +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. GUY SMITH +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +METHUEN & CO. +<BR> +36 ESSEX STREET W.C. +<BR> +LONDON +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +<I>First Published in 1905</I> +<BR> +<I>Second Edition 1905</I> +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">WHY MRS M'REA RETURNED TO THE FAITH OF HER FATHERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">UNDER THE SHADOW OF THE MOUNTAINS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">JANE'S CONVERSION</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">A DAY OF GROWTH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">THE CHILD SAMUEL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">THE BEST FINDER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">A STOCKING FULL OF GOLD</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">THE BANTAM HEN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">THE DORCAS SOCIETY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">THE CRUEL HARM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">A CHIEF MOURNER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">A SAFEGUARD FOR HAPPINESS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">JIMMIE BURKE'S WEDDING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">JANE AT MISS COURTNEY'S SCHOOL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">AN ENGLISH AUNT</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS +</H2> + +<H4> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +"I'M COMIN' HOME FROM A FEENERAL," HONEYBIRD CALLED OUT<BR> + CHEERFULLY . . . . . . . . . . . . <I>Frontispiece</I> +</A> +</H4> + +<H4> +<A HREF="#img-085"> +WHEN FLY LOOKED IN UNDER THE WHIN THERE WAS HONEYBIRD FAST ASLEEP +</A> +</H4> + +<H4> +<A HREF="#img-133"> +"MICHAEL DARRAGH! IS THAT WHO YE ARE? MOTHER A' GOD! AN' YER<BR> + FATHER'S GUN IN HIS HAN'" +</A> +</H4> + +<H4> +<A HREF="#img-233"> +"WHIST, SAMMY; BE QUIET, MAN, TILL SHE COMES," SAID MICK +</A> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +THE WEANS AT ROWALLAN +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WHY MRS M'REA RETURNED TO THE FAITH OF HER FATHERS +</H4> + +<P> +One soaking wet day in September Patsy was sitting by the kitchen fire +eating bread and sugar for want of better amusement when he was cheered +by the sight of a tall figure in a green plaid shawl hurrying past the +window in the driving rain. He got up from his creepie stool to go for +the other children, who were playing in the schoolroom, when Lull, +sprinkling clothes at the table, exclaimed: +</P> + +<P> +"Bad luck to it, here's that ould runner again." +</P> + +<P> +Patsy quietly moved his stool back into the shadow of the chimney +corner. In that mood Lull, if she saw him, would chase him from the +kitchen when the news began; and clearly Teressa was bringing news +worth hearing. As far back as Patsy or any of the children could +remember, Teressa had brought the village gossip to Rowallan. Neither +rain nor storm could keep the old woman back when there was news to +tell. One thing only—a dog in her path—had power to turn her aside. +The quietest dog sent her running like a hare, and the most obviously +imitated bark made her cry. +</P> + +<P> +She came in, shaking the rain from her shawl. +</P> + +<P> +"Woman, dear, but that's the saft day. I'm dreepin' to the marrow +bone." +</P> + +<P> +"What an' iver brought ye out?" said Lull shortly. +</P> + +<P> +Teressa sank into a chair, and wiped her wet face with the corner of +her apron. "'Deed, ye may weel ast me. My grandson was for stoppin' +me, but says I to myself, says I, the mistress be to hear this before +night." +</P> + +<P> +"She'll hear no word of it, then," said Lull. "She's sleepin' sound, +an' I'd cut aff my han' afore I'd wake her for any ould clash." +</P> + +<P> +Teressa paid no heed. "Such carryin's-on, Lull, I niver seen. Mrs +M'Rea, the woman, she bates Banagher. She's drunk as much whiskey +these two days as would destroy a rigiment, an' now she has the whole +village up with her talk." +</P> + +<P> +"Andy was tellin' me she was at it again," said Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"Och, I wisht ye'd see her," said Teressa. "She was neither to bind +nor to stay. An' the tongue of her. Callin' us a lock a' papishes an' +fenians! Sure, she was sittin' on Father Ryan's dour-step till past +twelve o'clock wavin' an or'nge scarf, an' singin' 'Clitter Clatter, +Holy Watter.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Dear help us," said Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, I'm sayin' it," said Teressa. "An when his riverence come out +to her it was nothin' but a hape of abuse, an' to hell wid the Pope, +that she give him." +</P> + +<P> +"That's forty shillin's an' costs if the polis heard her," said Patsy, +forgetting he was in hiding. +</P> + +<P> +Teressa jumped. "Lord love ye, did ye iver hear the like a' that?" she +said. "It's a wee ould man the chile is." +</P> + +<P> +"Be off wid ye, Patsy," said Lull; "what call has the likes a' yous to +know that?" But Patsy wanted to hear more. +</P> + +<P> +"What did Father Ryan say to her, Teressa?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Troth, he tould her she'd be in hell herself before the Pope for all +her cursin'," said Teressa. +</P> + +<P> +"An' will she?" said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +"As sure as an egg's mate," said Teressa. "If she doesn't give over +drinkin' the ould gentleman's comin' for her one of these fine nights +to take her aff wid him." +</P> + +<P> +"Does she know when he's comin'?" Patsy asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Not her, the black-mouthed Protestant divil," said Teressa. +</P> + +<P> +"Whist!" said Lull, "that's no talk before the chile." +</P> + +<P> +"And a fine child he is," said Teressa, "an' a fine man he'll be makin' +one a' these days." +</P> + +<P> +But Patsy had heard enough, and was off to tell the others. They were +playing in the schoolroom when he brought the news. Mrs M'Rea was +drunk again, and had cursed the Pope on Father Ryan's doorstep, and the +devil was coming to take her away if she did not stop drinking. It was +bitter news, for Mrs M'Rea kept the one sweetie shop in the village. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go an' see her," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"What good'll that do?" said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell her the divil's comin'," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"She won't heed ye," said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"I know," said Fly, who had said nothing so far but had been thinking +seriously; "let's send her a message from the divil to tell her to give +over or he'll come for her." +</P> + +<P> +This plan commended itself to the others as a brilliant solution of a +difficulty. Mrs M'Rea had been known to see devils and rats before +when she was drunk—they had only been dancing devils, and had come to +no good purpose that the children knew of—she would, therefore, be +quite prepared for another visit, and a devil with a warning would have +to be taken seriously. It was well worth trying, for Mrs M'Rea, in +spite of her drunken habits and the fact that she was a turncoat—had +been born a Roman Catholic, and had married into the other camp—was a +great favourite with the children. She often gave them sweets when +they had not a farthing between them to pay. +</P> + +<P> +As the idea was hers Fly was to go with the message. Mick raked down a +handful of soot from the chimney, and rubbed her face and hands till +they were black, then dressed her in a pair of old bathing-drawers and +a black fur cape. Patsy got the pitchfork from the stable for her to +carry in her hand. +</P> + +<P> +Fly started off for the village. The others waited patiently for her +to come back. She was gone nearly two hours, and came back wet to the +skin, and frightened at the success of her mission. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on; tell us right from the start," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, when I got outside the gate who should I meet but Teressa goin' +home, so I just dodged down behind her, an' barked—an' she tuk to her +heels, an' run the whole way. An' when we come to the village I hid +behind a tree, an' then I dodged round to Mrs M'Rea's. The door was +shut, so I knocked with the pitchfork. Sez she: 'Who's there?' Sez I: +'Come out a' that, Mrs M'Rea.' Sez she: 'What would I be doin' that +for?' 'Because,' sez I, 'it's the divil himself come to see ye, Mrs +M'Rea.'" +</P> + +<P> +"But ye wern't to be the divil," Jane interrupted. "Ye were only one +of his wee divils." +</P> + +<P> +"I clean forgot," said Fly; "'deed, indeed, I clean forgot. An' oh, +Jane, I wisht ye'd seen her. She opened the dour, and when she seen me +she give a yell, an' went down on her knees, an' began prayin' like +mad. I danced round, an' poked her with the pitchfork, an', sez I: +'I'll larn ye to curse the Pope, Mrs M'Rea, ye black-mouthed ould +Protestant,'—that's what Teressa said, wasn't it, Patsy? 'Look here, +my girl,' sez I, 'I'm comin' for ye at twelve the night, so see an' be +ready.' An' with that she give another big yell, an' run in an' shut +the dour, an' I could hear her cryin'. An' oh, Jane, Jane, I've scared +the very sowl out of her." And Fly began to cry too. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye've just spoilt it all, Fly," said Jane. "The divil wasn't to be +goin' to come for her on'y if she wouldn't give over drinkin'." +</P> + +<P> +Fly shivered, and sobbed. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ye jackass; an' how can we take her away at twelve?" said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"An' if we don't she won't believe it was the divil," said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +But Fly only shivered, and sobbed the more. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," said Jane, "she'll be sick if we don't dry her." So they +all went upstairs, and Fly was washed, and dressed in her own clothes, +and sent down to sit by the kitchen fire, having first sworn to cut her +throat if she let out one word to Lull. Then the four went back to the +schoolroom to think the matter over. +</P> + +<P> +"We can't have Mrs M'Rea goin' round sayin' the divil tould her a lie," +said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"An' we can't have her sittin' there all night scared to death," said +Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to send her another message," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Another divil?" said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Jane; "it must be some person from heaven this time to tell +her that if she'll quit drinkin' the divil won't be let come!" +</P> + +<P> +They agreed that this was the only plan; but who was it to be? "I'll +be the Blessed Virgin," said Jane; "there's mother's blue muslin dress +in the nursery cupboard, an' I can have the wax flowers out of the +glass shade in my hair." +</P> + +<P> +"But Mrs M'Rea's a Protestant," Mick objected, "an' what would she care +for the Blessed Virgin?" +</P> + +<P> +"Let's send a ghost of Mister M'Rea," said Patsy. But here again there +was a difficulty, for Mr M'Rea could only have come from purgatory—and +who would have let him out? +</P> + +<P> +"Is there niver a Protestant saint?" said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a one but King William," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"An' he's the very ould boy," Mick shouted, and upstairs they ran to +search for suitable clothes. Jane begged to be King William; but by +the time she was dressed it was dark, and she was afraid to go alone, +so Mick and Patsy went with her. +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird was sent downstairs to the kitchen to wait with Fly till they +came back, and if Lull asked where they were she was not to tell. When +they dropped out of the dressing-room window into the garden the rain +was over. The wind now chased the clouds in wild shapes across the +sky, now piled them up to hide the moon. The children crept along the +road, terrified that they might meet Sandy M'Glander, the ghost with +the wooden leg, or see Raw Head and Bloody Bones ride by on his black +horse. When they reached Mrs M'Rea's cottage all was in darkness, but +they could hear through the door the crying that had frightened Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"Hide quick yous two," said Jane; "I'm goin' to knock." +</P> + +<P> +There was a yell of terror from inside. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right, Mrs M'Rea," said Jane; "come out, I want to speak to +ye." +</P> + +<P> +"Who are ye?" said Mrs M'Rea. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, I'm King William, of Glorious, Pious, an' Immortal memory, come +to save ye from the divil." +</P> + +<P> +They heard Mrs M'Rea fumbling with the latch, and then the door opened. +Jane stood up straight, and, as luck would have it, the clouds parted, +and the moon shone bright on King William in an old hunting-coat +stuffed out with pillows, a pair of white-frilled knickerbockers, and a +top hat with a peacock's feather in it. +</P> + +<P> +"God help us," said Mrs M'Rea, "but the quare things do happen." +</P> + +<P> +"Ay; an' quarer things will happen if yer don't give over drinkin', Mrs +M'Rea," said King William. "Fine goin's-on these are when dacent +people can't rest in heaven for the likes a' you and yer vagaries." +</P> + +<P> +"It's Himself," said Mrs M'Rea, and got down on her knees. +</P> + +<P> +"If it hadn't been for me meeting the divil this evenin' ye'd have been +in hell by this time; but sez I to him, sez I: 'Give her another +chance,' sez I." +</P> + +<P> +"God save us," sobbed Mrs M'Rea. +</P> + +<P> +"An' sez he: 'No.' Do ye hear what I'm sayin', Mrs M'Rea? Sez he: +'No; the black-mouthed Protestant, she cursed the Pope, and waved an +or'nge scarf, on Father's Ryan's dourstep,' sez he." +</P> + +<P> +"Whist!" said a warning voice round the corner, "King William's a +Protestant." +</P> + +<P> +"What do I care about Protestants?" shouted King William, getting +excited. "If I didn't know ye for a dacent woman I'd 'a' let the divil +have ye; but sez I to myself, sez I: 'Where would the childer be +without their wee sweetie shop?'" +</P> + +<P> +Jane was losing her head. The whispers round the corner began again. +King William took no notice, but went on: "An' he'll let you off this +wanst, Mrs M'Rea; but ye'll go down first thing in the mornin', an' +take the pledge with Father Ryan." +</P> + +<P> +"Did yer honour say Father Ryan?" gasped Mrs "M'Rea. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, I did; an' who else would I be sayin'?" said King William. +</P> + +<P> +"But I'm a Protestant, yer honour," said Mrs M'Rea. +</P> + +<P> +"So ye are; an' I'm tellin' ye, Mrs M'Rea, ye'll be sorry for it. +Sure, there's niver a Protestant in heaven but myself, an' me got in by +the skin a' my teeth. There's nothin' but rows an' rows a' Popes +there. Sure, there's many the time I be sorry for ye when I hear ye +down here shoutin' 'Clitter clatter' an' wearin' or'nge scarfs when I +know where ye're goin' through it." +</P> + +<P> +"Och-a-nee, an' me knew no better," said Mrs M'Rea. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye did know better wanst, an' ye know better again now. Go down to +Father Ryan, an' take the pledge; an' let me hear no more about it, or +it'll not be tellin' ye, for divil a fut I'll stir out of heaven again +for you or anybuddy else." Mrs M'Rea was rocking to and fro on her +knees. The clouds once more hid the moon, and in the darkness Mick and +Patsy seized King William, and hurried her away. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye very near spoilt it all," said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"But I didn't," said Jane. "Let's hide, an' see what she'll do." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs M'Rea only got up from her knees, and went into the cottage, and +shut the door. It was late when they got home. Jane crept upstairs, +and changed her clothes before she went into the kitchen for supper. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning Teressa came with the strange news that Mrs M'Rea had been +converted, and had been to Father Ryan to take the pledge. "Small +wonder, for the divil himself come to see her," said Teressa. "An' +sure, I seen him myself wid me own two eyes. As I was goin' home last +night who should come after me but a black baste wid the ugliest face +on him ye iver seen. An' it wasn't long after that the neighbours +heard her yellin' 'Murder!' She sez herself that he come to her as +bould as brass, like a wee ould black man, an' poked holes in her wid a +fiery fork, an' by strake a' dawn she was down at Father Ryan's tellin' +him she was converted. An' not a drop of drink on her. An' the whole +parish is callogueing wid her now. But she houlds to it that King +William's a great saint in glory." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +UNDER THE SHADOW OF THE MOUNTAINS +</H4> + +<P> +Rowallan was an old, rambling house that stood in a wilderness of weeds +and trees under the shadow of the Mourne Mountains. It was a house +with a strange name; people said it was never free from sorrow. Others +went so far as to say there was a curse on the place, and many went +miles out of their way rather than pass the big gates after dark, and +crossed themselves when they passed them in broad daylight. There was +not a man or woman in the countryside who could not have given you the +reason for this feeling about Rowallan. Anyone could have told you +that the master had been murdered not five years ago at his own gates. +Most of them could have told how his father before him had died on the +same spot—died cursing a son and daughter who had turned to be Roman +Catholics. And in some of the cottages there still lived a man or a +woman old enough to remember the master before that: a bad man, for he +had believed in neither God nor devil, and had broken his neck, riding +home one night full of drink, at the gates. God save us! was it any +wonder people were afraid to pass them? The present, too, had its own +share of sorrow. The children, they would tell you, lived almost +alone; there was no one to take care of them but two old servants, both +over sixty, for the mistress, though still alive, was a broken-hearted +woman, who had never left her room since her husband's death. This +they might have told a stranger, but no one would have dreamt of +telling the children these tales about their home. They, though they +had friends in every cottage, had never heard one word of either +haunting sorrow or curse. It is true that sometimes, coming home in +the evening from a long day's expedition across the mountains, they +felt a strange sense of depression when they came to the big iron +gates. For no reason, it seemed, a foreboding of calamity chilled +their spirits, and sent them, at a run, up the avenue into the house to +the warm shelter of the kitchen, to be assured by Lull's cheerful +presence that their mother had not died in their absence, and life was +still happy. +</P> + +<P> +There were five of them: Mick, Jane, Fly, Patsy, and Honeybird. The +tales people told of their home were not the strangest part of their +history. Their father had been a man hated by his own class for his +broad and generous views at a time when the whole country was +disturbed, and loved by his poorer neighbours for the same reason. He +had been murdered by a terrible mistake. It was not the master, +Michael Darragh, but his Roman Catholic brother Niel, the murderer had +meant to kill. Niel Darragh, when he and his sister had been driven +out of their father's house for their religious views, had taken a farm +about a mile from Rowallan, and it was over his title to this farm the +quarrel had arisen that had ended in the master being murdered, +mistaken in the dark for his brother. The children's mother was an +Englishwoman, who came of an old Puritan stock, and had married against +the wishes of her family. Her husband's death was God's judgment for +her wickedness, she thought. She had never recovered from the shock of +the murder, and was only able to move with Lull's help from her bed to +a couch by the window, and she was so entirely occupied with her own +troubles that she often forgot the children existed. So it came that +they were being brought up by Lull, their father's old nurse, and Andy +Graham, the coachman. Lull had so much else to do, with all the work +of the house, and an invalid mistress to wait on, that the children +were left to come and go as they pleased. Twice a week they went to +old Mr Rannigan, the rector, for lessons, but on other days they roamed +for miles over the country, making friends at every cottage they +passed. When they came home in the evening Lull was always waiting +with supper by the kitchen fire, ready to hear their adventures, to +sympathise or reprove as she saw fit. So long as they were well fed +and clothed, and did nothing Quality would be ashamed of, she said she +was content. Days spent on the mountains, fishing in some brown +stream, helping an old peasant to herd his cow, or watching a woman +spin by her door, taught the children more than they learnt from Mr +Rannigan. They brought back to Lull stories of ghosts, Orange and +Papist, who fought by night on the bridge that had once been slippery +with their blood; of the devil's strange doings in the mountains: how +he had bitten a piece out of one—the marks of his teeth showed to this +day; or milder tales of fairy people—leprachauns, and the fiddlers +whose music only the good could hear. Lull believed them all, crossed +herself at the mention of ghosts and devil—her own mother had seen +fairies dancing on the rocks one day as she was coming home from +school. Lull herself, though she had never seen anything, had heard +the banshee wailing round the house the night the master's mother died. +The children were sure Lull could have heard the fairy fiddlers if she +would have come with them to the right place up the mountains; she was +good enough to hear it—they knew that. +</P> + +<P> +Lull was a good old woman. The children were right; she was never +cross, but always loving and kind, always ready to help them whatever +they might want. Any spare minute she had was spent at her beads, and +often while she worked they could tell by her lips she was saying her +prayers. Blessed saints and holy angels filled her world, and her +tales, if they were not of the days when she first came to Rowallan, +were about these wonderful beings. They were far better than fairies, +she said; for the best of fairies were mischievous at times, but the +saints could be depended on. But the children thought her tales about +their home were even more interesting than tales of the saints. +</P> + +<P> +There was a time, she said, when the dilapidated old house and garden +had been the finest in Ireland. When she came to Rowallan, a slip of a +girl, more than forty years ago, there had been no less than seven +gardeners about the place. Ould Davy, who worked in the kitchen garden +now, was all that was left of them. Now the house was falling to +pieces, great patches of damp discoloured the walls, and most of the +rooms were shut up; but Lull had seen the day when all was light and +colour, when the rooms were filled with guests, and the children, who +slept in the nursery then, had heard the rustle of silk dresses, not +the scamper of rats, on the stairs at night. The children could see, +when they opened the shutters in the disused drawing-room, how +beautiful everything had been then, though the yellow damask, the satin +chairs, and the big sconces on the wall were faded, moth-eaten, and +dusty now. And in the garden, where Lull's thoughts loved to dwell on +the flowers she had seen—lupins, phlox, roses, pinks, bachelor's +buttons, and more whose names she had forgotten, that had fought others +for leave to grow, she said—a strange flower would now and again push +its way up through weeds and grass to witness that her tales were true. +Lull always ended her talks as she rose to take the children off to +bed, with a promise that all would come back again, that one fine day +their ship would come in. +</P> + +<P> +Andy Graham, in the stable, said the same thing. On Sunday mornings, +when they watched him getting ready to take them to church, he would +say, as he put on the old top hat and faded blue coat that were his +livery: "Troth, the day'll come when I'll not be wispin' hay round me +head to keep on a hat that was made for a man twiced me size, an' it's +more than an ould coat that has only one tail to it I'll be wearin'. +I'll be the smartest lad in Ireland, with livery to me legs forby, when +yer fortune comes back to yez all again." +</P> + +<P> +This hopeful view of the future, a romantic fiction half believed by +Lull and Andy themselves, was taken quite seriously by the children. +They imagined their home was under some kind of enchantment that would +one day be broken. It was true Lull had told them the present state of +Rowallan was God's will, and Andy said God alone knew when their +fortune would come back; but the children, whose mind held fairies, +saints, banshees, and angels, and their mother's Puritan God, had no +difficulty in reconciling God's will and an enchantment. One thing had +helped to confirm this belief. Mick and Jane remembered the night +their father died—it was the night Honeybird was born—and, thinking +back over it now, they were sure they had heard the incantation that +had wrought the spell. They had been waked by a noise, a muttering, +and a tramp of feet on the gravel beneath the nursery window. They had +been frightened, for Lull was not in the nursery, and when they ran out +into the passage to call her they saw their mother standing in a white +dress at the top of the stairs and a crowd of strange faces in the hall +below. That was all they had seen, for someone had pushed them back +into the nursery, and locked them in, but they had heard shrieks and +horrible laughter through the night. No one knew when the spell would +be broken, but when the one fine day did come the children believed +that in some mysterious way the house would shake off its air of ruin +and decay; the six gardeners would come back to join ould Davy, who, +though he was so cross, had been faithful all these years; the horses +and carriages and dogs that Andy remembered would return; their mother +would come downstairs; and, perhaps, their father would come to life +again, if he were really dead, and had not been whipped away to some +remote island, they thought it was quite possible, till the time when +the enchantment would cease. +</P> + +<P> +Their chief reason for looking with joy to this day was that then their +mother would be quite well, and their anxiety about her would be over. +Twice a day they went to her room—to bid her good-morning and +good-night. Then she read them a chapter from the Bible, and made them +promise to say their prayers. From her they got their ideas of God's +terrible judgments, and of the Last Day, when the heavens would roll +back like a scroll, and they would be caught up in the clouds. Jane +was afraid it might happen when she was bathing some day, and she would +be caught up in her bare skin. She always put her boots and stockings +under her pillow when she went to bed, in case it came like a thief in +the night. Occasionally Mrs Darragh was well enough to forget her own +trouble, and then she would keep the children with her, and tell them +stories of the time when she was a child. These were the children's +happiest days. They would sit on the floor round her sofa, listening, +fascinated by her description of a life so unlike their own. Their +mother, like a child in a book, had never gone outside the garden gates +without her nurse, and they laughed at the difference between their +life and hers. She never went fishing, and brought home enough fish to +feed her family for three days; she never tramped for miles over +mountains or spent whole days catching glasen off the rocks. The +country she had lived in had been different, too—a red-roofed village, +where every cottage had a garden neat and trim, and all the children +had rosy cheeks and tidy yellow hair. But on their mother's bad days, +when she remembered another past, they would creep to her door, and +listen with troubled faces to her wild talk of sins and punishment, and +hear her praying for forgiveness and death. Their love for their +mother was a passionate devotion, and through it came the only real +trouble they knew—they were afraid that God would answer her prayer, +and take her from them. So her bad days came to mean days of black +misery for them, when they spent their time beseeching God not to take +her prayers seriously: it was only because she was ill that she thought +she wanted to die, and would have changed her mind by the morning. If +after one of these bad days a stormy night followed, misery changed to +terror. On such a night the Banshee had wailed for their grandmother, +and if they heard her now it would be for a sign that their mother must +die too. +</P> + +<P> +Lull would do her best to comfort them. "Banshee daren't set fut in +the garden, or raise wan skirl of a cry, after all the prayers yez have +been sayin'," she would tell them. But when she left them it was only +to go to the kitchen fire and pray against the same fear herself. But, +apart from this shadow, that often lifted for weeks at a time, their +life was very happy. Mick, the eldest, was twelve years old, and +Honeybird was five; the others, Jane, Fly, and Patsy, came between. +The two eldest, Mick and Jane, led the others, though Fly and Patsy +criticised their leaders' opinions when they saw fit; Honeybird was +content to blindly obey. After one of their good days they would go to +bed in the big nursery, sure that no children in the world were so +content. When there was no frightening wind in the trees they could +hear through the open window the sea across the fields. "It's a quare, +good world," Jane would mutter sleepily; and Fly would reply: "The +sea's the nicest ould thing in it; you'd think it was hooshin' us to +sleep"; and then Patsy's voice would come from the dressing-room: +"Mebby it's bringin' our ship in to us." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +JANE'S CONVERSION +</H4> + +<P> +On Sunday morning the children went to church by themselves. They +would rather have gone to Mass with Lull in the Convent Chapel, but +Lull said they were Protestants. Everybody else was a Roman +Catholic—Uncle Niel, Aunt Mary, Andy Graham, even ould Davy, though he +never went to Mass. +</P> + +<P> +None of the children liked going to church; they went to please Lull. +The service was long and dull, and though each one of them had a +private plan to while away the time they found it very tedious. +</P> + +<P> +Jane was the luckiest, for under the carpet in the corner where she +sat—Jane and Mick sat in the front pew—there was a fresh crop of +fungi every Sunday; all prayer-time she was occupied in scraping it off +with a pin. Honeybird came next; she had collected all the spare +hassocks into the second pew, and played house under the seat. So long +as they made no noise they felt they were behaving well, for old Mr +Rannigan, the rector, was nearly blind, and could not see what they +were doing. Sometimes Mick followed the service in the big +prayer-book, just for the fun of hearing Mr Rannigan making mistakes +when he lost his place or fell asleep, as he did one Sunday in the +middle of a prayer, and woke up with a start, and prayed for our +Sovereign Lord King William. +</P> + +<P> +Fly played that she was a princess, but she always stopped pretending +when the Litany came. Not that she understood the strange petitions, +but she felt when she had repeated them all that there was no calamity +left that had not been prayed against. +</P> + +<P> +The sermon was the most wearisome part for them all. When the text was +given out Jane read the Bible. Nebuchadnezzar was her favourite +character. She pictured the fun he must have had prancing round in the +grass playing he was a horse or a cow. Mick read the hymn-book, Fly +fell in love with the prince whom she saved up for the sermon, while +Patsy and Honeybird built a ship of hassocks, and sailed as pirates to +unknown seas. +</P> + +<P> +One Sunday morning they had just settled themselves in their +seats—Jane had discovered what looked like a mushroom under the +carpet, and was waiting for the general confession that she might see +if it would peel—when the vestry door opened, and, instead of the +familiar little figure in a surplice trailing on the ground, that had +tottered in as long as the children could remember, a strange clergyman +came in. He began the service in a loud voice that startled them, and +read the prayers so quickly that the people were on their feet again +before Jane had half peeled the mushroom. +</P> + +<P> +When he came to the Psalms he glared at the children till Jane thought +he was going to scold her for not reading too. She had not listened to +hear what morning of the month it was, but she got so frightened that +she had to pretend to be reading by opening and shutting her mouth. +But it was worse when he came to the sermon. Jane, who had not dared +to go back once to the mushroom, but had followed his movements all +through the service, saw with horror when he went into the pulpit that +Patsy and Honeybird had forgotten that he was not Mr Rannigan, and were +stowing away all the books they could reach in the hold of their pirate +ship. She reached over the back of the pew to poke Honeybird, but at +that moment a loud voice startled her. +</P> + +<P> +"Except ye be converted ye shall all likewise perish," the clergyman +said. Then, fixing his eyes on a thin woman, who sat near the pulpit, +he repeated the text in a louder tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know what that means?" he said, pointing to Miss Green. "It +means that you will go to hell." +</P> + +<P> +"What has she done?" Jane wondered. But the preacher had turned round, +and was pointing to old Mr Byers. "You will go to hell," he said. +Then he looked round the church. Jane saw that Patsy and Honeybird +were sitting on their seats watching him. +</P> + +<P> +"You will go to hell," he said again. This time he picked out Mrs +Maxwell. Jane waited, expecting he would tell them some awful sins +these three had committed. But after a long pause he said: "Everyone +seated before me this morning will go to hell." +</P> + +<P> +A chill seemed to have fallen on the congregation. Patsy said +afterwards he thought the devil was waiting outside with a long car to +drive them off at once. "Except ye be converted," the preacher added. +</P> + +<P> +He went on to describe what hell was like, and told them a story of a +godless death-bed he had stood beside, where he had heard the sinner's +groans of remorse—useless then, for God had said he must perish. +Jane's eyes never for a moment wandered from the man's face. Even when +he turned to her she still looked at him, though she was cold with +fear. "The young too will perish except they be converted," he said. +</P> + +<P> +At last the sermon came to an end. The children went out to the porch +to wait for the car. But the sermon had been so long that Andy Graham +was waiting for them. The others ran down the path, but Jane turned +back, and went into the church. All the people had gone. The strange +clergyman was just coming through the vestry door. Jane went up to +him. "I want to get converted," she said; "quick, for Andy Graham's +waitin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Pray to God, and He will give you an assurance that your sins are +forgiven," the clergyman said. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, Jane," Patsy shouted at the porch door. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank ye," said Jane, and went out to the car. +</P> + +<P> +On Sunday afternoon they generally weeded Patsy's garden or played with +the rabbits, but this day Jane went up to the nursery the minute dinner +was over. Fly, who was sent up by Mick to tell her to come out, found +the door locked. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's there?" said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"It's me; Mick wants ye," said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't come." +</P> + +<P> +"What're ye doin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mind yer own business," was the reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me in; I want a hanky," said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +There was no answer, but as Fly went on trying to turn the handle and +banging at the door it suddenly opened, and Jane faced her. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't ye go away ar that an' quit botherin' me?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"What're ye doin'?" said Fly, trying to look round the door, but Jane +slammed it in her face. +</P> + +<P> +"If ye don't go away I'll give ye the right good thumpin'," she said. +Fly went downstairs. +</P> + +<P> +At tea Jane appeared with a grave face. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll play church after tea," she said, "an' I'll be the preacher." +</P> + +<P> +They arranged the chairs for pews. Patsy rang the dinner bell. Fly +was the organist, and played on the table. Jane leant over the back of +an arm-chair to preach. +</P> + +<P> +"Mind ye," she said, "I'm not making fun. I'm converted, an' ye've all +got to get converted too, or ye'll go to hell for iver and iver. An' +ye can't think about for iver an' iver, for it's for iver, an' then +it's for iver after that, till it hurts yer head to go on thinkin' any +more. We'll all have to quit bein' bad, an' niver fight any more an' +tell no lies an' niver think a cross word, an' if we say our prayers +God'll give us an insurance, an' then we'll be good for iver after." +</P> + +<P> +Then she read a chapter out of the Bible. But it was not a part the +others liked—about Daniel or Joseph or Moses and the plagues—it was a +chapter of Revelation. They listened patiently to that, but when Jane +said she was going to pray Patsy got up. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm tired," he said, "an' I don't want to get converted. I don't +believe that ould boy knowed what he was talkin' about. Andy Graham +said he was bletherin' when I told him about us all goin' to hell." +</P> + +<P> +Fly and Honeybird said they wanted to paint, so Jane came out of the +pulpit. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye'll just have to get converted by yer own selves," she said, "for +I'm not goin' to help ye any more." +</P> + +<P> +When they went to bed Jane read the Bible to herself, and was such a +long time saying her prayers that Fly thought she had gone to sleep, +and tried to wake her. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm niver goin' to be cross any more," she said as she got into bed. +</P> + +<P> +The next day was wet, so wet that Lull would not allow them to go out. +Jane began the morning by making clothes for Bloody Mary, Honeybird's +doll. But Honeybird would have the clothes made as she liked. Though +Jane tried to persuade her that Bloody Mary had worn a ruff and not a +bustle Honeybird insisted on the bustle, and would not have the ruff. +At last Jane said she would make the clothes her own way or not at all. +</P> + +<P> +"Then ye needn't make them at all," said Honeybird, picking up Bloody +Mary, and going out of the room. +</P> + +<P> +When she got to the door she added, over her shoulder: +"Girney-go-grabby, the cat's cousin," and ran. +</P> + +<P> +But Jane was at her heels, and caught her at the foot of the stairs. +She pulled Bloody Mary from under Honeybird's arm. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll make a ruff, an' sew it on tight," she said grimly. +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird began to cry. Jane was just going to give her back the doll +when Fly appeared at the top of the stairs, and looked over the +banisters. +</P> + +<P> +"Let her alone," said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought ye were converted," said Fly. In a minute Jane was at the +top of the stairs, and slaps and howls told that Fly's remark was +answered. +</P> + +<P> +There was nothing Fly hated so much as being slapped. If they had +fought properly, and she had been beaten, she would not have minded so +much, but when Jane slapped her she felt she was degraded. +</P> + +<P> +Having punished her Jane walked slowly downstairs. When she got to the +last step she looked up. Fly spat over the banister. +</P> + +<P> +"Cat!" Jane yelled running up the stairs again two at a time; but Fly +raced down the passage, and was just in time to shut and lock the +nursery door in Jane's face. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, me girl," Jane shouted through the keyhole. "You wait an' +see what ye'll get when ye come out." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not coming out," said Fly, "I'm goin' to see what ye've got in yer +drawer." +</P> + +<P> +Jane went down to the schoolroom. No one was there. Honeybird had +gone to play in the kitchen. She sat down, with her elbows on the +table, her head in her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"It wasn't my fault," she muttered—"I didn't want to fight—but I'll +kill her now when I catch her. I don't care. God had no business to +let her spit at me, an' I will just kill her." +</P> + +<P> +Soon she heard Fly coming downstairs, and got under the table to wait +for her. Fly pushed the door open, looked in, then came in, and shut +the door behind her. She went up to the bookcase, and was looking for +a book when, with a yell of fury, Jane pounced on her. Jane thumped on +Fly's back and Fly tore Jane's hair. They rolled over on the ground, +biting and thumping, till Jane was on the top. She held Fly down, and +very deliberately slapped her, counting the slaps out loud, six times +on each hand. "That's for spittin'," she said as she got up. +</P> + +<P> +Fly sobbed on the floor. Lull came in to lay the table for dinner. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, ye ought to be ashamed a' yerselves," she said, "fightin' like +Kilkenny cats. What would yer mother say if she heard ye?" +</P> + +<P> +Jane banged out of the schoolroom, and out of the house. She went +across the yard to the stables, climbed up into the loft, and threw +herself down on a bundle of hay. +</P> + +<P> +Lull called her to come in to dinner, but she did not move. Mick and +Patsy came out to look for her. After a few minutes she heard them go +back into the house. When all was quiet again she sat up. "I'll go to +hell," she said—"an' I don't care a bit. I wisht I was dead." She +had thought only yesterday, when she was converted, and had been all +warm and happy inside, that God would never let her fight any more. +But God had failed her. He had allowed her to fight the very next day. +</P> + +<P> +"He might 'a' made me good when I ast Him," she muttered. "I hate +fightin'; but I can't help it, an' now I'll niver be good." +</P> + +<P> +By-and-by she heard Honeybird at the kitchen door. "Janie, come in," +she was calling, "there's awful nice pancakes for pudden." Jane didn't +want the pancakes; she wanted very much to go in, and be happy, but +something held her. "Come on in, Jane," Honeybird called. "Fly's +awful sorry she spit at ye." Honeybird called once more, then Jane +heard the kitchen door shut. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the divil," she muttered; "he won't let me be good." In a burst +of despair she beat her head against the wall till she fell back +exhausted on the hay. +</P> + +<P> +The next thing she heard—she must have been asleep—was the tea bell +ringing. Still she did not go in, but when the loft began to get dark +she was so frightened that she crept down the ladder, and went into the +kitchen. There was no one in the kitchen but Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"Och, now ye'll be sick if ye cry like that," said Lull. "Sit down +here by the fire, an' have a drop milk an' a bit a' soda bread." +</P> + +<P> +But Jane could not eat. She managed to swallow the milk, then as Lull +stroked her rough hair she began to cry again. +</P> + +<P> +"Whisht, whisht, chile dear," Lull said; "sure, ye can't help fightin' +now an' then. Come on upstairs, an' have a nice hot bath, an' go to +yer bed, an' ye'll be as good as Saint Patrick in the mornin'." +</P> + +<P> +When the others came to bed she was asleep, but she woke before they +were undressed. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry I was cross," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"So am I," said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye were just as cross as I was yerself," Jane said sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I mane," said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"Then ye should say what ye mane," said Jane. "Ye just want to make me +fight again." +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, I don't," Fly began. +</P> + +<P> +But Jane threw back the clothes, and jumped out of bed. "There!" she +said, "ye've done it. Ye've made me cross again." +</P> + +<P> +Fly and Honeybird both began to cry. They got undressed, crying all +the time. When they were ready for bed Fly said: "Aren't ye goin' to +get into bed, Jane?" +</P> + +<P> +"No!" said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"But ye'll catch yer death a' cold," said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"I just wisht I could," said Jane. She sat down on the floor by the +window. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll just sit here till I die," she said, "an' then I'll go to hell." +</P> + +<P> +Fly and Honeybird began to howl. The boys came in from the +dressing-room. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter?" said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm goin' to hell," said Jane; "I can't help it. I don't want to go, +but Fly makes me fight. She's sendin' me to hell, an' I'll just sit +here till I'm dead." +</P> + +<P> +Mick begged her to get back into bed. Fly and Honeybird sobbed and +shivered. "Don't go to hell, Jane," they pleaded; "get into bed, an' +we'll niver make ye cross any more." +</P> + +<P> +But Jane shook her head. "I'm goin'; I can't help it," she said. +</P> + +<P> +Patsy looked at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Let her go if she wants to," he said, "I'm goin' to sleep." He went +back into the dressing-room. Jane looked after him, and then began to +laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"I declare to my goodness I'm an ould divil myself," she said, "makin' +ye all miserable." She got up, and kissed them all. +</P> + +<P> +"An I'll make Bloody Mary a bustle in the mornin'," she said as she got +into bed. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'd rather have a ruff," said Honeybird. +</P> + +<P> +Next Sunday Mr Rannigan was at church. When he gave out his text Jane +looked at him. "Brethren, it is my duty to preach the simple gospel," +he began, and Jane opened the Bible at Nebuchadnezzar. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A DAY OF GROWTH +</H4> + +<P> +Fly sat on the wall in the wood at the back of the garden simmering +with excitement. Two wonderful things had happened to her, each of +which by itself would have been enough to make her happy for a week. +First, she had got a letter in the morning addressed to herself. She +was so pleased that she did not think of opening it till Jane took it +from her. The inside, however, was still more delightful. Somebody +called Janette Black said she had a little present for Fly, and was +bringing it to Rowallan that afternoon. Lull said Miss Black was Fly's +godmother. She used to live at Rose Cottage years ago, but for a long +time she had been away in Dublin. Fly was too much excited to eat her +breakfast. The others as they watched her dancing round the room could +not help being a little bit envious at her good fortune. They had +never heard of anybody before, except Cinderella, who had had a visit +from a godmother. Their godmothers were all dead, or away in England. +Fly in her happiness had a pang of regret that she could not share this +delightful relative with the others. She said she would share the +gift. She had thought that morning would never pass. Lull was getting +the drawing-room ready for the visitor, and once or twice she had +warned Fly that she might be disappointed. +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't marvel if she niver come near the place at all," she said. +"She's a bird-witted ould lady, an' niver in the wan way a' thinkin' +two minutes thegether." But Fly could not have been calm if she had +tried. She had spent her time going backwards and forwards to look at +the kitchen clock. Now the time had come, dinner was over, Fly had her +clean pinafore on, the godmother was, perhaps, already in the house, +but Fly was so busy thinking of something else that she had almost +forgotten her. The second wonderful thing had happened. There were +days, Fly told herself, when things took jumps—when, instead of +growing up at the usual pace, so slow you could not feel it, something +happened that made you older and richer and cleverer all in a minute. +To-day life had taken two jumps. As she was sitting there quietly on +the wall, thinking only of her godmother, a big yellow cat had come out +of the wood. Everybody at Rowallan hated cats—they were deadly +enemies, poachers, and destroyers. Andy had been in trouble for the +past week over the wickedness of a cat who, night after night, had been +at the rabbits in his traps. Rabbits were a source of income to +Rowallan, and it was a serious matter when six rabbits were destroyed +in one night. Fly had been in the kitchen that morning when Andy came +in to tell Lull his trouble. +</P> + +<P> +"I niver seen the cat that could get the better av me afore," he said +dejectedly. "I'm thinkin' I'm gettin' too ould for this game." Fly +remembered this as she watched the cat coming towards her through the +wood. If only Andy were there now with his gun. It was a terrible +pity that such a chance should be lost. She sat quite still, waiting +to see what the cat would do. It never seemed to notice her, but came +boldly on, with no sense of shame, straight towards her, till it was +beneath her feet. The wall was high, and the cat had jumped before Fly +realised that it meant to use her legs as a ladder to the top. +Indignation on Andy's account now gave place to wild rage at personal +injury. The cat's claws were in her leg. She kicked it off, then, +quick as thought, seized a big flat stone off the top of the wall, and +dropped it on the cat's neck. The yellow head bowed, and without a +sound the body rolled over on the grass. Fly saw that she had killed +it. Her heart jumped for joy. She could hardly believe she had really +done this wonderful thing. Andy's enemy lay dead at her feet, struck +down by her unerring aim. What would the others say? What would Andy +say? How they would all praise her! She felt that God had helped her. +It must be He who had brought the cat within her reach and given her +power to kill it with one blow of a stone. Honeybird's voice called +from the garden. Fly gave a little gasp—her heart was beating so +quickly with excitement. To find a godmother and to kill a cat in one +day!—had anybody else ever had such happiness? She got down from the +wall, and took the dead cat in her arms. She must go to the godmother +now, and wait till she had gone before she could tell the others. +There was nobody at home to tell except Honeybird, for Jane had gone +with Andy on the car to bring Mick and Patsy home from school. She +would hide the cat in the stables, she thought, and when the others +came home she would produce it dramatically, and see what they would +do. On the way through the garden she met Honeybird coming to find her. +</P> + +<P> +"She's come," said Honeybird, "in a wee donkey carriage an' a furry +cloak; but I'm feared she's got nuthin' with her, 'cause I walked all +round her to see." +</P> + +<P> +Fly held up the cat. "I've just kilt it with wan blow av a stone," she +said. +</P> + +<P> +"Well done you," said Honeybird joyfully. "Bad auld divil," addressing +the dead cat, "what for did ye eat the neck out a' Andy's rabbits?" +Then her tone changed. "Give him to me, Fly, to play feeneral with. +Sure, you've got a godmother, an' I've got nuthin' at all." Fly had +not the heart to refuse. She gave Honeybird the dead cat, but +explained that she must be allowed to dig it up again to show it to +Andy. Then she ran quickly towards the house. A smell of pancakes +came from the kitchen. Lull was getting tea ready for the visitor. +Fly felt that life was richer than she had ever known it to be. At the +drawing-room door she paused to mutter a little prayer of thanksgiving. +She hardly knew what she had been expecting, but she was a little bit +disappointed when she opened the door and went in. Her godmother was +sitting on a sofa. She was a little woman, dressed in dull black; an +old-fashioned fur-lined cloak fell from her shoulders; a lace veil, +turned over her bonnet, hung down like a curtain behind. She wore +gloves several sizes too big for her, and the ends of the fingers were +twisted into spikes. But her voice pleased Fly's ear. She had been to +see Mrs Darragh, she said, but had only stayed a minute. In spite of +her disappointment there was something about the little lady that +attracted Fly's fancy. Her eyes were just the colour of the sea on a +clear, sunny day. She talked a good deal, holding Fly's hand and +patting it all the time. Fly did not understand much of what she +said—she mentioned so many people Fly had never heard of before. +</P> + +<P> +"You know you are my only god-child," she said; "when I die you shall +have all my money if you are a good girl." Fly thought this was very +kind, but she begged her godmother not to think of dying for years yet. +The little lady smiled. Then she began to talk again about people Fly +did not know, nodding and smiling as though it were all very funny. +Fly wondered when she would come to the gift. +</P> + +<P> +"There now, I've talked enough," she said at last. "Tell me all about +yourself and the other dear children now." +</P> + +<P> +Fly told her everything she could remember. Miss Black said "Yes, +yes," "How delightful," "How pleasant," but she did not seem to be +listening; her eyes were looking all round the room, and once she said +"How pleasant" when Fly was telling her about the time Patsy hurt his +foot. Fly was in the middle of the tale of Andy's trouble that morning +when Miss Black interrupted her. +</P> + +<P> +"You must come and see me, my dear, and bring the others with you, and +you shall make the acquaintance of my darling Phoebus." +</P> + +<P> +Here was another person Fly had never heard of. She wondered who he +could be. +</P> + +<P> +"Naughty darling Phoebus," Miss Black went on. "Oh, he has been so +naughty since we left Dublin. Out for hours by himself, frightening me +into fits. But he doesn't care how anxious I am." +</P> + +<P> +He must be her son, Fly thought; rather a horrid little boy to frighten +his mother like that. She asked Miss Black if he were her only child. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Black laughed. "He is, indeed, my darling only one; you must come +and see him. You will be sure to love him. He is not very fond of +children, but I shall tell him he must love you and not scratch." +</P> + +<P> +Fly thought she would not love him at all, but she was too polite to +say so. She wished Miss Black would say something about her present. +But Miss Black went on talking about Phoebus. She called him her +golden boy, her heart's delight and only treasure. Fly was rather +bewildered by this talk. It seemed to her that Phoebus must be a very +nasty little boy: he ate nothing but kidney and fish, his mother said, +and never a bite of bread with it. +</P> + +<P> +Lull brought in tea, and when Miss Black had finished her tea she +became silent. Fly did not like to speak. She thought her godmother +must be thinking of something important. She waited a little while, +then, as Miss Black continued silent, she cautiously introduced the +subject of godmothers. It might, perhaps, remind the little lady of +what her letter had promised. She told Miss Black about the other +children's godmothers, and how lucky the others thought she was to have +a godmother alive and in Ireland. Miss Black patted her hand absently, +and gazed round the room. +</P> + +<P> +"I know there is something I wanted to remember," she said at last. +Fly waited eagerly. She knew what it was, though, of course, she could +not say so. "I have it," said Miss Black. "I wanted to ask for a +rabbit for Phoebus. He has no appetite, these days. This morning he +touched nothing but his saucerful of cream. Do you think you could get +me a rabbit, my dear? Phoebus adores rabbit." +</P> + +<P> +"To be sure I can get ye wan," said Fly, swallowing her disappointment. +"I'll get ye wan to-morra from Andy." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Black got up to go. "That is kind of you," she said; "and, now +that I remember, I had a little gift for you, but I forgot to bring it. +Come to-morrow, and you shall have it. And don't forget the rabbit for +Phoebus." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll hould ye I'll not forgit," said Fly. "We've been havin' bad luck +this wee while back with the rabbits. Some ould cat's been spoilin' +them on us. But just a minute before you came I kilt the ould baste." +Fly looked for applause, but her godmother's attention had wandered +again. +</P> + +<P> +"How very pleasant," she said. Then suddenly she looked at Fly. "What +did you say, dear child?" +</P> + +<P> +"I said I kilt an ould thief of a cat," said Fly proudly. +</P> + +<P> +The godmother grasped her by the arm. "Killed a——" Her voice was +almost a scream. "Merciful heavens! what do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +Fly was frightened. Her godmother seemed to have changed into another +person. She looked at Fly with burning eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Wicked, wicked, cruel child!" +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't help it," Fly stammered. "I done it by accident." Had she +all unconsciously done some awful thing? Surely everybody killed cats. +They were like rats—a plague to be exterminated. +</P> + +<P> +"What was it like?" demanded her godmother. +</P> + +<P> +"The nastiest-lukin' baste I iver set eyes on," said Fly earnestly. +</P> + +<P> +"If it had been Phoebus I think I should have killed you," said Miss +Black. +</P> + +<P> +Fly looked at her in a bewildered way. +</P> + +<P> +"You are quite sure it wasn't Phoebus—not my darling cat?" said her +godmother sternly. +</P> + +<P> +A horrid fear seized Fly. Phoebus was not a boy, he was a cat—surely, +surely not that yellow cat—such a thing would be too terrible. +</P> + +<P> +"Was it a large, dignified creature with yellow fur?" her godmother +questioned. +</P> + +<P> +"It was not," said Fly emphatically. "It was a wee, scraggy cat, black +all over, with a white spot on its tail." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank God for it," said Miss Black. "If it had been Phoebus I should +have died." +</P> + +<P> +Fly was shaking all over; she felt like a murderess. If only her +godmother knew the truth! It was, of course, hopeless to ask God to +make the cat alive again. The only thing was to get her godmother +safely away from Rowallan, and pray that she might never come back. +Anxiously she watched the lady go down the steps. The donkey carriage +was waiting. In another minute she would be gone; but, with her foot +on the step of the carriage, Miss Black paused. +</P> + +<P> +"I must see the garden; it was so pretty once, and I may never be back +again," she said. Fly led the way. The burden on her chest lifted a +little as she heard that her godmother would not be likely to come +again. It would not take long to see the garden, and then she would go +for ever. When they were half way down the path the garden gate +opened, and Honeybird came through, wheeling a barrow. She had Lull's +old crape bonnet on her head. Fly had a moment of sickening fright. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm comin' home from a feeneral," Honeybird called out cheerfully. +"I've just been buryin' my ould husband, an' now I'm a widdy woman." +</P> + +<P> +Fly breathed again: Phoebus was safely buried. +</P> + +<P> +"How very nice," said Miss Black. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye wouldn't say that if ye knowed who her husband was," Fly thought. +</P> + +<P> +"Would ye 'a' liked to be a mourner?" Honeybird asked, with a smile at +Miss Black. "'Cause if ye would I can dig him up, an' bury him again." +</P> + +<P> +Fly grimaced at her in an agony of terror. "Lull wants ye this very +minute," she said hurriedly. Honeybird nodded to them, and took her +barrow again, and went on round the house. +</P> + +<P> +By this time the sun had set, and the garden was full of that strange, +luminous twilight that comes with frost in the air. +</P> + +<P> +A cluster of late roses in Patsy's garden glowed against the fuchsia +hedge; a white flower stood out in almost startling distinctness. +Above the pear-tree the sky was clear, cold green; a flush of red +mounted from the south-west. The garden, shut in by the convent wall +and high hedge, seemed to Fly like a box without a lid at the bottom of +a deep well of clear sky. +</P> + +<P> +She sniffed the cold air. Her happiness had gone from her, but she had +been mercifully delivered from her trouble. Suddenly a hand gripped +her. Her godmother pointed with the spiked finger of a black kid glove +to Honeybird's garden. It was a bare patch—nothing grew there—for +what Honeybird planted one day she dug up the next. To-day Honeybird +evidently had made a new bed-centre, and bordered it with cockle +shells. Fly's knees shook under her. In the middle of that bed, +coming up through the newly-turned earth, with a ring of cockle shells +round its neck, was the head of a big yellow cat. It was here +Honeybird had buried her husband—buried him, unfortunately, as she +always buried birds, with his head out, in case he felt lonely in the +dark. Miss Black was down on her knees, clearing the earth away. Fly +never thought of escape. She felt as though she were tied to the path. +She stood there while her godmother lifted the dead cat in her arms and +tenderly brushed the earth from its fur. Then the little lady turned +round. "Now she'll kill me," Fly thought. She lifted her terrified +eyes to Miss Black's face. How would she do it, she wondered. But her +godmother never seemed to notice her. Without a word she turned, and +walked quickly from the garden. A moment later Fly heard the gate +shut. She was too bewildered to move. The sound of wheels going down +the avenue roused her to the fact that her godmother had gone. She had +been found out, and no awful punishment had followed, but to her +surprise there was no relief in this. Fly felt as miserable as ever. +She looked up at the sky. A star showed above the pear-tree. She had +not meant to do anything wrong, but she had hurt somebody terribly. +Whose fault was it? Almighty God's or her own? The donkey carriage +was going slowly up the road; she could hear the whacking of a stick +and the driver's "gone a' that." Suddenly through the frosty air her +ear caught the sound of bitter weeping. Then Fly turned, and ran from +the garden, dashing wildly through Patsy's flower-bed in her haste to +get away from that heart-breaking sound. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE CHILD SAMUEL +</H4> + +<P> +Fly and Honeybird introduced Samuel Brown to Rowallan. They found him +sitting at the gate one day, and mistook him for the child Samuel. For +a long time they had been expecting the coming of a mysterious beggar, +who would turn out to be a saint or an angel in disguise. Such things +had often happened in Ireland, Lull said. But, although scores of +beggars came to Rowallan, so far no saint or angel had appeared. Most +of the beggars were too well known to cast off a disguise worn long and +successfully and suddenly declare themselves to be celestial visitors. +But now and then an unknown beggar came from nobody knew where, and +disappeared again into the same silent country. These nameless ones +kept the two children's faith and hope alive. Samuel was one of these. +Fly had spied his likeness to the child Samuel the minute she saw him +sitting at the gate tired and dejected. They went to work cautiously +to find out the truth, for they had got into trouble with Lull a few +days before for bringing into the house a possible St Anne, who had +stolen the schoolroom tablecloth. But when they asked his name, and he +said it was Samuel, they did not need much further proof. +</P> + +<P> +Was he the real child Samuel out of the Bible? Honey bird asked, to +make sure. The boy confessed he was. He had come straight from heaven +on purpose to visit them, he said. +</P> + +<P> +As they were taking him up to the house they met Patsy, and told him. +Patsy jeered at their tale, and reminded them of St Anne. But, in +spite of Patsy's warning, they took the beggar into the kitchen. +Patsy, disgusted at their folly, left them to do as they pleased. If +he had remembered that Lull was out he might have been more careful. +Half-an-hour later he caught sight of the child Samuel running down the +avenue wearing his best Sunday coat. Lull was very angry with Fly and +Honeybird when she came home. Mick and Jane said it was the beggar who +was to blame. Patsy had given chase, and did not come home till ten +o'clock that night. When he did come back he brought his Sunday coat +with him, as well as a black eye. He had followed the child Samuel to +the town, he said, and Eli had never given the boy as good a beating. +In spite of this beating and the discovery of his fraud Samuel came +back a few days later. His mother was sick, he said, and he had come +to borrow sixpence. Jane wanted Mick to give him a second beating. +</P> + +<P> +"Nasty wee ruffan, comin' here cheatin' two wee girls," she said. +</P> + +<P> +Samuel took no notice of her. He addressed his remarks to Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +"Anybuddy could chate them, but I'm thinkin' it'd be the divil's own +job to chate yerself," he said flatteringly. +</P> + +<P> +Patsy smiled. "Don't you try it on, that's all," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Do ye think I want another batin'?" Samuel grinned. He stayed, and +played with them all afternoon, in spite of Jane's plain-spoken +requests for him to be off. Before he left he had a good tea in the +kitchen, and got sixpence from Lull, who had a tender heart for the +poor. After that he came frequently. He said his mother was dying, +and wrung Lull's heart by his tales of the poor woman's sufferings. +Jane noticed, and did not fail to point out, that grief never spoilt +his appetite for pears. Now and then Samuel would silence her by a +wild fit of weeping. Patsy got angry with Jane for her cruelty. +</P> + +<P> +"Let the poor wee soul alone, an' quit yer naggin' at him," he said one +day, when Jane's repeated hints had made Samuel throw himself on the +grass to cry. +</P> + +<P> +"I wisht I believed he was tellin' no lies," was Jane's answer. +</P> + +<P> +Lull agreed with Patsy that Jane was too suspicious. +</P> + +<P> +"No good iver comes to them that's hasky with the poor," she told Jane. +Lull was Samuel's best friend. Every time he came she gave him +something for his dying mother. There was one thing the children did +not like about Samuel: he never seemed to be content with what he got. +He begged for more and more, till even Patsy was ashamed of him. One +evening he grumbled because Lull had only given him a penny. He had +had a good tea, and his pockets were lined with apples to eat on the +way home. +</P> + +<P> +"It's hardly worth my while comin' if that's all I'm going to get," he +said. +</P> + +<P> +"Then don't be troublin' yerself to come anymore," said Jane; "we'll +niver miss ye." +</P> + +<P> +Samuel looked reproachfully at her. "How would ye like your own mother +to be dyin'?" he asked. Jane's heart melted at once. She offered him +flowers to take back. Samuel refused the flowers. "Thon half-crown ye +have in yer money-box'll be more to her than yer whole garden full," he +said. +</P> + +<P> +But Jane was not sympathetic enough for this. She said she was saving +up to buy Lull a pair of boots at Christmas. After he had gone she +wondered how he could have known about her money-box, and then +remembered that Fly and Honeybird had told him most of the history of +the house on his first visit. The very next day Samuel came to tell +them that his mother was dead. His eyes were red and swollen with +weeping. For half-an-hour after he came he sat in the kitchen sobbing +bitterly, and refusing to be comforted. Fly and Honeybird cried in +sympathy, and Jane would have cried too if she had not been so busy +watching him. He cried steadily, only stopping every now and then, to +wipe his nose on his sleeve. She decided she would give him the +black-bordered handkerchief she had treasured away in her drawer +upstairs; also, she would make a beautiful wreath for his mother's +coffin. But soon the terrible truth came out that there was no coffin. +Between bursts of sobs Samuel explained that his father was in gaol, +and he himself had not a penny to pay for the funeral. +</P> + +<P> +"An' her laid out an' all," he wept. "The neighbours done that much +for her. In as nice a shroud as ye'd wish to wear. She had it by her +this many's the day. But sorra a coffin has she, poor soul, an' God +knows where she's goin' to get wan." +</P> + +<P> +Lull was greatly distressed. "To be sure, the parish would bury the +woman," she said; "but God save us from a burial like that." She took +her teapot out of the cupboard, and gave Samuel five shillings. +</P> + +<P> +"If I had more ye'd be welcome to it, but that's every penny piece I've +got," she said. Samuel thanked her kindly, and murmured something +about money-boxes. Mick responded at once. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet ye we've got a good wee bit in them," he said joyfully. The +money-boxes were opened, and found to contain nearly ten shillings. +The children handed over their savings gladly to help Samuel in his +need. Even Jane rejoiced that she had her half-crown to give. Samuel +went away immediately after this, and not until he had been gone some +time did Jane remember the black-bordered pocket handkerchief. +However, she determined to take it to him, and also to take a wreath +for the coffin. After dinner she made the wreath in private. Lull +might have forbidden it if she had known. Then she called Mick and +Patsy, and they started for Samuel's house. He lived near the town, so +they had a long walk before they reached the squalid street. Some boys +were playing marbles when the children turned the street corner. One +of them looked up, then rose, and fled into a house. Jane thought he +looked like Samuel, but she said nothing. Patsy had led the way so +far; now he stopped, and said they must ask which was the house. They +asked some women sitting on a doorstep. +</P> + +<P> +"If it's Mrs Brown ye want, she's been in her grave this six years," +one of them said. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Samuel tould us ye helped to lay her out this mornin'," said Jane +indignantly. A drunken-looking woman came forward. +</P> + +<P> +"To be sure we did," she said. Jane fancied she saw her wink at the +others. "Samuel tould ye his poor mother was dead, didn't he, dear? I +suppose ye've brought a trifle for him, the poor orphan." +</P> + +<P> +"Which house does he live in?" Jane asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't trouble yerselves to be goin' up. The place is not fit for +quality. Lave yer charity with me, an' I'll give it to the childe." +Jane insisted on going up. The woman said she would bring Samuel down +to them. She seemed anxious to keep them back. But suddenly Samuel +himself appeared at a door. +</P> + +<P> +"I knowed ye'd mebby come," he said in a hushed voice as he led them up +the stairs. He pushed open a door, and invited them to step in. +</P> + +<P> +"The place is that dirty I hardly like to ask ye," he said. The room +was very dirty, but the children hardly noticed this. All their +attention was concentrated on the bed where the corpse lay, straight +and stiff, covered with a sheet. They stood silently by, awed by the +outlines of that rigid figure. Jane began to wish she had not insisted +on coming upstairs. But it was their duty to look at the dead. Samuel +would be hurt if they did not; he would think they were wanting in +respect. She dreaded the moment when he would turn back the sheet, and +show them the cold, unnatural face, that would haunt her eyes for days. +Breathing a prayer that God would not let her be frightened she stepped +forward, and put the wreath at the foot of the bed. As she did so her +hand touched something hard. At once fear gave place to suspicion. +Under cover of the wreath she felt again, and made sure the corpse was +wearing a pair of hobnailed boots. She looked carefully, and saw that +the sheet was moved as if by gentle breathing. Samuel, weeping at the +head of the bed, never offered to turn back the sheet. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like to luk at her face," said Jane at last. +</P> + +<P> +Samuel cried more than ever. "Don't ast me," he said. "The poor soul +got that thin that I'd be feared for ye to see her." +</P> + +<P> +"God rest her, anyhow," said Mick piously. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm thinkin' that's the quare thing," said Jane, looking hard at +Samuel, "not to show a buddy the corpse. I niver heard tell a' the +like." Samuel's answer was more tears. Mick and Patsy were both +ashamed of their sister. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm thinkin' she's not dead at all," Jane went on. +</P> + +<P> +"Whisht, Jane; are ye clean mad?" Mick remonstrated. Samuel stopped +crying. "Can't ye see for yerself she's dead right enough?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd be surer if I seen her face," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +Mick in disgust turned to go, but Jane stood still. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait a minute till I fix this flower that's fallen out," she said, +noting with satisfaction that Samuel looked uneasy. She watched the +figure under the sheet, and made sure it was breathing regularly then +she took a pin out of her dress, and bent over to arrange the wreath. +Suddenly her hand dropped on the sheet. There was a yell of pain, and +the corpse sat bolt upright. Samuel's fraud was laid bare. His dead +mother was a man with a black beard. +</P> + +<P> +"God forgive ye, ye near tuk the leg aff me," he shouted, "jabbin' pins +into a buddy like that." +</P> + +<P> +"Shame on ye!"—Jane's eyes blazed; "lettin' on to be dead; I've the +quare good mind to tell the polis." She turned to Samuel, but he had +gone. Patsy had gone too; only Mick stood there, with a white, scared +face. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on ar this for a polisman," she said wrathfully, and swept Mick +before her. The corpse was still rubbing his leg. Out on the street +the women crowded round to know what had happened. Jane pushed her way +through them. +</P> + +<P> +"I think ye all a pack a' rogues," was the only answer she would give +to their questions. Patsy was nowhere to be seen, so they turned +sorrowfully homeward, to tell Lull for what they had parted with their +savings. Patsy followed them a few hours later. He had been looking +for Samuel to beat him, but Samuel had got away. He never came back to +Rowallan. They watched for him for weeks, but never saw him again. +The thought of the first beating Patsy had given him was the only +satisfaction they ever got from the memory of Samuel Brown. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE BEST FINDER +</H4> + +<P> +The children had gone on an excursion that would have been too far for +Honeybird, and had left her playing on the grassy path. It was a +favourite place, especially in May, when the apple-trees, that made a +thick screen on one side, were in blossom, and the grass was starred +with dandelions and daisies. There was not a safer spot in the garden, +the hedge was thick, the path was sunny, and it was a part ould Davy, +the cross gardener, never came near. Patsy had allowed her to play +with his rabbits and call them hers while he was away. He had carried +out the hutches for her before he started. Honeybird was quite content +to be left at home when she could play with the rabbits. She played +being mother to them. Mr Beezledum, the white Angora, was her eldest +son. Together, mother and son, they went to market to buy dandelions +for the children at home, bathed in the potato patch that was the sea, +and went to church under the hedge. It was the nature of children to +hate going to church, she knew, so when Beezledum struggled and +protested against having his fur torn by thorns she only gripped him +closer, and sternly sang a hymn. Beezledum suffered a great deal; for +Honeybird liked this part of the game best, and went to church more +often than to market. When Mick looked back from the far end of the +path as he started she was already under the hedge, with Beezledum +struggling in her arms. He heard her shrill voice singing: "Shall we +gather at the river?" +</P> + +<P> +The day was warm and bright. The children tramped for miles, and it +was nearly eight o'clock when they came home, tired and hungry, and +clamouring for food. But the minute they saw Lull's face they saw that +something had happened. Her eyes were red with crying. Teressa was in +the kitchen too, wiping her eyes on the corner of her old plaid shawl. +It was Honeybird, Lull said when she could speak, for the sight of the +children made her cry again. Honeybird was lost; she had been missing +since dinner-time. Andy Graham and ould Davy were out scouring the +countryside for her. The children did not wait to hear more. They ran +at once to the grassy path where they had left Honeybird in the +morning. Mrs Beezledum was turning over half a ginger biscuit in her +hutch, the other rabbits were nibbling at the bars for food, but all +that was left of Honeybird and Mr Beezledum was a tuft of white fur in +the hedge. For a minute the children looked at each other, afraid to +speak. One of their terrors had come at last. Honeybird had been +stolen. Either the Kidnappers or the Wee People had taken her. The +children stared at each other's white faces as they realised what had +happened. If the Kidnappers, those tall, thin, half men, half devils, +had taken her they would carry her away behind the mountains, and there +they would cut the soles off her feet, and put her in a hot bath till +she bled to death. And if the Wee People had got her it would be to +take her under the ground, where she would sigh for evermore to come +back to earth. Mick's voice was thick when he spoke. "We'll hunt for +the wee sowl till we drop down dead," he said. +</P> + +<P> +The fear of the Kidnappers was the most urgent, so towards the +mountains they must go first. The rest started at a run that soon left +Fly behind; but they dared not wait for her, and though she did her +best to keep up they were soon out of sight. But Fly never for a +moment thought of going back. Left to herself she jogged along with +her face to the mountains. The sun, setting behind Slieve Donard, +threw an unearthly glow over the fields. The mountains looked bigger +and wilder than ever, the sky farther away. Everything seemed to know +what had happened, even the birds were still, and a silence like an +enchantment made the whole country strange. +</P> + +<P> +At last, in the middle of the field, Fly stopped, with a stitch in her +side. A flaming red sky stared her in the face, a wild, unknown land +stretched away on every side. Things she had been afraid of but had +only half believed in crowded round her. She saw now that they had +been real all the time, and had only been waiting for a chance to come +out of their hiding-places. Strange faces grinned at her from the +whins, cold eyes frowned at her from the stones. In another minute +that ragged bramble would turn back into an old witch. And behind the +mountains the Kidnappers were cutting the soles off Honeybird's feet. +With a wail of anguish Fly began to run again. She was not afraid of +the fiends and witches. They might grin and frown and laugh that low, +shivering laugh behind her if they liked—her Honeybird, her own +Honeybird, was behind the mountains, alone with those awful Kidnappers. +</P> + +<P> +"Almighty God, make them ould Kidnappers drop our wee Honeybird," she +wailed. +</P> + +<P> +Then she stopped again. She had forgotten that Almighty God could help. +</P> + +<P> +But He would not help unless He were asked properly. For a moment she +doubted the wisdom of stopping to ask. She was conscious of many +grudges against her. This very day she had promised she would not do +one naughty thing if God would let it be fine—and then had forgotten, +and played being Moses when they were bathing, and struck the sea with +a tail of seaweed to make it close over Patsy, who was Pharaoh's host. +But her trouble was so great that, perhaps, if she confessed her sin He +would forgive her this time. So she knelt down, and folded her hands. +"Almighty God," she began, "I'm sorry I didn't keep my promise about +being good, I'm sorry I was Moses, I'm sorry I'm such a bad girl, but +as sure as I kneel on this grass I'll be good for iver an' iver if +ye'll send back our wee Honeybird." +</P> + +<P> +Tears blinded and choked her for a moment. Almighty God could do +everything, could help her now so easily. It wouldn't hurt Him just +for once, she thought. She went on repeating her promise to be good, +begging and coaxing, but no sign came from the flaring heavens. At +last she got desperate. "If ye don't I'll niver believe in ye again," +she shouted, then added: "Oh, please, I didn't mean to be rude, but we +want our poor, poor, wee Honeybird." She laid her face down on the +grass, and sobbed. +</P> + +<P> +Almighty God might have helped her, she thought. It wasn't much she +had done to make Him cross after all—but, then, He was just—and she +had made Moses cross too. But Honeybird must be saved from the +Kidnappers, and if Almighty God would not help Fly knew she must go on +herself. She dried her eyes on her sleeve, and was getting up from her +knees, when something white hopped out from behind a whin. It was +Beezledum; and when Fly looked in under the whin there was Honeybird +fast asleep. She knelt down, and folded her hands again. "Almighty +God," she said, "I'll niver, niver to my dyin' day forget this on ye." +Then with a yell of joy she ran to wake Honeybird. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-085"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-085.jpg" ALT="When Fly looked in under the whin there was Honeybird fast asleep." BORDER="2" WIDTH="414" HEIGHT="584"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 414px"> +When Fly looked in under the whin <BR> +there was Honeybird fast asleep. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +There was great rejoicing when they got home. Lull hugged and kissed +them both, and made Honeybird tell her story over and over again. +</P> + +<P> +"It was that ould Beezledum," Honeybird said; "he didn't like goin' to +church, an' he ran away through the hedge. An he run on an' on, an' I +thought I'd niver catch him. An' when I catched him, an begun to come +home, I was awful tired, an' I just sat down to get my breath, and Fly +came and woke me up." +</P> + +<P> +About ten o'clock the others came home, despairing of ever seeing +Honeybird again. They had met ould Davy at the gates, who told them to +run on and see what was sitting by the kitchen fire. +</P> + +<P> +What was sitting by the kitchen fire when they came in was Honeybird +eating hot buttered toast. +</P> + +<P> +Lull pulled up their stools to the fire, and took a plate of toast that +she had made for them out of the oven. The rest of the evening was +spent in rejoicing. Fly began to be elated. +</P> + +<P> +It was she who had found Honeybird. The others had run on and left +her, but she was the best finder after all. They praised her till she +was only second to Honeybird in importance. The desire to shine still +more got the better of her; though her conscience hurt she would not +heed it. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye'll find I knowed where to look," she said; "ye'll find I know +things." +</P> + +<P> +Lull and the four others listened with breathless interest to her tale. +Andy Graham came in from the stables to hear it. Fly got more and more +excited. "When ye all left me," she said, "I just run on till I come +to the quarest place, all whins an' big stones an' trees, an' I can +tell ye I was brave an' scared; I was just scared out a' my skin. But +I keep on shoutin': 'Where's our wee Honeybird? Give us back our wee +Honeybird,' an' all the time I run on like mad, shoutin' hard, an' I +lifted a big stick, an' sez I: 'If ye don't give us back our wee +Honeybird I'll wreck yer ould country an' I'll burn yer ould +thorn-trees,' an' I shook the big stick. 'Do ye hear me?' sez I—'for +I will, as sure as I'm standin' on this green grass.' An' with that +something white jumped out, an', sure enough, this was Beezledum, and +Honeybird fast asleep in under a whin." +</P> + +<P> +"God love ye, but ye were the brave chile," said Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"An' as I was comin' away," Fly went on, "I throwed down the big stick, +an' I shouted out: 'I'll thank ye all, an' I'll niver, niver to my +dyin' day forget it on ye.'" +</P> + +<P> +They praised her again and again. No one had ever such a triumph. But +in the middle of the night yells of terror from the nursery brought +Lull from her bed. Fly was sitting up in bed howling, the others were +huddled round her. Mick and Honeybird were crying with her, but Jane +and Patsy were dry-eyed and severe. Almighty God's eye had looked in +at the window at her, Fly said. He had come to send her to hell for +the awful lie she had told. Patsy said she deserved to go. "It's in +the Bible," Jane said: "all liars shall have a portion of the lake of +burnin' fire an' brimstone." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, she's only a wee chile, an' how could she know any better?" Mick +remonstrated. "God'd be the quare old tyrant if He sent her to hell +for a wee lie like thon." +</P> + +<P> +"But, after Him lettin' her off one lie, He'll be clean mad with her by +this time," said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +"Whist, childer dear," said Lull, as she put them all back to bed and +tucked them in. "Sure, the Almighty has somethin' better to do than be +puttin' the likes a' yous in hell. Just be aff to sleep, an' I'll say +my beads, an' the Holy Mother'll put in a good word for the chile afore +mornin'." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A STOCKING FULL OF GOLD +</H4> + +<P> +Mrs Kelly and her grandson Tom lived in one of the two cottages just +outside the gates. Her husband, when he was alive, had worked in the +garden at Rowallan. She was a sprightly little woman, rosy-cheeked and +black-eyed, and always wore a black woollen hood, that had a border of +grey fur, around her face. The children loved to go to tea with her, +to eat potato bread just off the griddle, and hear the tales of the +days when she was young: when the boys and girls would go miles for the +sake of a dance, and when there was not a wake in the countryside that +she did not foot it with the best, in her white muslin dress and white +stockings. +</P> + +<P> +Lull said Mrs Kelly hadn't her sorrows to seek. But the children +thought they had never seen anyone who looked more cheerful. She +herself said there were not many old women who were so well off. +"Sure, I've got me wee house, that I wouldn't change for a king's +palace," she said one day, "an' me grandson Tom, that niver said a +wrong word to me. Wouldn't I be the quare old witch if I didn't be +thankin' Almighty God for it!" +</P> + +<P> +But one morning ould Davy, who lived in the next cottage, when he came +to work, brought a message from Mrs Kelly to say that Tom was ill. +Jane, who went down to see what was the matter, came back crying. +</P> + +<P> +"He's goin' to die," she said, choking back her tears, "an' she's +sittin' by the fire cryin' her heart out." +</P> + +<P> +"Auch, the critter! she's had sorras enough without that," said Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"What ails him?" Mick asked. +</P> + +<P> +"He's got consumption, an' she says—she says—she's buried eight a' +them with it." +</P> + +<P> +"God help her! she was the brave wee woman," said Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"Mebby he'll get better," said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll niver do that in this world," Lull said sadly. +</P> + +<P> +"It's just awful," said Jane. "She says there's no cure for it. It'd +break yer heart to see her sittin' there." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure as anything Doctor Dixey could cure him," said Fly. "Didn't +he mend Patsy's foot when he hurted it in the threshin' machine? An' +didn't he take them ould ulsters out a' my throat?" +</P> + +<P> +There was some hope in this, the children thought. And though Lull +shook her head she allowed them to send Andy for Doctor Dixey. It was +not until the evening that the doctor came. Lull had promised that +they might stay up to hear what he thought about Tom. When he did +come, and Lull took him down to Mrs Kelly's house, he stayed there +nearly an hour. The children were getting very sleepy when he came +back into the school-room. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," he said, pulling up a chair to the fire, "so you want me to +cure this boy Tom?" +</P> + +<P> +Mick nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"I think it could be done," Doctor Dixey went on. "But it would cost a +deal of money—more than any of us can afford to spend." +</P> + +<P> +"How much?" Jane asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Ten pounds at least, and then it's only a chance. And the old woman +will be left alone in any case." +</P> + +<P> +They looked inquiringly at him. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, the only chance is to send him abroad. He'll die if he stays +here. And when he gets there he'll have to stay there. So the +grandmother would miss him just as much as if he——" +</P> + +<P> +"She wouldn't care," Jane interrupted. "Sure, couldn't he write +letters to her if he was alive! An' he couldn't do that if he was +dead." +</P> + +<P> +"But the money—where's that to come from?" said Doctor Dixey. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll just have to fin' it," said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid that will be a hard job," said Doctor Dixey as he got up to +go. "But I'll see to the boy while he's here, and if you find the +money I'll find the ship." +</P> + +<P> +They sat up for another hour, talking it over with Lull. She said it +was hopeless to think of such a lot of money, but the children declared +that they would find it somewhere. After they had gone to bed, and +Lull had put out the candle, Jane heard a noise in the dark room. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's that?" she said, starting up in bed. +</P> + +<P> +"It's on'y me sayin' me prayers," said Honeybird. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye said them wanst afore," said Jane. "Get into bed, an' be quiet." +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird got into bed, but in about three minutes she was out again. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter now?" said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"It's on'y me sayin' me prayers," Honeybird answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, ye said them twiced afore," said Fly crossly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sayin' them three times for luck," said Honeybird as she got back +into bed. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning Mick and Jane started off together to look for the money. +Soon after they had gone Honeybird came into the kitchen with her best +hood on, and said she was going out to see somebody. "Don't ye be +feared," she said when Lull had tied the strings of her hood. "I'll be +away the quare long time, but I'll bring ye all somethin' nice when I +come back." +</P> + +<P> +An hour later she was knocking at the door of the big white house, two +miles away, where old Mr M'Keown lived. None of the children had ever +been there before; but they had heard about Mr M'Keown from Teressa, +who went once a week to do his washing, and who had told them stories +of how he lived all by himself, with not even a servant to look after +him, and kept all his money tied up in old stockings. +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird's heart was full of joy. Last night she had asked Almighty +God to let her find the money for Tom Kelly, and when she got back into +bed for the last time Almighty God had reminded her that old Mr M'Keown +had stockings full of gold. +</P> + +<P> +After rapping for a long time on the panels of the front door—she +could not reach the knocker—she walked round to the back of the house, +and knocked there. But still there was no answer. Then she tried the +side door. By this time her knuckles were sore, and, as she found she +could turn the handle, she opened the door, and walked in. A long +passage led to the hall, where she stopped, and looked round. There +were doors on every side, but they were all shut. The first door she +opened showed another passage, the second led into a dark room. But +when she opened the third door she saw an old man sitting in an +arm-chair by a fire. Honeybird smiled at him. Then she shut the door +carefully behind her, and went up to him, holding out her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"An' how're ye, Mister M'Keown?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +A bony hand closed over hers for a second, but Mr M'Keown did not +speak. Honeybird pulled up a chair to the fire. "I hurted me han' +rappin' on thon dours," she said, "so I just come in at last." +</P> + +<P> +"May I ask who you are?" said Mr M'Keown in a thin voice. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm Honeybird Darragh," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Darragh!" he repeated. "Ah, yes." +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird's eyes wandered round the room. Cupboards with glass doors +lined the walls, and the cupboards were full of china. "Can I look at +them things?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, certainly," said Mr M'Keown. +</P> + +<P> +She got off her chair, and went round the room. In one cupboard there +were china ladies and gentlemen in beautiful clothes. She sighed +before it. "Auch, I wisht I was a lady," she said, coming back to the +fire. "Wouldn't ye like to have long hair, Mister M'Keown?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid it would not afford me much pleasure," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird looked at him again. He was very thin, and his long back was +bent. "Aren't you feared to live here all by yer lone?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Afraid? What should I be afraid of?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm feared," she said, "an' there's me an' Fly an' Patsy an' Mick an' +Jane an' Lull an' mother—all them—an' I'm feared to death sometimes." +</P> + +<P> +"What are you afraid off?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm feared a' ghosts an' Kidnappers, an' Skyan the Bugler, an' the +buggy boo an' the banshee, an' when I'm a bad girl I'm awful feared a' +the divil." +</P> + +<P> +"Surely that is a rare occurrence?" said Mr M'Keown. +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird did not understand. "Aren't ye feared a' them things?" she +asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Not in the least," he replied. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll hould ye ye're feared robbers'll come an' steal all yer stockin's +full of gold," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"My stockings full of gold!" he repeated, looking puzzled. +</P> + +<P> +"Teressa sez ye've got hapes an' hapes a' them," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid they only exist in Theresa's imagination," he said. "I +have not got one stocking full of gold." +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird stared. "Then ye haven't got one to give away?" she faltered. +</P> + +<P> +Mr M'Keown sat up in his chair, and made a crackling noise in his +throat, that grew more distinct, till at last Honeybird realised that +he was laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"I have not laughed for ten years," he said, smiling at her. +</P> + +<P> +She tried to smile back, but her eyes were full of tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you expect me to give you a stocking full of gold?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, I did," she said sadly. "I was tould to come an' ast ye for +it." +</P> + +<P> +Mr M'Keown frowned. "Ah," he said; "so it was not simplicity?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; it was a hape a' money," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you can tell me the exact sum?" +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, I can," she said; "it was just ten pounds." +</P> + +<P> +"Ten pounds! What madness!" he exclaimed. "And, pray, is it to build +a new chapel or to convert the Jews that you have been sent to beg such +a sum?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's just to make Tom Kelly better," she said, the tears running down +her cheeks. "He's goin' to die, and Mrs Kelly's buried eight a' them, +and Jane sez she's heart bruk, and Doctor Dixey sez ten pounds'll cure +him." +</P> + +<P> +Mr M'Keown coughed. "Did Doctor Dixey send you to beg for the money?" +she said. +</P> + +<P> +She shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps it was Father Ryan or Mr Rannigan?" +</P> + +<P> +Again she shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Was it your sister?" +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, it wasn't Jane, for she just hates ye; she always says ye're an +ould miser, an' ye'd skin a flint." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sorry that my conduct does not meet with her approval," Mr +M'Keown said. "But I shall be glad if you will tell me to whom I am +indebted for the honour of your visit." +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird looked at him. She did not understand what he meant. +</P> + +<P> +"Who sent you here?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Almighty God tould me to come," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Almighty God?" he said. "I do not understand." +</P> + +<P> +"I ast Him to let me fin' the money to cure Tom Kelly. An' I said me +prayers three times for luck. An' when I was gettin' into bed the last +time Almighty God just said in a wee whisper: 'Ould Mister M'Keown's +the boy.'" Her disappointment was so bitter that she could not stop +crying. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you tell this to anyone?" Mr M'Keown asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't tell a sowl. I got Lull to tie on me Sunday hood, 'an' came +here as quick as quick." For some time neither spoke. Mr M'Keown was +walking up and down the room. Honeybird was sniffing, and wiping her +eyes on her pinafore. At last Mr M'Keown came back to his chair. +"Will you tell it to me all over again?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell ye all from the start," she said. "Jane said Tom Kelly was +goin' to die, and Fly said Doctor Dixey could cure him, 'cause he took +the ulsters out a' her throat. An' Doctor Dixey come, an' sez he: 'I +can make him better with ten pounds,' sez he, 'an' if yous can fin' the +money I'll fin' the ship.": +</P> + +<P> +"What is the matter with this Tom?" Mr M'Keown interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"He's got consumption. An' we thought an' thought, an' Jane ast Lull +to pawn our Sunday clothes. An' Lull said they weren't worth more'n a +pound. An' when we went to bed I prayed like anythin', an' Almighty +God tould me to come here." She got up, and held out her hand. "I may +as well be sayin' good-mornin' to ye, Mister M'Keown," she said. +</P> + +<P> +Mr M'Keown took her hand, but did not let it go again. "Perhaps +Almighty God did not tell you to come to me," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, He did," she said, trying to swallow a sob; "but mebby He was +just makin' fun a' me." +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly I have not got stockings full of gold," Mr M'Keown said. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I was thinkin' ye had," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Ten pounds!" he murmured, looking into the fire. Then he got up from +his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you wait here by the fire till I come back?" he said, and went +out of the room. +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird-sat down again. Her heart was heavy. She had pictured to +herself how she would go home with the stocking full of gold, and how +glad the others would be when they saw the money, and knew that Tom +Kelly could be cured. But now she must go back empty-handed. Mr +M'Keown was gone such a long time that she grew tired of waiting, and +got up to go home. But before she reached the door it opened, and he +came in. He had something in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Come here," he said, and, to her astonishment, he laid on the table a +handful of glittering gold pieces. +</P> + +<P> +"That is ten pounds," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird looked bewildered. +</P> + +<P> +"It is for you if you will accept it," he said. +</P> + +<P> +She answered by throwing her arms round his legs and hugging them +tight. Mr M'Keown took her hand, and went back to his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"An' what made ye say ye had none, ye ould ruffan?" she said, hugging +him round the neck this time, till he had to beg to be allowed to +breathe. +</P> + +<P> +"I think you must ask Doctor Dixey to call here for it," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird's face fell. "Auch, sure I can take it home myself," she +said. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid you might lose it," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"How could I lose it?" she said. "Are ye feared I'd drop it? 'Cause I +tell ye what: I couldn't drop it if ye'd put it in an ould stockin' for +me to carry." +</P> + +<P> +Mr M'Keown smiled. "Perhaps a sock would do," he said. He went out of +the room again, and came back with a sock. "But it will not be full," +he said, as he tied the money in the toe. Then he said he would walk +back with her. Honeybird went with him to get his coat, and brushed +his top-hat for him with her arm, as Andy Graham had taught her. They +set out, hand-in-hand, Honeybird carrying the sock. Mr M'Keown walked +very slowly, and Honeybird talked all the way. She told him about her +mother and Lull and Andy Graham, what she played, and what the others +did, till they came to the gates of Rowallan. +</P> + +<P> +"Now I shall leave you," Mr M'Keown said. +</P> + +<P> +She kissed him good-bye, and when, half way up the avenue, she turned +to look back he was gone. The others were having dinner. Jane and +Mick had come back. Honeybird ran into the schoolroom, waving the sock. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye were quare and cross with me for gettin' out a' bed last night, +weren't ye, Janie? But luk what it got me." She shook the gold out of +the sock on to the table. +</P> + +<P> +They all danced round her while she told her tale. And when they ran +down and told Mrs Kelly she was so bewildered by the news that she +could not believe it till they brought her up and showed her the little +heap of gold on the table. Honeybird was the least excited of them +all; not even when Doctor Dixey came and made her tell her adventures +twice over did she lose her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, Almighty God always does anythin' I ast Him," she said. "Mind +ye, He's quare an' obliging; if I loss anythin' He fin's it for me as +quick as quick." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, He worked a miracle for you this time," said Doctor Dixey. +</P> + +<P> +A fortnight later Honeybird wrote, or rather Jane held her hand while +she wrote, to Mr M'Keown. +</P> + +<P> +"I write to tell you that Tom Kelly is away to Africa," the letter ran. +"And Mrs Kelly cried and old Davy said he would be her grandson now and +that would make you laugh again if you knowed Davy for he is the cross +old man and never says a word but it is a bad one and Doctor Dixey +knowed a man there and Jane is awful sorry she called you an old miser." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE BANTAM HEN +</H4> + +<P> +"Father Ryan's lost his wee bantam hen," said Patsy when they were +having supper one evening. "Ould Rosie was out lukin' for it as I come +past the presbytery." +</P> + +<P> +"Somebuddy's stole it," said Honeybird. Mick challenged this statement. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it's just like what somebuddy 'ud do," Honeybird replied. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm goin' to help ould Rosie to luk for it the morra," said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird looked up from her porridge. "Ye'll niver fin' it," she +said. "Somebuddy that lives away at the other side a' the town tuk it. +I seen him goin' away with it under his arm." +</P> + +<P> +The others stopped scraping their plates to look at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't ye tell us afore?" Jane asked. +</P> + +<P> +"'Cause I was feared," said Honeybird. "He tould me that if I telt +anybuddy he'd come back an' cut my throat." +</P> + +<P> +The family stared at her. Here was a wonderful adventure Honeybird had +been through, and had never said a word about it till this minute. +Questions poured in on her. Lull, remembering that Honeybird had been +out by herself all afternoon, listened anxiously. Honeybird glanced +quickly over her shoulder, as though she were afraid of being +overheard. "I was coming along the road," she began, lowering her +voice, "when who should I meet but a big, wicked-lukin' man, with a +baldy head on him, an' two roun' eyes as big as saucers." +</P> + +<P> +"Away ar that, Honeybird," Patsy interrupted. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I can tell ye they luked like that to me," said Honeybird. "An' +just as he was passin' me I seen a wee beak keekin 'out a' his pocket, +an' sez I to myself: 'Thon's Father Ryan's bantam hen.'" Honeybird had +an attentive audience. "An' sez I to him: 'Drap it,' sez I." +</P> + +<P> +"Lord love ye, child, the man might 'a' hurted ye," said Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"He very near did," said Honeybird. "He lifted a big stone, an' +clodded it at me, an' sez he: 'If ye tell on me I'll cut yer throat,' +sez he." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the last time ye're out stravagin' the roads by yer lone," said +Lull. "Yez'll not have to lave the wee sowl after this," she cautioned +the others. They were as frightened as Lull. +</P> + +<P> +They treated Honeybird as though she had been rescued from some +terrible danger. Next morning Andy was told. He questioned Honeybird +closely, and said he would give a description of the man to Sergeant +M'Gee. Honeybird remembered that the man had red whiskers, and carried +a big stick. Later on she remembered that he had bandy legs and a +squint. The more frightened the others grew at the thought of the +dangers she had been exposed to the more terrible grew her description +of the man's appearance. Once or twice Jane had a suspicion that +Honeybird was adding to the truth, but when questioned Honeybird stuck +to the same tale, and never contradicted herself. +</P> + +<P> +"God be thankit no harm come to the wee sowl," said Mick when Honeybird +had gone off to play, in charge of Fly and Patsy. "I'll be feared to +let her out a' my sight after this." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll hould ye Sergeant M'Gee'll keep a luk out for thon boy," said +Jane. They were up in the loft getting hay for Rufus. +</P> + +<P> +"Wasn't she the quare brave wee thing to tell the man to drap the +priest's hen?" said Mick. Jane lifted a bundle of hay. +</P> + +<P> +"She's an awful good wee child, anyway," she answered. "What's that +scrapin' in the corner?" she added. +</P> + +<P> +She stepped over the hay to look. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" said Mick. Jane did not answer. He repeated his +question, and Jane turned a bewildered face. +</P> + +<P> +"Come here an' see," she said. In the corner, where a place had been +cleared for the purpose, a bantam hen was tethered by a string to a +nail in the floor! +</P> + +<P> +"God help us," said Mick, "but why an' iver did he hide it here?" +</P> + +<P> +"He!" said Jane, "don't you see the manin' af it? She's stole it +herself, an' tould us all them lies on purpose." +</P> + +<P> +Mick could hardly be brought to believe this. +</P> + +<P> +"Did ye iver hear tell a' such badness?" said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Mebby she niver knowed what she was doin'," said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't she just," said Jane; "she knowed enough to tell a quare good +lie." +</P> + +<P> +"We'd better go an' ast her if she done it," said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +They found Honeybird playing on the lawn with the two others, and led +her away to the top of the garden. Jane began the accusation. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know, Honeybird, we think you're a wee thief," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear forgive ye," said Honeybird. +</P> + +<P> +"We seen the bantam," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird looked up quickly. "Then just you lave it alone, an' mind +yer own business," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know that you are a thief an' a liar, Honeybird Darragh?" said +Jane sternly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what if I am?" said Honeybird. "Sure, I'm on'y a wee child, an +know no better." +</P> + +<P> +"Ye know the commandments an' 'Thou shall not steal' as well as I do," +said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"I forget them sometimes," said Honeybird; "besides, too, I niver stole +it. It as near as ninepence walked up into my pinny." +</P> + +<P> +"Where was it?" Mick asked. +</P> + +<P> +"It was out walkin' on the road all by its lone," said Honeybird, "an' +if I hadn't 'a' tuk it mebby somebuddy else would." +</P> + +<P> +"Then ye niver seen no bad man with a baldy head at all?" Mick asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I didn't," Honeybird confessed; "but I might 'a' seen him all the +same." +</P> + +<P> +"Luk here, me girl," said Jane, "you've just got to walk that bantam +hen back to Father Ryan." +</P> + +<P> +"I will not," said Honeybird. +</P> + +<P> +"Then we'll tell Lull." +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird began to cry. "If ye do I'll run away, an' niver, niver come +home any more," she said. Jane was dumfounded. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye can't go on bein' a thief, Honeybird," she said at last. "We on'y +want to make ye good." +</P> + +<P> +"Then ye'll not make me good," said Honeybird. "If ye tell anybuddy +I'll be as bad as bad as the divil, so I just will." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, if ye don't give up the bantam Almighty God'll let ye know," +said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not a bit feared a' Him," Honeybird replied. Say what they would +they could not move her. Mick reasoned and Jane reasoned, but it was +all to no purpose. Honeybird was determined to stick to her sin. In +the end she got the better of them, for to put an end to her threats +they had to promise not to tell. Later in the day Andy also discovered +the bantam hen, and told Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't 'a' believed there was that much veeciousness in the wean," +he said. Andy was cross—he had been to the police barracks, and told +Sergeant M'Gee to look out for Honeybird's bad man. +</P> + +<P> +"God luk to yer wit, man," said Lull. "Sure, childer's always tryin' +their han' at some divilment or other." +</P> + +<P> +"She'd be the better af a good batin'," said Andy. +</P> + +<P> +"It'd be the quare wan would lift han' to a chile like thon," said +Lull. "I don't hould with batin's, anyway. Just take yer hurry, an' +ye'll see what'll happen." +</P> + +<P> +What did happen was that Honeybird brought an old hymn-book into the +kitchen that evening, and sat by the fire singing hymns. "I am Jesus' +little lamb," she was singing in a shrill voice when the others came +into supper. +</P> + +<P> +"Then ye're the quare black wan," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +Several days passed, and Honeybird showed no sign of repentance. She +even continued the tale of the bad man to Fly and Patsy, who did not +know the truth, and were still frightened of him. She said she had met +him again. Where and when she was not going to tell, for he had told +her he was going to America, and was never going to steal any more. He +had also said that if she were a good girl he would give her a bantam +hen for herself. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll on'y give ye the wan he stole from Father Ryan, an' then ye'll +have to take it back," said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"No; but he said it'd be wan he stole from somebuddy I niver seen or +knowed," said Honeybird. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you be takin' it," Patsy warned her. "The receiver's as bad as +the thief, ye know." +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird was disconcerted for a moment. "Who tould ye that?" she +asked. +</P> + +<P> +"It's in the Bible," said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I don't believe it," said Honeybird. "Anyway, Almighty God +forgets things half His time. I seen somebuddy that done a sin wanst, +an' He niver let on He knowed." +</P> + +<P> +That night Mrs Darragh was ill again. The children had all gone to +bed. Lull thanked God they were asleep as she sat by their mother's +side listening to her wild prayers and protestations of repentance. +"The childer'd make sure she was goin' to die if they heerd her," she +thought, and hoped the nursery door was securely shut. She had found +it was best to let Mrs Darragh cry till she had exhausted her grief. +Then she would fall asleep, and forget. Tonight it was past twelve +o'clock before Mrs Darragh slept. Lull made up the fire, and crept +softly out of the room to go to her own bed. But when she opened the +door she discovered the five children in their nightgowns sitting +huddled together in the passage. They looked at Lull with anxious eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Is she dead, Lull?" Jane asked. Lull drove them off to the nursery. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell us, Lull; is she dead?" Mick begged. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit a' her," said Lull cheerfully. "She's sleepin' soun'." She +tucked them into bed, and hurried back to see if they had waked their +mother. All was quiet there, and she was once more going off to bed, +when she heard voices in the nursery. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll take it back the morra, but I think Almighty God's not fair." It +was Honeybird's voice. "He might 'a' done some wee thing on me, an' +instead a' that He done the baddest thing He knowed." +</P> + +<P> +"Whist, Honeybird," came Jane's voice. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll not whist," said Honeybird. "He's near bruk my heart. Makin' +mother sick like that all for the sake of a wee bantam." +</P> + +<P> +"God help childer an' their notions," said Lull to herself. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning, when she was lighting the kitchen fire, a figure passed +the kitchen window. It was early for anybody to be about the place, so +Lull got up to see who it could be. It was Honeybird. She was running +quickly down the avenue, with something under her arm. She was back +again before breakfast. +</P> + +<P> +"How's mother?" were her first words. Lull assured her that Mrs +Darragh was better again. +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird gave a sigh of relief. "Och, but I got the quare scare," she +said. Lull pretended to know nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I may as well tell ye it was me stole Father Ryan's wee bantam," +said Honeybird. Lull expressed surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"An' sez I to myself: 'Almighty God niver knows that I know right well +it's a sin'"—she paused for a moment—"but He knowed all the time. +'Clare to you, Lull dear, I made sure He'd 'a' kilt mother afore I got +the wee bantam tuk back." +</P> + +<P> +"Did ye tell the priest that?" Lull asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Troth, I tould him ivery word from the very start," Honeybird answered. +</P> + +<P> +"An' what did he say to ye?" said Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"He's the awful nice man," said Honeybird. "He tried to make out that +Almighty God wasn't as bad as all that. But I know better. Anyhow, +he's goin' to buy me a wee bantam cock and hen, all for my very own, to +keep for iver." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE DORCAS SOCIETY +</H4> + +<P> +The Dorcas Society was Jane's idea. She thought of it one Monday +evening as they all sat round the kitchen fire watching Lull make soup +for the poor. A bad harvest had been followed by an unusually wild +winter. Storms such as had not been known for fifty years swept over +the country, and now, after three months of storm, February had come +with a hard frost and biting wind that drove the cold home to the very +marrow of your bones. In winters past the poor had come from miles +round to Rowallan, where a boiler full of soup was never off the +kitchen fire. This winter, driven by want, some of those who +remembered the old days had come back once more, and Lull, out of her +scanty store, had filled once more the big boiler. On this Monday +evening, as she stirred the soup, she mourned for the good days past. +</P> + +<P> +"Troth, Rowallan was the full an' plenty house when the ould master was +alive. Bad an' all as he was there was good in him. It was a sayin' +among the neighbours that if ye'd had three bellies on ye ye could 'a' +filled them all at Rowallan." Lull could have talked all night on this +subject. "An' the ould mistress, God have mercy on her; she'd have +blankets an' flannel petticoats, an' dear knows what all, for the women +an' childer; I'm sayin' Rowallan was the full an' plenty house wanst." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I wisht it was now," said Mick. "I met Anne M'Farlane on the +road the day, an' ye could see the bones of her through her poor ould +duds." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, I thought a quare pity a' her myself," said Patsy; "the teeth was +rattlin' in her head." +</P> + +<P> +"That'll make me cry when I'm in bed the night," said Honeybird +sorrowfully. +</P> + +<P> +It was then that the idea of a Dorcas Society, such as their mother had +told them of, came to Jane, and was taken up enthusiastically by the +others. "Ye get ould clothes, an' mend them, an' fix them for people," +she explained to Lull. "We could have a brave one with all them things +in the blue-room cupboards." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it the clothes of your ould ancestry ye're for givin' away? I'm +thinkin' ye'll get small thanks for that rubbidge," said Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, they're beautiful things, that warm an' thick," Jane protested, +"an' we'd fix them up first." Lull looked at the five eager faces +watching hers. She hated to damp their ardour, but she knew what the +village would think of such gifts. +</P> + +<P> +"Say yes, plaze," Honeybird begged, "or I'll be awful sorry ivery time +I mind Anne M'Farlane shiverin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, Lull; many's the time I can hardly sleep when I think the +people's cowld," said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"We'd begin at wanst," said Fly eagerly, and Lull weakly gave in. "God +send they don't be makin' scarecrows a' the poor," she murmured when +the children had departed in joyful haste to begin their Dorcas +Society. For three days they could think and talk of nothing else. +Lull, watching them, regretted that she had not the heart to discourage +them at the first, for they took such pleasure and pride in their +society that she could not disappoint them now. She did drop a few +hints, but nobody took any notice. The clothes from the blue-room +cupboards represented the fashions for the past fifty +years—full-skirted gowns, silk and satin, tarlatan, and bombazine +calashes, areophane bonnets, Dolly Varden hats, pelerines, burnouses, +shawls, tippets. At these Fly and Jane sewed from morning till night. +Fly saw the hand of Providence in an attack of rheumatism that kept Mr +Rannigan in bed and put off lessons for a week. The boys were at +school, but directly they came home they sat down by the schoolroom +fire to help. Honeybird could not sew; she unpicked torn linings and, +on Lull's suggestion, ripped off all unnecessary bows and fringes, +working so hard that she had two big blisters where the scissors chafed +her fingers. On Wednesday evening all the sewing was done, and the +children prepared to take the clothes to the village. Lull regretted +her weakness still more when she saw how pleased they were with their +work. They brought her into the schoolroom to show her everything +before they packed. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at that fine thing," said Honeybird, patting a red burnouse. +"That'll keep Anne M'Farlane's ould bones from rattlin'." Patsy held +up a buff-coloured satin gown, pointing out with pride where he had +filled up the deficiencies of a very low neck with the top of a green +silk pelerine. +</P> + +<P> +"That's more like a dress now, isn't it, Lull?" he said. "I'm thinkin' +whoiver wore that afore I fixed it must 'a' been on the bare stomach." +They packed the clothes in ould Davy's wheelbarrow and the ould +perambulator, and started off. Jane and Mick wheeled the loads. Patsy +held a lantern, Fly and Honeybird carried armfuls of bonnets and hats +that would have been crushed among the heavy things. Lull felt like a +culprit as she watched them go. She waited with some anxiety for them +to come home, but they came back as pleased as they had been when they +started. Everybody was delighted, and had promised to wear their gifts. +</P> + +<P> +"Anne M'Farlane cried, she was that glad," Honeybird told Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"An', mind ye, the things fitted quare an' well," said Mick. "The only +thing I have my doubts about was thon lilac boots ye give Mrs Cush." +</P> + +<P> +"They went on her all right," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, but I could see they hurted her all the same," said Mick; "but I +suppose they'll stretch." Lull thanked God in her heart that the +people had evidently taken the will for the deed. And perhaps, after +all, though the clothes were not fit to wear, some of them might be +useful—one of those satin dresses would be a warm covering on a bed. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning she was skimming the soup when old Mrs Kelly came in. +Lull turned to greet her, and saw to her surprise that Mrs Kelly wore a +tight black silk jacket and a green calash. "Saints presarve us, Mrs +Kelly, woman," she exclaimed, for a moment forgetting the Dorcas +Society. Mrs Kelly smiled weakly. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose I look like mad Mattie; but I couldn't be disappointin' the +childer. Ye'll tell them, Lull, I come up in them, won't ye? I give +them my word I would." Mrs Kelly departed with her soup, and Lull sat +down to face the fact that the people had taken the children seriously. +"Dear forgive me, I'm the right ould fool. The village'll be like a +circus the day," she murmured. A tall figure in vivid colours passed +the window. "God help us, there's Anne," she gasped. The next moment +Anne M'Farlane stood in the doorway. She wore a brown bombazine dress, +a red burnouse, and a bonnet of bright blue areophane. Lull greeted +her as though there were nothing unusual about her appearance. But +Anne, in no mood to notice this, stood still in the doorway. Lull +turned towards the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on in an' warm yerself, Anne," she said cheerfully, trying to +ignore Anne's dramatic attitude. A burst of weeping was the reply from +the figure in the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"Luk at me—luk!" wailed Anne. "Did ye iver see the like in all yer +days?—all the childer in the streets a-callin' after me. An' when I +met the priest on the road, sez he: 'Is it aff to a weddin' ye are in +Lent, Anne?' sez he." Lull could find nothing to say. She tried to +make Anne come in and have some tea, but Anne's woe was beyond the +comfort of tea. +</P> + +<P> +"Gimme the soup, an' I'll away home to my bed," she wept. "God help +me, I'd be better in my grave." She dried her eyes on the burnouse, +and took her soup, adding, as she turned to go: "Don't be lettin' on to +the weans, Lull. Their meanin' was a' the best, but it's an image upon +airth they've made a' me—me that always lived a moral life, an' hoped +to die a moral death." She went away crying. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the sore penance I'll get for this day's work," Lull muttered. +</P> + +<P> +Teressa was the next person to arrive, and to Lull's relief she wore +her own well-known green plaid shawl. On seeing this Lull took heart +again. Mrs Kelly and Anne M'Farlane were both such good-natured +bodies, perhaps they would be the only ones to wear the Dorcas +Society's gifts. But Teressa was charged with news. She was hardly +inside the door before she began. "Man, Lull, woman, but there's the +quare fun in the village the day. Ye'd split yer two sides at the +people. I niver laughed as many. Thon's the curiosities a' the +ould-fashionedest, to be sure. Silks an' satins trailin' round the +dours like tip-top quality rared in the parlour." She took a seat by +the fire. "God be thanked, the childer niver come near me; mebby +they'd 'a' made a kiltie a' me, like poor Mary M'Cann, the critter." +Before Lull had time to reply the door was once more opened, and old +Mrs Glover came in, looking very apologetic in the full-skirted, +buff-coloured satin gown that Patsy had made wearable. +</P> + +<P> +"Good mornin' to ye, Lull," she curtsied. "Is that yerself, Mrs +O'Rorke?" She was evidently on the verge of tears. Teressa looked +pityingly at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Och, but the quality does be makin' fun a' the poor," she said. Mrs +Glover's tears brimmed over. "The boyseys has laughed their fill at +me, an' me their ould granny," she quavered. "I'd do anythin' to +oblige, but I hadn't the nerve to come out in thon fur hat: Geordie +said I looked for all the world like an' ould rabbit in it." +</P> + +<P> +"A dacint woman like yerself. I'm sayin', I wonder the childer would +do the like," said Teressa sympathetically. Lull felt her temper +rising, but she was powerless to reply. Teressa invited Mrs Glover to +sit down. +</P> + +<P> +"They're stirrin' weans, an' I'm not aquil for them," Mrs Glover +murmured. +</P> + +<P> +Teressa nodded from the other side of the fire. "Families does be +terrible like other," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed ay; that's no lie," said Mrs Glover plaintively. "I mind their +ould grandfather afore them; many's the time the people be to curse the +Pope for him afore he'd let them have the wee drap a' soup." +</P> + +<P> +Lull rose in wrath. "Is it the weans ye're namin' wi that ould +ruffan?" she said fiercely—"an' them stitching an' rippin' for a pack +a' crabbit ould women that the saints in glory couldn't plaze." +</P> + +<P> +Teressa and Mrs Glover both got up hastily, full of apologies, but Lull +would not be appeased. She gave them their soup, and sent them off. +"People does be thinkin' quare things," she murmured as she watched +them go. "How an' iver am I going to tell the childer thon?" +</P> + +<P> +She had no need, however, to tell the children. The news came from an +unexpected quarter. Dinner was waiting on the schoolroom table, and +the children, standing by the fire, were still discussing their Dorcas +Society, when there came a tap at the door, and Miss Rannigan, the +rector's niece, walked in. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Rannigan was a little woman, prim and bird-like in her movements. +She came to stay at the Rectory about twice a year, and the children +avoided the place while she was there. She had never been to Rowallan +before, and they thought she must have come to tell them that Mr +Rannigan was dead. Her first words dispelled this fear. +</P> + +<P> +"Fie! oh, fie!" She pointed a black-kid finger at Jane. Jane quickly +reviewed her life to see which sin had been discovered. "The whole +village is intoxicated, you cruel child." They all stared at her. +"They tell me it was you made such shocking guys of those poor, +benighted old women who are now dancing in the street like drunken +playactors." A scarlet flame leapt from face to face; the children +turned to each other with burning cheeks. "If my uncle had been able +he would have come here himself," Miss Rannigan went on. +</P> + +<P> +"We—we—we——" Jane stammered; she could not tell Miss Rannigan about +the Dorcas Society. +</P> + +<P> +"Do not try to make excuses," said that lady. +</P> + +<P> +"We make no excuses," said Patsy wrathfully. "We done it a' purpose, +just for the pure divilment a' the thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Wean, dear!" Lull remonstrated. +</P> + +<P> +"Their meanin' was good, miss," she began. Andy's head appeared round +the door. +</P> + +<P> +"If ye plaze, Miss Jane, wee Cush is here, an' she says for the love of +God will ye come an' take them fancy boots off her ould granny that ye +put on last night, for ne'er a buddy else can. The ould woman niver +got a wink a' sleep, an' the two feet's burnin' aff her." +</P> + +<P> +"I should like to teach you what a mother is," said Miss Rannigan +grimly. +</P> + +<P> +"Do ye think she was tellin' the truth?" said Mick when she had gone. +</P> + +<P> +Jane was putting on her hat. "I'm goin' to see," she said. She +departed for the village, and the others went with her, in spite of +Lull's entreaties to them to stay and eat their dinner first. Lull put +the dinner in the oven, and then sat down and cried. They came back +miserably dejected. Miss Rannigan's tale was only too true. "There's +hardly wan sober," Jane explained. "Ould Mrs Cush is, 'cause the boots +hurted her that much she couldn't put fut to the flure. I had to cut +them off her." +</P> + +<P> +"Where did they get the drink?" Lull asked. +</P> + +<P> +"At the Red Lion. John M'Fall had them all in, an' made them drunk for +nuthin', 'cause they looked that awful funny in our clothes." Jane put +her head down on the table, and cried bitterly. Mick tried to comfort +her, while Fly and Honeybird wept on Lull's lap. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, ye did it all for the best, dear," Lull said. "It's meselfs the +bad ould fool not to see how it would be from the first." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Patsy began to laugh. "I can't help it if ye are cross wi' +me, Jane, but I wisht ye'd seen ould Mrs Glover in thon furry hat." +</P> + +<P> +Jane raised a wrathful face. "It's awful wicked of ye, Patsy, when +mebby they'll all be took up and put in gaol through us." +</P> + +<P> +"They can't be that," said Patsy, "for Sergeant M'Gee's as drunk as +anybody." +</P> + +<P> +Jane's face cleared. "Are ye sure?" she demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure! didn't ye see him walasin' round in thon tull bonnet? I heard +him sayin' they'd burn tar bar'ls the night." This relieved their +anxiety, but it could not do away with the disgrace. The children +avoided the village for weeks, and never again mentioned the Dorcas +Society. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE CRUEL HARM +</H4> + +<P> +Mick had made friends with Pat M'Garvey in the spring, when Jane and +the others had measles, and he had been sent to the Rectory to be out +of the way. The weather had been fine, and he had gone exploring +nearly every day. On one of these expeditions he had come across a +tall, red-haired boy setting potatoes in a patch of ground behind a +cottage on tfie side of the mountain. The coast road ran below, and +Mick must have passed the cottage dozens of times, but he had never +seen it before. He discovered it now only because he had been up the +mountain and had seen a thread of smoke below. Even then it had been +hard to find the cottage, hid as it was by boulders and whins. At +first Pat had not been friendly. When he straightened his long back up +from the potatoes he was bending over he had looked angrily at Mick. +But Mick had insisted on being friends, he was so lonely, and after a +bit Pat had invited him into the garden, and allowed him to help to +plant the potatoes. The next day Mick went again, and then the next. +He soon discovered that Pat was not like the boys in the village: he +knew things that Mick had never heard of, and told him stories of the +Red Branch Knights and the time when Ireland was happy. Once when Mick +tried to show off the little he knew about the Rebellion Pat took the +story out of his mouth, and got so excited that his grey-green eyes +looked as though they were on fire. He was twenty years old, and lived +alone with his old grandmother. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-133"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-133.jpg" ALT=""Michael Darragh! Is that who ye are? Mother a' God, an' yer father's gun in his han'"" BORDER="2" WIDTH="419" HEIGHT="583"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 419px"> +"Michael Darragh! Is that who ye are? <BR> +Mother a' God, an' yer father's gun in his han'" +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +The first time Mick went into the cottage a strange thing happened. +Old Mrs M'Garvey was sitting by the chimney corner, her hands stretched +out over the fire. She looked like a witch, Mick thought. Over the +chimneypiece there was a gun that took Mick's fancy. It was nearly six +feet long. Pat saw him looking at it, and took it down. He said it +had been washed ashore the time of the Spanish Armada, and had been +found in the sand. Mick took it into his hands to feel the weight. +Suddenly the old woman looked up, and asked Pat what was the young +gentleman's name. Mick answered for himself. She rose from her stool +with a screech: "Michael Darragh! Is that who ye are? Mother a' God! +an' yer father's gun in his han'." Mick turned in bewilderment to Pat, +but he was leaning against the wall, shaking all over. "In the name of +God," he was saying. Then he took the gun away, and hurried Mick out +of the cottage. "I niver knew that was who ye were," he said; "I made +sure you were wan a' the young Bogues." He told Mick not to think +about it again—the old woman was doting, and did not know what she was +saying—but he made him promise never to tell anyone what had happened, +and never let anyone know they were friends—they might both get into +trouble if it were known, he said. Soon after this Mick went back to +Rowallan, and then he was not able to see Pat so often. If the +friendship had not been a secret he could have gone, but it was hard to +get away from the others without explaining where he was going. Once +or twice through the summer he slipped away, and found Pat about the +cottage. On one of these days Pat told him he was going away to +America soon, to his father. Mick had imagined that Mr M'Garvey was +dead. He thought Pat looked very miserable. "Don't ye want to go?" he +asked. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not so much the goin' I mind as a terrible piece a' work I have +to do afore I go," he said. Then after a pause he added: "But I'll not +be goin' yet a bit; I'll wait till I bury my ould granny." +</P> + +<P> +Mick did not go back till one day in November. He could not see Pat +anywhere outside, so he knocked at the cottage door. It was opened by +Pat himself. "She's dead," he said. He came out, and they sat on the +wall. "Then ye'll be off to America," Mick said sadly—he had never +seen Pat look so thin and ill; "I'll be quare an' sorry to see ye go." +</P> + +<P> +Pat did not answer, he was looking straight out at the line of grey +sea. Mick could hear the waves beating on the rocks below. At last +Pat said: "I have that bit of a job to do before I go." Mick thought +he meant he must bury his granny. He tried to cheer him up. "Yer +father'll be brave an' glad to see ye," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"It's six years the morra since I seen him," said Pat, still looking +out to sea. +</P> + +<P> +"Six years the morra; why, that's just as long as my father's been +dead," said Mick. Pat did not answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Will ye iver come back any more?" Mick asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Niver," said Pat. "I'll bury my granny the morra, an' then—then I +start." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'll niver forget ye," said Mick. Now that it had come to +saying good-bye for ever Mick felt he could not let Pat go; it was like +parting from Jane or Patsy; he was almost crying. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye'll have no call to forget me or mine," said Pat bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, I won't," said Mick; "ye've been quare an' kind to me. I'd +like to give ye somethin' before ye go, so that ye won't forget me, but +I've nothin' but my ould watch. I wisht ye'd take it, Pat." +</P> + +<P> +Pat hid his face in his hands, then he gave a sound like a groan, and +got up, and took Mick by the shoulders. "See here," he said, "ye'll +niver forget me, an' I'll niver forget you. God forgive me, I wouldn't +hurt a hair a' yer head, an' yet I'm goin' to do ye the cruel harm. +An' it's tearin' the heart out of me to do it. Mind that. But I give +my father my word I'd do it, an' it's the right thing for-by. It's +only because it's yerself that it's killin' me." And he turned back +into the cottage, and shut the door. The whole way home Mick puzzled +over what he could have meant. +</P> + +<P> +The next day was Honeybird's birthday, and they were all to go to take +tea with Aunt Mary and Uncle Niel at the farm. This was one of their +greatest treats; but at the last minute Mick said he did not want to +go. All the morning, every time he remembered, tears kept coming into +his eyes—Pat was burying his old granny to-day, and then he was going +to leave Ireland for ever. It seemed a mean thing to go to a tea party +when your best friend was going away, and you would never see him +again. When he thought of how white and ill Pat had looked yesterday +Mick felt a lump in his throat. But Lull said he must go to the farm +whether he liked it or not, or Aunt Mary would be hurt. +</P> + +<P> +The farm was nearly a mile from Rowallan. Half the way was by the open +road, but the other half was through the loney—a muddy lane with a bad +reputation. All sorts of tales were told about it. A murderer had +been hanged, people said, on the willow-tree that grew there, and late +at night his bones could be heard still rattling in the breeze; and +<I>Things</I> that dare not go by the front road, for fear of passing the +figure of the Blessed Virgin on the convent chapel, came to and from +the mountains by this way. The convent wall, on one side, threw a +shadow on the path, making it dark even in daylight; on the other side +was a deep ditch. The children ran as fast as they could till they +came to the end of the wall, when the path turned across the open +fields to the farm. They knew no place that looked so clean and bright +as that whitewashed house on the brow of the hill. After the gloom of +the loney the low, white garden wall, the fuchsia bushes, the beds of +yellow marigolds seemed to smile at them in a glow of sunlight. Aunt +Mary was waiting at the half-door, quieting the dogs, that had been +roused from their sleep in front of the kitchen fire. Aunt Mary was a +little woman with a soft voice; she wore her hair parted down the +middle, and brushed back till it shone like silk. When she had kissed +them all she took them upstairs to her bedroom to take off their +things. Jane always said she would be feared to death to sleep in Aunt +Mary's room. The ceiling sloped down on one side, and in under it +there was a window looking across the fields to the river and the big +dark mountains beyond. To-day the window was open, and they could hear +the noise the river made as it fell at the weir. Jane listened a +minute, then turned away. "I hate it," she said; "it's like a mad, +wild woman cryin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't, Jane," Mick said sharply. That mournful sound had made him +unhappy again about Pat. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on out of that," said Patsy, "an' let's get some pears." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Mary always allowed them to play in the room where the apples and +pears were stored. Besides apples and pears there were two wooden +boxes full of clothes to dress up in—stiff, old-fashioned silks, +Indian muslins, embroidered jackets, and a pair of white kid boots. +Aunt Mary had worn these things when she was young and lived at +Rowallan, before she turned to be a Roman Catholic and was driven out +by her father. When they were tired of play they came downstairs to +the parlour. This, they thought, was the most beautiful room in the +world. There was a carpet with a wreath of roses on a grey ground, a +cupboard with diamond panes, where Aunt Mary kept her china, and the +deep window seat was filled with geraniums. Aunt Mary had a birthday +present for Honeybird; she kissed her when she gave it; and said: "God +and His Blessed Mother keep you, child." Then she cried a little, till +they all felt inclined to cry with her. But she jumped up, and said it +was time she baked the soda bread for tea. When the bread was baked +and the table laid Aunt Mary went to the half-door to look out for +Uncle Niel. +</P> + +<P> +"I always know when he's comin' by your face, Aunt Mary," Jane said. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Mary laughed. "Indeed, I'm not surprised," she said; "for I can't +remember a day when I didn't watch for his coming." +</P> + +<P> +He came soon, and they had tea, and then he told them fairy tales by +the kitchen fire. In the middle of a story Mick suddenly noticed Aunt +Mary's face as she looked up from her knitting to watch her brother. +Jane was right; her face changed when she looked at him, her eyes +seemed to shine. When he and Jane were old, and lived together as they +had planned to do, they would love each other like that. Uncle Niel +was like their father, Lull had once told them. She said there was not +a finer gentleman in Ireland, and held him up to Mick and Patsy as a +pattern of what they ought to be when they were men. Mick agreed with +her. Uncle Niel was the kindest person he knew; after being with him +Mick always felt he would like to be more polite to the others. When +he was old he would be as polite to Jane as Uncle Niel was to Aunt +Mary. On the way home it was very dark, and they all walked close to +Uncle Niel going through the loney. He laughed at them, but Jane said +she was afraid of the murderer whose bones rattled in the breeze. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the first time I've heard of him or his bones," Uncle Niel said, +"and I've been through the loney at all hours of the day and night." +</P> + +<P> +"Did ye niver hear tell of Skyan the Bugler?" said Honeybird, "for I'm +quare an' scared of him myself." +</P> + +<P> +Uncle Niel picked her up in his arms. "What would Skyan the Bugler +want with you?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, he might be after marryin' me," she said, "an' ye know I +wouldn't like that." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd rather be married that kilt," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"I think one is as bad as the other," said Uncle Niel, and he laughed +again. "But I tell you what," he added; "if I ever meet anything in +the loney worse than myself I'll come over in the morning and tell you." +</P> + +<P> +Then Patsy, who had been walking along quietly, suddenly spoke. "Uncle +Niel," he said, "who was Patrick M'Garvey?" +</P> + +<P> +Mick caught his breath. Where had Patsy heard that name? Uncle Niel +seemed to be startled too. He stopped short on the path. "Who was +telling you about him, Patsy, lad?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"It was just a man at the fair wanst. He said if Patrick M'Garvey had +waited in the loney instead of at the big gates my father would be +alive to this day. I ast him what his manin' was; but another man +tould him to hould his tongue, an' tould me not to heed him, for he had +drink on him." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, don't think about it any more, Patsy," Uncle Niel said; he was +not laughing now. "You and I have a lot to forgive when we think of +Patrick M'Garvey, but we do well to forgive, as God forgives us." +</P> + +<P> +Mick could not go to sleep that night thinking of what Uncle Niel and +Patsy had said. It was a wet night, and the rain beat against the +windows. After a bit Jane came into his room from the nursery; she +could not sleep either, and she thought she had heard the banshee +crying. But there was no sound except the pelting of heavy rain when +they listened. Mick made her crawl into his bed, and then they must +have fallen asleep. They were waked by the sound of voices downstairs. +The rain was over, but the wind was up, and the voices seemed to die +away and rise again every time there was a lull in the storm. They +both got up, and dressed hurriedly, without waking the others. +Something must have happened, they thought, and on such a dismal +morning it could only be something bad. All the village was gathered +in the kitchen when they got downstairs. Some of the women were +crying, and there was a scared look on the men's faces. Mick and Jane +were sure their mother must be dead. But no one took any notice of +them, and they could not see Lull anywhere. +</P> + +<P> +"The dog was howlin' at half-past eleven," Mick heard a man say, "an' +the dour was locked and boulted when the polis tuk the body home." +</P> + +<P> +Then the back door opened, and Father Ryan, the parish priest, came in. +</P> + +<P> +"Go home, every one of you," he said; "talkin' won't give the man his +life back." +</P> + +<P> +The kitchen was soon cleared. Mick saw Lull sitting by the table, her +head on her hands. Father Ryan put his hand on her shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"I've lost my best friend, Lull," he said. Lull looked up; Mick hardly +knew her face, it was so small and old. +</P> + +<P> +"God help us, Father," she said, and then began to cry wildly. "Miss +Mary, poor Miss Mary; it'll be the death of her." +</P> + +<P> +"You are right, Lull," Father Ryan said; "she'll never get over it. +I've just come from her. It will just be the mistress over again—— +What are the children doing here?" he added quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"God forgive me, I niver seen them to this minute," said Lull. +</P> + +<P> +Father Ryan called them over to him. "Do you know what's come to you?" +he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Somebody's dead," Mick answered. +</P> + +<P> +"It's your Uncle Niel," Father Ryan said; "he was killed in the loney +last night." +</P> + +<P> +Father Ryan did not stay long. When he had gone Andy came in. Mick +was crouching by the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you call to mind what day it was, Lull?" Andy said in a whisper +Mick heard. +</P> + +<P> +"I do, well," said Lull; "six years to the very day. God's curse on +him," she added in a strange, harsh voice; "couldn't he be content with +murderin' the wan, an' not hape sorra on us like this?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's safe in America," said Andy, "that's the divilment of him; but +them that's got childer has got the long arm. I'll hould ye he's niver +let the boy forget. The ould mother was buried yesterday, an' the boy +must 'a' been waitin' for that till he done it." +</P> + +<P> +Mick heard no more; he slipped out down the passage to the schoolroom. +He had forgotten all about Pat, but now he remembered, with a terror +that overwhelmed him. For a moment he wondered if he were really +himself. It could not be true that Uncle Niel was dead, and he, +Michael Darragh, knew—knew what? He could not bear the thought. But +it was all spread out plain before his eyes. Pat M'Garvey, his friend, +whom he loved so much, had murdered Uncle Niel. He shut his eyes, and +drew in his breath. "I'm goin' to do ye the cruel harm"—he could see +Pat's face as he said it, so thin and miserable. Why, why had he done +it? Uncle Niel was so good, and Pat was so good too, but now one was +dead and the other was a murderer. Quick before his eyes horrid +pictures rose up—Uncle Niel lying dead, and Pat, with blood on his +hands, caught by the police; Pat going to gaol on a car, handcuffed, +between two policemen, his white face—— "He didn't mane it," Mick +burst out passionately. "Oh, God, I just can't bear it." Then another +thought came. He himself would be brought up to give evidence. Pat +had told him he was going to do it, and now on his word Pat would be +hanged. What had happened that the whole world had turned against him +like this? +</P> + +<P> +The next minute he was off, across the wet lawn, over the road, running +for his life, not on the road, in case he was seen, but on the other +side of the stone wall. It was not daylight yet, but dawn was +struggling through the clouds. When he came to the village he skirted +it by climbing over the rocks, then on as fast as he could go, on the +coast road now it was safe—he would meet no one there—then up along +the little path that wound through dead whins and boulders, up to the +cottage, where the rain was dripping from the thatch. Mick never +stopped till he was at the door. There was no answer to his knock. +"Pat," he whispered, "let me in." Still there was no answer. He +looked in at the window: the fire was out, and the place looked +deserted. "He's away," he muttered. But just then the door opened. +"Is that you?" said Pat's voice. "Come in." Mick went in, and shut +the door behind him. +</P> + +<P> +"Pat," he said, "ye must be off at wanst—quick, quick—or they'll +catch ye." +</P> + +<P> +"Who tould ye?" said Pat. +</P> + +<P> +"Nobuddy tould me. They said he was in America an' the ould mother was +buried yesterday. But ye must be goin' this minute." +</P> + +<P> +"Hould on a minute," said Pat; "do ye know what ye're sayin', do ye +know what I've done at all?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do," said Mick; "ye mur—— Ye tould me yerself ye were goin' to do +me the cruel harm." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that all ye know?" said Pat—"then ye know nothin'. Do ye see that +gun there?" Mick saw it was still hanging over the chimneypiece. +"Well, it was that gun shot your father. Do ye see what I mane?" +</P> + +<P> +Mick stared at him in a dazed way. "My father?" he repeated. +</P> + +<P> +"Your father," said Pat; "an' it was my father murdered him." +</P> + +<P> +Mick was too dazed to take it in. All he could think of, all he could +see, was that thin white face before his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Do ye think ye'll get safe to America?" he said huskily. +</P> + +<P> +"My God, are ye a chile at all?" said Pat. He gave a big sob, that +made Mick jump, and then began to cry and shake all over. "What did I +do it for at all at all?" he wailed. +</P> + +<P> +Mick put his arm round him. "Whist, Pat, whist, man; ye must be off, +now, at wanst." +</P> + +<P> +Pat stopped crying. "I'm not goin'," he said. "I done what he bid me, +an' now I'll give myself up, an' let them hang me: it's what I disarve." +</P> + +<P> +"Listen a bit, Pat," said Mick. "Ye didn't mane it, I know that. It's +not you but yer ould father that ought to be hanged——" He stopped, +something came back to his mind as though out of a far-off past; but it +was only last night Uncle Niel had said: "We do well to forgive him, as +God forgives us." "Pat," he cried, "Uncle Niel said we were to forgive +your father!" Quickly he told the whole story—what Patsy had said, +what Uncle Niel had answered, with such a sense of relief as he told it +that he felt almost glad. "An' I know he would forgive you for +murderin' him, Pat, this very minute, if he could spake." Pat did not +answer. "An' if ye don't go they'll make me give evidence, an' ye +wouldn't have me an informer, would ye?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go," said Pat. +</P> + +<P> +No one had missed Mick when he got home. Their mother was ill, and the +doctor had come. Lull was with her, and Teressa had come to do the +work. After dinner Teressa came into the schoolroom. She said she was +afraid to be by herself in the big kitchen. Jane questioned her about +Uncle Niel, and she told them that one of the men had found the dead +body in the loney late at night as he was coming back from Newry with +one of the horses. The horse had stopped half way down the loney, and +when the man looked round for a bit of a stick to beat him with he saw +the body lying on its face in the ditch. "But the quare thing," +Teressa said, "is that yer Aunt Mary houlds to it that he come in after +seein' yez all home last night. She let him in, and boulted the dour +after him, but when they took the corpse home the dour was still +boulted, an' his bed had never been slep' in." Here Lull came into the +schoolroom, and was cross with Teressa. "Have ye no wit, woman," she +said, "sittin' there like an ould witch tellin' the childer a lock a' +lies?" +</P> + +<P> +The day of the funeral Mick stood at the schoolroom window in his new +black coat watching the rain beating against the panes. The burden of +the secret he carried weighed him down. He must have been changed into +another person, he thought, since Honeybird's birthday. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder why it always rains when people die?" said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't die, he was murdered," said Jane bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +Mick shivered; he felt like an accomplice. All night he had been +thinking of the funeral. Lull had told him yesterday he must go to be +chief mourner. But had he any right to be a mourner? What would the +people think—what would Father Ryan say—if they knew that he had +helped his uncle's murderer to escape? +</P> + +<P> +"I wisht I could go with ye, Mick," said Jane at his elbow. "I ast +Lull, but she said ladies niver went to feenerals." +</P> + +<P> +Mick turned round. "I'm all right, Janie," he said. But Janie's +kindness seemed to hurt him more: what would she say if she knew? +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't it be awful nice if ye woke up this minute an' it wasn't real +at all, an' we'd only dreamt it?" said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"Nip me as hard as ye can," said Jane. Fly nipped her arm. "Ye +needn't nip so hard—it's true enough." +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if God could make it not true?" said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"He couldn't," said Mick, "for I'd niver, niver forget it." +</P> + +<P> +"Andy's ready waitin' for ye, Mick," said Lull at the door. +</P> + +<P> +When they came home from the funeral Mick was ill, and had to be put to +bed. Jane came up to his room, and sat with him. "Do ye mind what +Uncle Niel said to us in the loney?" she said. "Well, he couldn't come +as far as this to tell us, so he went an' tould Aunt Mary; Teressa says +it was his ghost come back to her." +</P> + +<P> +"To tell us what?" said Mick feverishly. +</P> + +<P> +"That it was wan of them <I>Things</I> done it." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought ye meant about forgivin'," said Mick. "Mebby it was that; +don't ye think it might 'a' been, Janie?" His voice was very eager. +</P> + +<P> +"I niver thought a' that," said Jane; "but Uncle Niel was quare an' +good. I believe he'd even forgive a buddy for murderin' him." +</P> + +<P> +Mick lay down with a sigh of relief. "I thought that myself," he said. +</P> + +<P> +It was not till the primroses were out that the children went to the +farm again. Half way down the loney there was a rough cross scratched +on a stone in the wall, and the words: Niel Darragh. R.I.P. Aunt Mary +had been ill all winter, and at first they did not know her, for her +hair was quite white. But nothing else was changed. The parlour +looked brighter than ever; there was a bowl of primroses on the table. +Through the window you could see the big cherry-trees in the orchard +white with blossom. Upstairs the sun streamed into Aunt Mary's +bedroom, and the river sounded quite cheerful across the fields as it +raced along over the weir. When Aunt Mary had baked the soda bread for +tea she went to the half-door, and looked out across the fields. "I +thought I saw Niel coming," she said; "it is about time he was home." +Then she turned back to the children, and welcomed them, as though she +saw them now for the first time. On the way back they asked each other +in whispers what could be the matter with her, but Mick walked on +ahead, and said not a word. At the end of the loney they met Father +Ryan. +</P> + +<P> +"I was just coming to see you," he said. "It's you, Michael, I was +wanting. I've got a blue pigeon for you, if you'll walk the length of +the village with me." +</P> + +<P> +Mick turned back with him. It was a lovely evening; the air was full +of the smell of spring. They walked along silently. At their feet +were tufts of primroses and dog-violets growing under the shelter of +the stone wall. A chestnut-tree in the convent garden hung a green +branch over the road. Before them, on one side, the sea lay like a +silver mist; on the other the mountains, so ethereal that they looked +as though at any moment they might melt away into the blue of the sky. +But Mick had no heart for these things. Even when he heard the cuckoo +across the fields, for the first time that year, it was with no +answering thrill, but only with a dull sense that he had grown too old +now to care—seeing Aunt Mary had brought back all the trouble he had +tried so hard to forget. +</P> + +<P> +When they got to Father Ryan's house they went straight into the +parlour. "Mick," said Father Ryan, sitting down in his chair, "what +ails you, child, this long time back?" Mick looked into his face. +"It's all right," said Father Ryan; "you can tell me nothing I don't +know. I had a letter from him this morning, poor boy." +</P> + +<P> +"Is he all right?" said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"He's all right; that's what I wanted to tell you. But yourself, Mick, +what ails you?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothin' ails me," said Mick; "I've just got ould." +</P> + +<P> +"Whist, boy, at your time of life," said Father Ryan. +</P> + +<P> +"What did he do it for?" said Mike sharply. "Ye've seen her, Father; +it's made her go mad." He began to cry. +</P> + +<P> +"There, there, child," said Father Ryan. "It's more than you or me can +say what it was done for. A better boy than Pat never lived, but the +father had a bad hold on him." +</P> + +<P> +"I sometimes think I done it myself," said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"You did it?" said Father Ryan. "Faith, child, you did a thing God +Himself would have done." +</P> + +<P> +When Mick said good-bye to Father Ryan about half-an-hour later, and +was starting out, with the pigeon buttoned up inside his coat, he found +Jane sitting on a stone at the presbytery gate waiting for him. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye're the good ould sowl," he said, and he took her hand. "Come on, +let's run home; I'm quare an' happy." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A CHIEF MOURNER +</H4> + +<P> +Some time after the death of Uncle Niel, Patsy's ways began to puzzle +the others. Until then they had always been quite open with each other +about their comings and goings, but Patsy took to disappearing for a +whole day at a time, giving no reason when he came home at night for +his long absence. Mick and Jane asked him one day where he went so +often by himself, but his answer only made them more curious. "If I +telled ye," he said, "ye'd all come, an' that'd spoil it." +</P> + +<P> +About a week after this Lull took them into town, eight miles away, on +a shopping expedition. Jane and Patsy were on one side of the car. +Jane noticed that several people they met, and they were people she did +not know, touched their hats to Patsy, and Patsy pulled off his cap +each time, but said nothing. At last, while they were waiting outside +a shop for Lull, a tall man came down the street. As he passed the car +he started, looked at Patsy, and then with a bow took off his hat, and +walked on. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's that, Patsy?" Jane asked. +</P> + +<P> +"He's just a man I'm acquainted with," Patsy answered, and would say no +more. +</P> + +<P> +A few days later something happened that made Jane still more +suspicious. They were having dinner, when Lull said: "Which of ye has +touched Mick's black coat and hat?" +</P> + +<P> +They all denied having seen them since the day of the funeral, except +Patsy, who did not speak. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, that's the quare thing," said Lull, "for I've hunted the length +and breadth of the house, an' can't lay my han' on them at all." +</P> + +<P> +Again they declared they had not seen them. This time Patsy spoke with +the others, but Jane noticed that he put his hand on the back of a +chair as he spoke. After dinner she told Mick. "It was Patsy tuk yer +black coat an' hat," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"An' how do ye know that?" Mick asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't I see him touch wood when he said he niver seen it?" she said. +"I wonder what he's done with it, though," she added. The more she +thought about it the more bewildered she grew. But of one thing she +was sure: that if she could find out where he went, and what he did on +those long days away from home, she would have a key to the other +mystery. So she set herself to find out. The only thing to do was to +follow him some day; but Patsy seemed to know what was in her mind, for +he guarded his departures so carefully that each time it was not until +he had got a good start of her that she discovered he was gone. +</P> + +<P> +One morning at breakfast Jane saw by the look on Patsy's face that he +meant to be off that day, and she made up her mind that this time he +should not slip through her fingers. +</P> + +<P> +Patsy got up from the table with a yawn. "Who's seen the wee babby +rabbits?" he said. No one had. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, first there gets the pick," he said, and they flew to the +hutches. But when they got there no baby rabbits were to be seen, and, +in a fury of disappointment, Jane realised that Patsy had got the +better of her again. She was so angry that she slapped Fly and +Honeybird for daring to laugh at the joke, and their cries brought Lull +out into the yard. Lull dried their tears on her apron, scolding and +comforting at the same time. +</P> + +<P> +"There now, ye're not kilt," she said. "Shame on ye, Jane, to lift yer +han' again them. If ye lay finger on them more I'll tell yer mother." +This was always Lull's threat, and though she never kept her word it +never failed to have the same effect on the children. The thought of +making their mother unhappy was the most dreadful punishment they could +imagine. Jane walked out of the yard with her nose in the air and a +miserable feeling in her heart. But, once out of sight, she ran to her +favourite hiding-place among the sallies at the top of the garden, and +sitting down with her back to the convent wall she cried with +disappointment, and with repentance too. It was wicked to have slapped +Fly and Honeybird, but they had no business to laugh at her; and that +little brute of a Patsy was off again all by himself, and she didn't +know where he was. By-and-by she heard Mick calling her. She knew he +would be sure to look in the sallies for her, so she dried her eyes, +and crept along by the wall, and under the fence at the top of the +garden, out into the field. No good could come of letting Mick find +her; for she was still in a bad temper, and she knew it would only mean +more fights if she went home before her temper had gone. She wandered +through the fields in an aimless way, till she began to get bored, and +not any better tempered for that. +</P> + +<P> +It was all Patsy's fault; if he had not put her in a temper she might +have been working at the pigeon-house with Mick; but now the whole day +was spoilt, for she could not, with dignity, go home before tea-time. +Soon she found herself in a lane, and had to stop to choose which way +she would go. +</P> + +<P> +One way led to the village and the sea, the other to the big road that +ran to Castle Magee and town. It was too cold to go to the sea, and +she didn't want to go through the village with red eyes. Then the +thought came into her mind that the snowdrops might be out in the +church-yard at Castle Magee, so she turned that way. +</P> + +<P> +Castle Magee was a village of about six cottages and as many bigger +houses; a damp, mouldy place, that always impressed the children with a +sense of hunger and death. They rarely saw anyone about but the +sexton, and he seemed to be perpetually at work digging graves in the +churchyard. Then, too, there was no shop, and they had no friends in +the village, and after the long walk from home all that could be hoped +for was a turnip out of the fields. The church, surrounded by +yew-trees, stood in the middle of the village. The whitewashed walls +of the Parsonage blinked through an avenue of the same trees. Lull +said the church was a Presbyterian meeting-house, and on Sundays people +came from miles round, and sang psalms without any tunes, and the +minister preached a sermon two hours long, and then everybody ate +sandwiches in their pews, and the minister preached another sermon two +hours longer. +</P> + +<P> +The children had often climbed up, and looked in at the church windows, +and the cold, bare inside and the square boxes for pews had added to +their dreary impressions of the place. +</P> + +<P> +If it had not been for the snowdrops they would never have gone near +Castle Magee; but at the right time of year the churchyard was a white +drift of these flowers, and the sexton had often given them leave to +pick as many as they pleased. With a big bunch of snowdrops Jane felt +she could go straight home. Dinner would be over, of course, by that +time, but there would still be the afternoon to give to the new +pigeon-house. And how pleased her mother would be with the flowers. +All Jane's bad temper disappeared at the thought, and she would tie up +two little bunches with ivy leaves at the back for Fly and Honeybird. +She skipped along the road, making up romances to herself to while away +the three long miles. She was going to a ball in a blue satin dress +trimmed with pearls; then it was a dinner, and she wore black velvet +and diamonds; then a meet, and she had a green velvet habit, like the +picture of Miss Flora Macdonald Lull had nailed on the kitchen wall. +</P> + +<P> +Soon she got tired of these thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, I won't wear any of them things," she muttered; "everybody +wears them. I'll just go in my bare skin an' a pair of Lull's ould +boots." She laughed, and began to run. As she got near the village +the old feeling of hunger, native to the place, reminded her that +turnips would now be stacked behind the Parsonage, and she remembered +that it would be best to look for an open heap, for the last time she +and Mick had broken into one they found they had opened a potato heap +by mistake. She laughed as she thought of how cross the old farmer had +been when he had caught them filling up the hole again. Luckily, the +first heap she came to was open, so, picking out a good big turnip, she +went on till she came to the churchyard wall, and sat down there to eat +it. The village looked more desolate than usual. The slate roofs of +the cottages were still wet with the rain that had fallen in the night, +and a cold wind moaned in the yew-trees. There were only a few +snowdrops out, and for once the sexton was not to be seen, but a heap +of earth at the far corner of the churchyard showed a newly-dug grave. +Jane had got through her first slice of turnip when she was startled by +the sound of the bell in the church behind her. +</P> + +<P> +One! It went with a harsh clang. +</P> + +<P> +She looked round, but the bell had stopped. She was beginning to think +she had imagined it when the bell clanged again. Then another moment's +pause and another clang. Jane thought she had never heard anything so +queer, when she suddenly remembered what it was. Of course, it was +tolling for a funeral. It had tolled three already. Lull said it +tolled one for every year of the dead person's life. +</P> + +<P> +Four—five—six—went the bell. +</P> + +<P> +"That might be our wee Honeybird," Jane said to herself, and remembered +the slap she had given Honeybird that morning. +</P> + +<P> +Seven—eight. +</P> + +<P> +The sound grew more and more melancholy to her ears. Each clang of the +bell died away like a moan. +</P> + +<P> +Nine. +</P> + +<P> +"Mebby it's some person's only child," she thought. +</P> + +<P> +Ten—eleven. +</P> + +<P> +"It'd be the awful thing to be dead," she muttered, and shivered at the +thought of being buried this weather with nothing on but a white +nightgown. +</P> + +<P> +Twelve—thirteen—tolled the bell. +</P> + +<P> +"It'd be awfuller to be goin' to Mick's feeneral," she said. The +thought made her heart sick. +</P> + +<P> +She jumped up to go home—she could come back when more snowdrops were +out—but she caught sight of a long black line, slowly climbing up to +the church by the road from town. The sight of a funeral always +depressed Jane, but there was something specially gloomy about this +one. The wet road looked so cold, the sky so grey, and the black +hearse and six mourning carriages came heavily along, as though they +were weighed down by grief. +</P> + +<P> +Jane began to say her prayers. It was an awful world God had made, and +He might let one of them die if she didn't pray hard to Him. +</P> + +<P> +The bell went on tolling. It had got past twenty by the time her +prayer was said. The funeral was so near that she could see the +mourners behind the hearse. There were six tall men in black; two of +them walked in front of the others. They were the chief mourners. +Perhaps it was their sister who was in the hearse. The bell tolled oft +till it was past thirty; the funeral came nearer and nearer. +</P> + +<P> +Then all at once Jane's heart went cold with pity, for between the two +chief mourners she saw a little boy. It was the little boy's mother in +the hearse, of course, and one of the men was his father. Tears rolled +down her face at the sight of him. He was such a little boy, in a +black coat that was miles too big for him, and his head bent like his +father's. This was too much for Jane's feelings; she rolled over the +wall, hid her face behind a tombstone, and cried bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +The bell went on tolling. The wind soughed in the yew-trees. The +funeral procession came into the churchyard, the tall men carrying the +coffin, and the chief mourners walking behind. The little boy walked +beside his father. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor, poor wee sowl," Jane sobbed. "God pity it—it might 'a' been +our wee Patsy!—Ye young divil!" she added through her teeth—for it +was Patsy. Sure enough, there he was in Mick's black coat and hat, +walking solemnly behind the coffin, holding that strange man's hat. +</P> + +<P> +"So I've catched ye, my boy," she muttered, hiding down behind the +tombstone. She could watch without being seen, by lying flat on her +stomach, and she determined to see the end of it now. The burial +service began. She could hear voices, but could see nothing for the +crowd round the grave. Then the crowd parted, and she saw the coffin +lowered. The tall man began to sob. Patsy respectfully held the man's +hat and gloves while he cried into a big black-bordered +pocket-handkerchief. At last it was over, and they came back along the +path. As they passed by the tombstone where Jane lay she heard Patsy +say: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I must be goin', so I'll be sayin' good-mornin' to ye, sir." +</P> + +<P> +A man's voice answered. "Ye're the remains a' them as is in their +graves, sir. Good-morning to ye, sir." +</P> + +<P> +When they had all passed she crept along behind the tombstone to the +far wall, and jumped over it into the field. Then she ran as fast as +she could to the road, climbed up the bank, and sat down behind the +hedge to wait for Patsy. He came soon, whistling, with the skirts of +Mick's coat tucked up under his arm. Jane waited till he came quite +near, then she jumped over the hedge, and stood in front of him. +</P> + +<P> +"Think I didn't see ye," he said; "jukin' down behind a tombstone with +yer flat ould face? Ye very near made me laugh." +</P> + +<P> +"What were ye doin', Patsy?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, I was a mourner at the woman's feeneral, an' a very dacent +woman she was by all accounts." +</P> + +<P> +Jane forgot to crow over him in her interest. "What'd she die of, +Patsy?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +Patsy stopped. "Ye know that wee public-house as ye go into town, just +as ye turn down North Street?" he said. Jane nodded. "She kep' that, +the man tould me, an' she died a' hard work.' +</P> + +<P> +"I niver heerd of any person dyin' of that afore," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, she did," said Patsy, "for I heard the sexton ast the man, an' +he said she died a' labour." +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if it's catchin'?" said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +Patsy walked on whistling. +</P> + +<P> +"But what tuk ye to the woman's feeneral at all, Patsy?" Jane asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I just went for the fun a' the thing," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, there's no fun in that," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't there just?" said Patsy. "That's all you know; I tell ye it's +the quare ould sport." He stopped, and counted up on his fingers: +"That makes two weman's, two childers', and one man's feeneral I've +been chief mourner to since Christmas." +</P> + +<P> +"But ye can't be chief mourner if ye're no relation," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye can just. I walked close behind the hearse of every one of them," +he said. "When I see the feeneral comin' up the road I take off my +hat, an' they make room for me to walk with the best." +</P> + +<P> +He bound Jane over by a promise not to tell. In return for her promise +he showed her where he kept Mick's coat and hat—wrapped up in a +newspaper, and covered with sods, under an old bell-glass at the top of +the garden—and promised, on his part, he would tell her what the +people died of whose funerals he attended in the future. +</P> + +<P> +But, as it happened, that was the last one he went to. When they got +home they found the secret was out. Mick met them. He knew all about +it, he said; and Lull knew too, and was cross. Teressa had told. Her +sister, who was in service at the Parsonage at Castle Magee, had been +to see her, and told her all about the little gentleman from Rowallan +who came to every funeral in the churchyard. +</P> + +<P> +"She sez," Mick went on, "that ye were the thoughtful wee man, Patsy, +an' it'd melt the heart of a stone to see ye standin' at the grave like +an' ould judge, holdin' the mourner's black kid gloves." +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +But Lull threatened awful things if Patsy ever went to a funeral again. +"Mind, I'll tell yer mother if I ever hear tell of it," she said; "dear +knows what disease ye'll be bringin' home to us." +</P> + +<P> +The lesson was impressed more deeply on Patsy's mind by Lull being ill +that evening, and going to bed early with a headache. Patsy was +terrified. He sat on the mat outside the door till past ten, and +refused to go to bed. +</P> + +<P> +"She's just the very ould one would catch it," he said when Jane tried +to persuade him to go to bed, "for she works that hard herself." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'll go in an' ast her if it's catchin'," Jane said at last. +</P> + +<P> +Lull was awake when they went in. "What's the matter?" she said, +sitting up in bed. +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothin' the matter," said Jane; "only Patsy wants to know if +what the woman died of was catchin'." +</P> + +<P> +"What did she die of?" said Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"She died a' labour," said Patsy in a trembling voice. "Is it +catchin', Lull?" +</P> + +<P> +Lull laughed so much that she could not answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Patsy was afraid ye'd catched it," said Jane, laughing too, though she +did not know why. +</P> + +<P> +"God be thankit I have not," said Lull, and as they went joyfully off +to bed they could hear her still laughing. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A SAFEGUARD FOR HAPPINESS +</H4> + +<P> +May was at its height; all the apple-trees were in blossom, and the +crimson thorn-trees on the lawn. Through the open nursery windows a +soft wind brought the smell of hawthorn and lush green grass. Bright +patches of sunlight spotted the bare floor and Jane's red and white +quilt. It was early, and the children were still in bed. They were +wide awake—the sun had waked them an hour ago—and already they had +planned how they would spend the day. It was Saturday—a whole +holiday. Nobody had to do lessons to-day; the long, rich sunny hours +lay before them full of happiness. They had agreed that the rocks was +the place for to-day's picnic; no place would be half so beautiful. +This was the weather for the sea. As they lay quiet in bed each one +was thinking of the joys in store. First, there would be the walk +across the soft, spongy grass—past the whins for the sake of the hot, +sunny smell of the blossom. They would be tempted to stop and have the +picnic there; but they would go on, towards the sea, and the sheep +would move off as they came near, and rakish black crows would rise +slowly, and sail away. Then the sea would come in sight: so blue this +weather, how deep and full it looked, with what a soft splash it washed +against the black rocks, and how it stung your naked body as you slid +in for one dip and out again. Fly loved to look forward, as she called +it. Pleasures were worth twice as much to her if she were able to +think of them beforehand. Then there would be the long afternoon, when +you lay on your face on the rocks, and watched the ships sailing far +away, and now and then caught sight of a trail of smoke on the horizon, +that told you a steamer was passing by. A sound of singing came from +the convent garden, and in a moment all the five children were out of +bed, leaning out of the window, watching the long procession of white +nuns file slowly out of the convent door. The voices, low at first, +grew stronger and clearer as the procession came along the cindered +path. The nuns' white dresses, the black path they walked on, the +delicate green of the apple-trees on each side, the blue of the banner, +the shining gold of the cross, make a wonderful picture in the strong +sunlight. The children watched in silence. This singing procession of +white and blue was one of the things they liked best in May. It came +every fine morning to remind them how happy they were now that the good +weather had come. Lull said the nuns sang because May was the month of +Mary. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Ave Maris Stella<BR> +Dei Mater Alma!"<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +They were singing hymns to the Blessed Virgin now; their voices, very +sweet and clear, seemed to fill the garden. They went on along the +path, paused by a black cross that marked a grave, then went round the +chapel, and the children could see them no longer. They listened till +the singing died away, and then began to dress quickly. Fly was always +last. The others teased her about it, but they could not make her +hurry. Fly had a reason for being slow. She liked to say her prayers +last. If she had been dressed sooner she would have had to say her +prayers at the same time as the others, and then, she thought, Almighty +God could not give her His undivided attention. Fly said her prayers +very carefully; sometimes when she had said them once she went all +through them again, in case she had forgotten anything. When the +others had gone downstairs she knelt down by her cot. She said her +proper prayers first, then added: "And, please, don't let any of us +have anythin' the matter with our heart our liver our lungs, or any +part of our insides that I don't know the name of; please don't let any +of us kill or murder anybuddy, or be hanged or beheaded; an', please, +remember that it's ould Mrs Bogue's turn to die first." +</P> + +<P> +She rose from her knees, and ran downstairs. The hall door was open, +and the sunlight streamed into the hall. There was really no need to +say your prayers at all this weather, Fly thought; for, of course, +nobody ever died except in winter, when the wind howled round the house +and rain lashed the window-panes. Still, she liked to be on the safe +side. She was very proud of her prayer: the last petition she had +thought of in the winter, when Mrs Darragh had been ill. She had +reminded Almighty God that they had had a father and an uncle die, +while the Bogues had never had a death in their family. Therefore it +must be Mrs Bogue's turn next. Honeybird, the only one to whom she had +told this petition, was so pleased with it that she prayed it too. +Both children chuckled over the wisdom of it; for Mrs Bogue, in spite +of her eighty years, was a strong old woman—Lull had said she would +see ninety—so their turn could not come for years yet. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the awful thing that people has to die at all." Jane's voice +came from the schoolroom. "An it's quare that God thinks anybuddy'd +like to go to heaven." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I niver want to go," said Patsy. "I'd hate the ould gold street +an' glass sea; I'd far rather have a nice salt-water sea, with crabs +an' herrin's in it." +</P> + +<P> +Fly stood in the doorway. "What's happened?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Ould Mrs Bogue's dead," said Jane, with her mouth full of porridge. A +sharp pang of fear seized Fly. A moment before she had been altogether +happy, now the light seemed to have gone from the day. She looked at +Honeybird, but Honeybird was taking her breakfast calmly; she did not +realise what this meant. Their safeguard was gone. If Mrs Bogue had +died so suddenly and unexpectedly might it not mean that Almighty God +wanted their turn to come quickly? She swallowed her breakfast, and +went out into the garden. She could not go to the picnic with the +others; she was too miserable for that. Why, oh, why did God make +people only to kill them again? Why did He want them to go to such a +dull place as heaven? Honeybird's voice called her from the garden +gate, and the next minute Honeybird came running down the grassy path. +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't ye go for the picnic?" Fly asked. +</P> + +<P> +"'Cause I know'd ye'd be sorry about ould Mrs Bogue," said Honeybird, +sitting down beside her. "I'm thinkin' mebby Mrs Bogue wasn't as +strong as we thinked. It might 'a' been better to say Mr Rannigan." +</P> + +<P> +"That wouldn't 'a' been fair," said Fly; "he had a sister die. It was +ould Mrs Bogue's turn right enough, only it come far sooner that I +thought." +</P> + +<P> +"What are ye goin' to do?" Honeybird asked. +</P> + +<P> +Fly could think of nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't ye pray to have ould Mrs Bogue alive again?" said Honeybird. +</P> + +<P> +"That's no use wanst people's dead," said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"But couldn't God make her niver 'a' been dead at all?" Honeybird +asked. "I'd try Him if I was you." +</P> + +<P> +Fly thought for a moment. "We'll both pray hard, and then we'll go an' +see." They knelt down under an apple-tree. Honeybird prayed first, +and then Fly. Then they started for Mrs Bogue's house. Honeybird +would have liked Fly to tell her a story as they went along the road, +but she dare not ask, for she could tell by Fly's face that she was +still praying. +</P> + +<P> +The road was hot and dusty. Both the children were soon tired. +Honeybird thought of the others enjoying themselves on the rocks. She +wished she could have gone with them. She would have enjoyed it too, +for though she pretended to Fly that she was anxious, she really was +not troubled at all. She did not believe that Almighty God wanted one +of them to die. Lull said their mother had not been so well for years. +But she had shared Fly's prayers, and a sense of honour made her try to +share Fly's trouble now that the prayer had gone wrong. Fly was still +muttering. Every now and then Honeybird could hear: "For Christ's +sake. Amen." +</P> + +<P> +When they came to Mrs Bogue's gate Fly said they were to say a last +prayer each, and then ask at the lodge. They shut their eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Make her alive an' well, Almighty God. Amen," said Honeybird. +</P> + +<P> +They opened their eyes, and went up to the lodge, but while they were +still knocking at the door Mrs Bogue's big yellow carriage came round +the corner of the avenue. Inside the carriage was the old lady +herself. Fly gave a howl of delight. The children ran forward, and +the carriage pulled up. +</P> + +<P> +"There ye are alive an' well," said Fly joyfully. "Och, but I'm glad +to see ye." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Bogue's wizened face expressed no pleasure at seeing Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I'm well; I always am," she said in a thin, high voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye were dead this mornin', though," said Honeybird. +</P> + +<P> +"Dead! who said I was dead?" Mrs Bogue demanded indignantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Lull tould us that iverybuddy said ye died last night," said Fly; she +was still smiling with delight. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs Bogue turned to her niece. "Do you hear that, Maria? That is +twice they have had me dead. I don't know what the world is coming to. +They won't give people time to die nowadays." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll give ye any amount a' time, Mrs Bogue," said Fly earnestly; "we +want ye to live as long as iver ye can please." +</P> + +<P> +"It's quare an' nice for us when ye're alive," said Honeybird. Mrs +Bogue looked at them sharply. Both faces were beaming with happiness. +</P> + +<P> +"You are very kind children," she said. She began to fumble in a bag +by her side. "Here is a shilling each for you." +</P> + +<P> +The yellow carriage went on. Fly and Honeybird looked at each other. +Honeybird was thinking how glad she was that she had stayed with Fly +and had not gone off with the others. Fly was thinking how good +Almighty God had been to hear her prayer. They went on down the road +to Johnnie M'Causland's shop, and bought lemonade and sweets, and then +struck out across the fields towards the sea to find the others. +</P> + +<P> +"Do ye know what?" said Fly, stopping in the middle of a field, with +her arms full of lemonade bottles. "Ye're always far happier after +ye're miserable. I believe He done it on purpose." She kicked up her +heels. "Let's run; it's a quare good ould world, an' God's a quare +good ould God, an' I'm awful happy." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +JIMMIE BURKE'S WEDDING +</H4> + +<P> +Jimmie Burke's wife had not been dead a month, when one morning Teressa +brought the news that he was going to be married again. +</P> + +<P> +"The haythen ould Mormon!" said Lull. "God help the wemen these days." +</P> + +<P> +At first the children could not believe it. The late Mrs Burke had +been a friend of theirs. They had walked to the village every Sunday +afternoon, for the whole long year that she had been ill, with pudding +and eggs for her. And they thought Jimmie was so fond of her. He was +heartbroken when she died. When they went to the cottage the day +before the funeral, with a wreath of ivy leaves to put on the coffin, +they found him sitting beside the corpse, crying, and wiping his eyes +on a bit of newspaper. Even Jane, who, for some reason that she had +not given the others, had always hated Jimmie, told Lull when they came +home that she could not help thinking a pity of the man sitting there +crying like a child. +</P> + +<P> +"It bates Banagher," said Teressa, sitting down by the fire with the +cup of tea Lull had given her—"an' the woman not cowld in her coffin +yet; sure, it's enough to make the dead walk." +</P> + +<P> +"Och, but the poor critter was glad to rest," said Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"An', mind ye, he's the impitent ould skut," Teressa went on, stirring +her tea with her finger; "he come an' tould me last night himself. An' +sez he: 'The wife she left me under no obligations,' sez he; 'but sorra +a woman is there about the place I'd luk at,' sez he." +</P> + +<P> +"They'd be wantin' a man that tuk him," said Lull. "The first wife's +well red a' him in glory." +</P> + +<P> +"When's the weddin', Teressa?" Fly asked. +</P> + +<P> +"An' who's marryin' him?" said Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"He's away this mornin' to be marriet. She's a lump of a girl up in +Ballynahinch," said Teressa. "Troth, ay, he lost no time; he's +bringing her home the night, the neighbours say." +</P> + +<P> +In the stable Andy Graham was even more indignant. "It's the +ondacentest thing I iver heard tell of," he told Mick; "an' the woman +be to be as ondacent as himself." +</P> + +<P> +But Andy's, indignation was nothing to what Jane felt. "I knowed it," +she said to the others when they were together in the schoolroom; "I +knowed the ould boy was the bad ould baste. Augh! he oughtn't to be +let live." +</P> + +<P> +"Away ar that, Jane," said Patsy; "sure, that's the fool talk. Where's +the harm in him marryin' again?" +</P> + +<P> +"Harm!" Jane shouted. "It's more than harm; it's a dirty insult. Ye +ought always to wait a year after yer wife dies afore ye marry again; +but him!—him!—he just ought to be hung." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a dirty trick, sure enough," said Mick; "but ye couldn't hang him +unless he done a murder." +</P> + +<P> +"An' so he did," said Jane sharply. "Think I don't know? I tell ye he +murdered her, as sure as I stan' on this flure." +</P> + +<P> +"Whist, Jane," said Mick; "that's the awful thing to be sayin'." +</P> + +<P> +"An' I can prove it, too," she went on, "for I saw him do it with my +own two eyes, not wanst, but twiced, an' she let out he was always +doin' it. I promised her I wouldn't come over it, but there's no harm +tellin' it now she's dead. Ye know them eggs Lull sent her?" the +children nodded. "Well, do ye mane to say she iver eat them? For she +just didn't; he eat ivery one himself, an' he eat the puddens, an' he +drunk the milk. Augh! the ould baste, he'd eat the clothes off her bed +if he could 'a' chewed them." +</P> + +<P> +"Who tould ye he eat them all?" said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, I saw him doin' it myself, I tell ye. He come home drunk one +day when I was there. He was that blind drunk he niver seen me. An' +he began eatin' all he could lay han' on. He eat up the jelly; an' two +raw eggs, an' drunk the taste a' milk she had by her in the cup, an' he +even drunk the medicine out of the bottle, an' eat up the wee bunch a' +flowers I'd tuk her, an', when he'd eat up ivery wee nip he could find, +he lay down on the flure, an' went asleep." +</P> + +<P> +"The dirty, greedy, mane ould divil," said the others. +</P> + +<P> +"An' she tould me he always done it," Jane went on. "An' I seen it was +the truth, for he come in another day, an' done the same, an' he was +that cross that he frightened her, an' she begun to spit blood, an' if +it hadn't been for me I believe he'd 'a' kilt her; but I was that mad +that I hit him a big dig in the stomach; an', mind ye, I hurted him, +for he went to bed like a lamb, an' I tied him in with an ould shawl +afore I come away." +</P> + +<P> +The others could find no words to express their disgust. They agreed +that Jane was right—such a man ought not to be allowed to live. +</P> + +<P> +"If we tould Sergeant M'Gee he'd hang him," said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"That'd be informin', said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"Almighty God's sure to pay him out when he dies," Honeybird said. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd rather pay him out now," said Jane. At that moment there was a +flash of lightning, and a crash of thunder overhead, and then a shower +of hailstones rattled against the window. +</P> + +<P> +"Mebby he'll be struck dead," said Fly; "Almighty God's sure to be +awful mad with him." +</P> + +<P> +For three hours the rain poured in torrents. The children watched it +from the schoolroom window splashing up on the path, and beating down +the fuchsia bushes in the border. +</P> + +<P> +But by dinner-time it had cleared up, and the sky looked clean and +blue, as though it had just been washed. When dinner was over they set +off to the village, expecting to hear that Jimmie had been struck by +lightning, or, as Fly thought would be more proper, killed by a +thunderbolt. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs M'Rea was standing at her door, with a ring of neighbours round +her. As they came up the street they heard her say: "There's the +childer, an' they were the kin' friends to her when she was alive." +</P> + +<P> +"Good-mornin', Mrs M'Rea," said Jane; "has Jimmie been kilt?" +</P> + +<P> +"Is it kilt," said Mrs M'Rea; "'deed an' it's no more than he +desarves—but we don't all get what we desarve in this world, glory be +to God! Troth, no; it's marriet he is, an' comin' home the night in +style on a ker, all the way from Ballynahinch." +</P> + +<P> +"We thought Almighty God'd 'a' kilt him with a thunderbolt," said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"Do ye hear that?" said old Mrs Clay. "The very childer's turned agin +him—an' small wonder, the ould ruffan; it's the quare woman would have +him." +</P> + +<P> +"By all accounts she is that," said Gordie O'Rorke, joining the group; +"they say she's six fut in her stockin's an' as blackavised as the ould +boy himself." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll be givin' her the fine welcome the night," said his granny; +"she'll be thinkin' she's got to her long home." +</P> + +<P> +"They say she's got the gran' clothes," said Gordie, "an' a silk dress +an'a gowld watch an' chain; mebby that's what tuk his fancy." +</P> + +<P> +"If she doesn't luk out he'll be eatin' it," said Patsy. There was a +roar of laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"There's none knows better than yous what he could ate," said Mrs +M'Rea. "Any bite or sup I tuk the woman I sat and seen it in her afore +I come away." +</P> + +<P> +"He's stepped over his brogues this time," said Gordie, "for me uncle +up in Ballynahinch is well acquainted with the woman, an' he sez she's +a heeler, an' no mistake." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well," said ould Mrs Glover, "I'm sayin' she'll not have her +sorras to seek." +</P> + +<P> +"No; nor Jimmie either," said Mrs M'Rea. "But there, where's the good +a' talkin'? It's the lamentable thing entirely; but they're marriet +now, an' God help both a' them." +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed yis; they're marriet," said Mrs O'Rorke, "an we'll not be +forgettin' it the night. It's tar bar'ls we'll be burnin'—they'll be +expectin' it, to be sure—an' a torchlight procession out to meet them +forby." +</P> + +<P> +"Troth, then, they'll get more than they're expectin'," said Gordie. +</P> + +<P> +"What time did ye say they'd be comin' back the night, Mrs M'Rea?" Mick +asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye know we'd like' to come to the welcome," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Och, it'd be late for the likes a' yous," answered Mrs M'Rea. "It'll +be past ten, won't it, Gordie." +</P> + +<P> +"Nearer eleven that ten," said Gordie. "You lave it to us, Miss Jane; +niver fear but they'll get the right good welcome." +</P> + +<P> +Going home they were all very quiet. No one spoke till they came to +the gates. Then Patsy said: "Lull'll niver let us out at that time a' +night." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll just have to dodge her," said Jane; "it'd be the wicked an' the +wrong thing to let ould Jimmie off." +</P> + +<P> +"It'll be the quare fun," said Patsy, dancing round. +</P> + +<P> +"It won't be fun, Patsy; it'll be vengeance," said Jane severely. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye'll take me with ye, won't ye?" Honeybird begged. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, we'll take the sowl," said Mick; "but ye'll be powerful tired." +</P> + +<P> +"What do I care about that?" she said. "I just want to hit that bad +ould man." +</P> + +<P> +Lull was surprised to see them go to bed so quietly that night. "Ye +niver know the minds a' childer," they heard her say as they left their +mother's room after they had said good-night. "I made sure they'd be +wantin' to the village to see Jimmie Burke come home." Honeybird +sniggered, but Fly nipped her into silence. +</P> + +<P> +The convent bell was ringing for Compline when Lull tucked them into +bed, but before the schoolroom clock struck ten they were on their way +to the village. When they got to Jimmie's cottage the crowd was so +great that they could see nothing. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have no han' in the welcome at all," said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"An' it's that pitch dark we'll niver see them," said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +"We'd better be goin' back a bit along the road, an give them the first +welcome," Jane said. "Come on, quick," she added, "an' we can stan' on +the wall, an' paste them with mud as they come by." +</P> + +<P> +"Hould on a minute," said Mick. "I've got a plan: we'll stick my +lantern on the wall, an' shout out they're home; they'll be that drunk +they'll niver know the differs; that'll make them stop, an' we'll get a +good shot at them." +</P> + +<P> +"Troth, we'll do better than that," said Patsy, with a chuckle. +"They'll be blind drunk, I'm tellin' ye, an' it's into the ould pond +we'll be welcomin' them. Yous three can stan' on the wall out a' the +wet, an' me an' Mike'll assist the man an' his wife to step off the +car." +</P> + +<P> +The pond was at the side of the road, not more than a hundred yards +from the village, and the wall ran right through the middle of it. The +children climbed on the wall, and crept along on their hands and knees +till they came to the deepest part. The water was up to the the top of +the wall, so they had to sit with their legs doubled up to keep them +out of the wet. +</P> + +<P> +Soon they heard the wheels of the car coming along the road. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, mind ye all screech at onst," said Patsy as he dropped off the +wall. "Auch! but the water's cowld." +</P> + +<P> +The car came nearer. Jane held up the lantern. "Hurrah, hurrah!" they +shouted; "here ye are at last. Hurrah!" +</P> + +<P> +"This way, this way," Mick shouted; "drive up to the man's own dour." +</P> + +<P> +A stone from Patsy smashed the lamp on the car. +</P> + +<P> +"Begorra, I can't see where I'm goin'," said the driver. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye're all right," Mick shouted; "there's the lamp in the man's windy." +</P> + +<P> +"Home, shweet home," said Jimmie; "no plache like home." +</P> + +<P> +"Hurrah, hurrah!" they shouted as the horse splashed into the pond. +</P> + +<P> +"Jump off, Mister Burke, there's a bit of a puddle by the step," said +Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"Home, shweet home, me darlinsh," said Jimmie; "lemme shisht ye off +kersh." +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, we'll help the wife off," said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +But Jimmie had taken his wife's arm, and as he jumped she jumped too. +Splash they went into the pond, and at the same time a shower of stones +came from the wall. The horse took fright, and started off, the driver +shouting "Murder!" as they raced down the road. +</P> + +<P> +"In the name a' God, where am I?" shouted Mrs Burke. +</P> + +<P> +But she got no answer, for Jimmie, with the help of Mick and Patsy, was +taking back ducks in the pond. Mrs Burke splashed towards the light, +going deeper every step. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye ould villain, will ye come an' help me out?" she screamed. "Sure, +it's ruinin' me dress an' me new boots I am." +</P> + +<P> +Then the light went out, and a moment later there was a gurgling cry, +followed by shrieks and cries of murder. In the middle of it all +voices were heard coming along the road from the village, and the sound +of the car coming back. +</P> + +<P> +"Hist!" said Mick. "Home." +</P> + +<P> +"Och, I'm wet to the skin," said Patsy as they ran along the road, "but +ould Jimmie's far wetter." +</P> + +<P> +"He's as dry as the wife," said Jane, "for I ducked her three times; +she went down awful easy." +</P> + +<P> +"It was me helpin' ye," said Fly; "I had her by the leg." +</P> + +<P> +"Wasn't it quare an' good a' God to make the pond that deep?" said +Honeybird. "It must 'a' been Him put it into Patsy's head to duck +them." +</P> + +<P> +"That's why He made it rain so hard this mornin'," said Jane, "an' me +thought there was no manin' in it." +</P> + +<P> +"It was the finest bit of vengeance I iver seen," said Patsy. "Ould +Jimmie was as light as a cork, an' we soused him up an' down till there +wasn't a breath left in him." +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder what Lull'll say when she sees our clothes," said Jane; "me +very shimmy's wet." But, to their surprise, when they woke next +morning clean clothes had been put out for them, and when they came +downstairs Lull only said: "Has any of ye tuk a cold?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, we haven't," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then, don't name it to yer mother," Lull said, and left them +wondering how she had found out. +</P> + +<P> +Andy Graham called them into the stable after breakfast. +</P> + +<P> +"Did ye hear the news?" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"What news?" said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"The news about the weddin'," Andy said. "Didn't Lull tell ye about +it? Sure, the whole place is ringin' with it. Poor ould Jimmie Burke +an' the wife were near kilt last night. A pack of ruffians stopped the +ker at the ould pond, an' ducked both him an' the wife. He was that +full a' waiter they had to hould him up by the heels an' let it run +out; an' the wife covered with black mud from head to fut." +</P> + +<P> +"Who done it?" said Patsy, looking Andy in the face. +</P> + +<P> +"Who done it, do ye say?" said Andy—"sure, that's what I'd like to +know myself. There wasn't wan out a' the village but what was waitin' +at the man's own dour when the ker come up, an ne'ery a wan on it but +the driver, shoutin' murder, an' when the neighbours went back along +the road there was Jimmie an' the wife in the middle a' the pond, and +niver a sowl else to be seen." +</P> + +<P> +Mick laughed. "Ye're the fly ould boy, Andy," he said; "an' I must say +ye done it right well, but didn't ye get awful wet when ye were duckin' +them?" +</P> + +<P> +Andy stared at him. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right, Andy; we'll niver name it," said Patsy. "An' I +wouldn't 'a' blamed ye if ye'd 'a' drownded the both a' them." +</P> + +<P> +Andy whistled. "Ye've as much brass as would make a dour knocker," he +said. "But, see here, the next time yous are on the war pad don't be +lavin' circumstantial evidence behind ye." He brought out from behind +the door an old rag doll, soaking wet. +</P> + +<P> +"Och a nee!" wailed Honeybird, "it was me done that. I hadn't the +heart to lave her at home," she explained. "She's Bloody Mary, an' I +thought she'd enjoy the vengeance." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought I knowed her when I seen her lyin' at the side a' the pond +this mornin," said Andy. "An', mind ye, I'm not blamin' ye, an' I'm +not sayin' but what Jimmie an' the wife disarved it, but ye'd better +keep a quiet tongue in yer heads. There's nobuddy but meself an' Lull +knows who done it, and nobuddy'll iver know. It's all very well for a +wheen a' neighbours to do the like, but it's no work for quality to be +doin'." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +JANE AT MISS COURTNEY'S SCHOOL +</H4> + +<P> +Jane hated going to school. She had begged to be allowed to go on +doing lessons with Mr Rannigan, though he had said five children were +too many for him at his age. Then she had begged to be allowed to go +to a boys' school with Mick. But all her pleadings were in vain. Lull +had arranged that she was to go to the select young ladies' school that +Aunt Mary had attended when she was a girl. Lull secretly hoped that +contact with the select young ladies would make Jane a little bit more +genteel. Every morning, driving into town on the car with Andy, Jane +mourned to Mick for the good days that were gone. Mick annoyed her by +liking the change. His school was quite pleasant. +</P> + +<P> +"How'd ye like to be me," she asked him, "goin' to a school where +whativer ye do it's always wrong?" +</P> + +<P> +She hid her unhappiness from Lull, partly because Lull had taken such +pride in sending her to Miss Courtney's, partly because she could not +have told Lull the offences for which she was reproved—offences no one +would have noticed at home. +</P> + +<P> +In spite of an eager desire to be good and polite Jane was constantly +accused of being wicked and rude. Mr Rannigan had never found fault +with her manners, but Miss Courtney sent her back three times one day +to re-enter the room because she bobbed her head and said: "Mornin'," +when she came in. Jane, in bewilderment, repeated the offence, and was +punished. "I wisht I'd 'a' knowed what it was she wanted," she +complained to Mick. "If I had I'd 'a' done it at wanst." +</P> + +<P> +She gathered that, in school, it was considered a sin to speak like the +poor. Miss Courtney said a lady should have an English accent, and a +voice like a silvery wave. Jane trembled every time she had to speak +to her. In other things besides pronunciation she never knew when she +was doing right or wrong. +</P> + +<P> +She was reproved for shaking hands with a housemaid, and sent into the +corner for putting a spelling-book on the top of a Bible. School was a +strange world to her. To speak with an English accent, to have a +mother who wore real lace and a father who did no work, these things +made you a lady, and if you were not a lady you were despised. Jane +could tell the girls nothing about her father. Her pronunciation was +shocking, and the girls made fun of her magenta stockings and home-made +clothes. If only Mick had been with her Jane felt she could have borne +anything. She was terribly home-sick every day. From the time Andy +left her in the morning she counted the minutes till he would come to +take her back again to Rowallan and people who were kind. But it was +only to Mick she told her trouble. He said Miss Courtney was a fool, +and Jane trembled lest Miss Courtney might overhear it six miles away. +She was almost as frightened of the big girls as of Miss Courtney. +They wore such elegant clothes, and had such power to sting with their +tongues. One day when Jane, in joyful haste, was putting on her hat to +go home three of the big girls came into the cloakroom. They were +talking eagerly. One of them mentioned Jane's name, then asked Jane +how much she was going to give towards Miss Courtney's birthday +present. She explained that they always gave her a beautiful present +each year. "What is the good of asking her?" said another, "she's +hasn't a penny, I'm sure." The scorn in her voice seemed to scorch +Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll give five shillin's," she said calmly. She had not as many +pennies in the world, but she could not bear to be despised. The big +girls were delighted. They were quite kind to her. Jane promised to +bring the money next day. All the way home she prayed that God would +send her five shillings. She would not ask Lull for it—Lull was too +poor; Jane would rather have confessed to the big girls that she had no +money than take it from Lull. She prayed earnestly before going to +bed, she woke in the night to pray, but morning came, and she was on +her way to school without the money. When she got off the car at the +end off the street she was still praying, hoping that at the last +moment she would find the money on the pavement at her feet. Suddenly +Mick's voice startled her. "Ten shillin's reward! Lost, a red settler +dog." He was reading a poster on the wall. Jane laughed with glee. +She thanked God for His goodness before she read the poster. Here was +the money, and five shillings over. She expected to see the lost dog +at the end of the street. She read the poster carefully. The red +setter answered to the name of Toby. Nothing could be more easy to +find. Mick dropped their schoolbags over a wall among some laurel +bushes, and they started on the search. They began with the street +they were in, calling Toby up one side and down the other. But they +got no answer. Then they went on to the next, and so on from street to +street. They saw brown dogs, black dogs, white dogs, yellow dogs, but +no sign of a red setter. When they had searched the principal streets +they tried the back streets. Jane called the dog's name till she was +hoarse, and then Mick called in his turn. They asked a policeman if he +had seen Toby. "A settler dog! I niver heerd tell a' that breed," he +said. "Where did you loss it?" +</P> + +<P> +"We niver lost it, we're only lukin' for it," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +The policeman thought for a moment. "I think I know where I could lay +my han' on a nice wee coally pup, if that'd content ye," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Jane thanked him kindly, and they continued their search. When they +had been walking for about two hours Mick began to despair. +</P> + +<P> +"We're sure to fin' it," Jane assured him. "Somebuddy's stole it; +let's luk in people's back yards." Back yards were hard to get at in +town. They listened for barks, and followed up the sound. Three times +a bark led them back by different ways to the same dog. Then they were +chased by owners of back yards, and once Jane tore her frock climbing +over a shed. Jane never thought of giving in. The lost dog was to be +sent in answer to her prayer to give her the money she needed so badly. +At last they came to an open door, through which they saw into a yard, +and there by a kennel sat a big red dog. Jane gave a shout of joy. +</P> + +<P> +"Toby, good Toby!" she called. "Is it here ye're settlin', and' us +lukin' the town for ye?" The dog was chained, but they unfastened him, +and with the help of a slice of bread and butter Jane had with her for +luncheon they coaxed him from the yard. It was well they kept him on +the chain, for once they got out Toby began to run. He was a big dog, +and pulled hard. Both the children held tight to the chain, and still +he pulled them at a run through the streets. At last they were so +tired they had to rest. They sat down on a curbstone, with Toby +between them, and were just beginning to discuss the reward when a +heavy hand fell on Mick's shoulder. It was the school porter. In +spite of their protests he insisted that Mick was playing truant, and +marched him off to school. Jane, left alone with Toby, debated what +she ought to do. The reward was to be got in a village three or four +miles at the other side of Rowallan, so she would have to wait and go +back with Andy. But there was still an hour and a half before he would +call at Miss Courtney's to take her home. She decided that it was her +duty to go back to school till he came. She could explain to Miss +Courtney that Toby was a valuable dog she had found. She could also +tell the big girls, with perfect truth, that she would bring five +shillings next day. When she got up to go Toby started at the same +bounding pace, dragging her through mud and puddles. But she got him +to the place where Mick had hidden the schoolbags. Then, with her bag +in her hand, she stood for a moment in doubt. +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't take ye if I didn't think ye'd be as good as gold," she +said. Toby wagged his tail. As she was taking off her hat in the +cloakroom she warned him once more that he must be good. He seemed to +understand perfectly, and walked quietly by her side to the schoolroom +door. When she opened the door everybody looked up; there was a murmur +of astonishment, and before she could stop him Toby had bounded from +her, and was barking furiously at the infant class. All the children +screamed. Jane did her best to catch him, but he got away from her. +The big girls jumped on tables and forms, the little ones huddled +behind each other. Miss Courtney stood on a chair. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll not hurt ye," Jane tried to assure them. "Quit yer yellin', an' +he'll be as quiet as a lamb." +</P> + +<P> +"Turn him out, turn him out!" screamed Miss Courtney. At last Jane +succeeded in catching Toby by the collar. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye bad ruffan," she said, "scarin' the wits out a' iverybody." The +noise died down except for the wailing of a few children who were still +frightened. Miss Courtney rang for a servant, and ordered her to turn +the dog out. Jane explained that this was impossible; Toby was a +valuable dog she had found, and she must take him home to his owner. +Miss Courtney would not listen to her. The dog was to be sent away at +once. Jane, when she saw Miss Courtney was frightened of Toby, said +she would take him away herself. But, to her surprise, this was not +allowed. She was to stay, and the dog was to go. Miss Courtney would +not listen to reason. It was nothing to her that Toby was valuable, +that there was ten shillings reward for him, that Jane had had great +trouble finding him. Jane was a wicked girl, she said, and the dog +must go. Jane could not see why she was in disgrace—she had done +nothing wrong. It was Toby who had frightened them. But astonishment +soon gave place to tears. Miss Courtney made it plain that she must be +obeyed. The servant, afraid to touch Toby herself, led Jane weeping to +the front door to turn him out. The moment the door was opened Toby +bounded away, dragging his chain after him. Once he stopped to look +back; then, as Jane did not follow, he went on alone. The servant was +unsympathetic; she knew nothing of the bewildered disappointment in +Jane's heart. She said Jane deserved to be whipped. A far more awful +punishment was in store. Jane was condemned to stand in the corner +till she had fulfilled all the hours she had wasted in the streets. +Jane was terrified. She forgot the disgrace, forgot the lost reward, +forgot the scorn the big girls would heap on her when they found she +had no money. If she had to stay there till six o'clock Andy would go +away without her, and she would have to walk all those long miles back +to Rowallan in the dark alone. She begged Miss Courtney to let her go; +she prayed God to soften Miss Courtney's heart. But it was all in +vain. When the other children went home a Bible was put into her +hands, and she was told to learn the fifty-first Psalm. She got no +further than "Have mercy upon me, O God." Misery such as she had never +known before overwhelmed her. Perhaps she would never get home again. +Anything might happen in those long, long hours. Everybody might die +in her absence. Perhaps, when she got out of school at last, and +tramped the long miles home, and ran past the shadow of the gates up +the dark avenue, she would put her hand on the bell, and hear it echo +in an empty house. Everyone would have grown up and gone away years +ago, and left her. +</P> + +<P> +The light began to fade from the sky, and Jane could bear her misery no +longer. She determined to run away. She crept quietly across the +floor to the door. As she opened it she heard Miss Courtney's footstep +on the stairs. For a moment Jane's heart was sick with fear; then, in +despair, she ducked her head, and charged for freedom. Miss Courtney +went down three steps backwards way. Jane never stopped. She seized +her coat and hat, and ran out into the street. There at the gate was +the car, with Andy and Mick waiting for her. She gave a sob of relief +at the sight. +</P> + +<P> +"Drive quick, Andy," she begged as she climbed up; "I'm feared I've +kilt her." +</P> + +<P> +"Ould divil," said Mick sympathetically. "One a' the girls tould me +what she done. All I got was a slap with the cane." +</P> + +<P> +Jane was laughing and crying by turns. "Her two feet was up in the +air, but I'm feared thon crack must 'a' split her skull." +</P> + +<P> +When she was calmer Mick broke the news that Toby was not a red setter +at all. "It's a wonder the polis wasn't after yez," said Andy from the +other side of the car, "stealin' dogs out a' people's back yards." +Jane did not mind about Toby. She said it did not matter now, for she +was never going back to Miss Courtney's again. She told Lull +everything that evening. Lull thought Miss Courtney would forgive her, +but Jane refused to go near the hated place again. So Patsy was sent +to school with Mick, and Jane went back to do lessons with Mr Rannigan. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +AN ENGLISH AUNT +</H4> + +<P> +No one had invited the English aunt to come over, so when a letter +arrived one morning saying she would be with them that same day, and +would they send the carriage to the station to meet her, everyone was +surprised. The children were delighted at the thought of a visit from +an unknown aunt: they had thought Aunt Mary was the only aunt they had. +This strange Aunt Charlotte was their mother's sister, and, Patsy said, +she was sure to bring them a present in her trunk. But Lull went about +the house, getting ready a room in the nursery passage, dusting the +drawing-room, and opening the windows, with a look in her eyes that was +not of pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't ye want Aunt Charlotte to come?" Jane asked her. +</P> + +<P> +"Want her?" Lull snapped. "Why couldn't she come when she was wanted +sore? What kep' her then, an' me prayin' night an' day for her?" +</P> + +<P> +Jane stopped in the middle of the drawing-room floor with a soup tureen +full of dog-daisies in her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"There, I'll quit bletherin'!" Lull added. "None of yous mind, thank +God, but—if I had 'a' had a young sister struck dumb in morshial agony +haythen Turks wouldn't 'a' kep' me from her." +</P> + +<P> +Lull flounced out of the room, and Jane was left standing in the middle +of the floor. She had never heard Lull speak like that before. What +did she mean? A young sister, she had said; their mother was the only +sister Aunt Charlotte had. When was their mother struck dumb and Aunt +Charlotte wouldn't come? Jane went out to the stable, where Andy +Graham was putting the horse in the car. Honeybird was brushing his +top hat for him at the far end of the stable, but Jane did not see her. +</P> + +<P> +"Andy, when was mother struck dumb in morshial agony?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +Andy dropped a trace. "By the holy poker! what put that in yer head?" +he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Lull said Aunt Charlotte wouldn't come when she was wanted sore, an' +her young sister was struck dumb in morshial agony," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"An' a fine ould clashbag Lull was to say the word," said Andy, picking +up the trace. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell us, Andy, an' I'll niver name it," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"See here, Miss Jane," said Andy, "it's no talk for the likes a' yous +to be hearin'. Sure, there's niver a wan would mind it at all if it +wasn't for that ould targe of a Lull, an' it be to be as far back as +the flood for her to forget." +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, Andy; tell a buddy," Jane begged, "an' I'll not come over it to +a livin' sowl." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, ye know all I know myself," said Andy. "The mistress was tarble +bad, an' they sent for yer Aunt Charlotte, an' she wouldn't come." +</P> + +<P> +"Why wouldn't she?" said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"God knows," said Andy. "She wouldn't, and Lull was clean dimented at +the time for the want of her. An' I'm tellin' ye it got yer Aunt +Charlotte an ill name about the place. There's many's the wan has it +agin her to this day." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you, Andy?" said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it me! God forgive me, I could bear no malice. An' see an' forgit +it yerself Miss Jane, for she'll be the good aunt to ye all yit." +</P> + +<P> +Jane went slowly back to the house. She would have liked to consult +Mick about it, but she had promised not to tell. The only thing to do +was to wait till she could ask Aunt Charlotte herself. +</P> + +<P> +Mick went to the station on the car to meet Aunt Charlotte. The others +waited at the gate, two on each of the stone lions, to give a cheer +when she arrived. +</P> + +<P> +It was a long drive from the station, and they were stiff and cramped +before the car came back, but Jane would not let them get down, for +fear the car might turn the corner while they were down, and Aunt +Charlotte would not get a proper welcome. +</P> + +<P> +It came at last, and they hurrahed till they were hoarse. Aunt +Charlotte sat on one side, and Mick on the other. There was a tin box +between them on the well of the car. As the car came nearer they saw +that Mick was making signs, shaking his head and frowning, and when the +car turned in at the gate Aunt Charlotte looked straight in front of +her, and did not even glance at the welcoming party on the lions. +</P> + +<P> +They got down, and followed up the avenue. In a minute they were +joined by Mick. "Let's hide," he said; "she's an ould divil." +</P> + +<P> +Silently they turned away from the house, across the lawn, and dropped +over the wall into the road. They went up the road till they came to +an opening in the wall on the other side, where they filed through, and +struck out across the fields. Sheep were feeding on the spongy grass, +and as they got farther away from home rocks and boulders began to +appear, and at last a long line of clear blue sea. Mick led the way +till they came to a flat rock jutting out like a shelf over the sea, +and here they sat down. +</P> + +<P> +"What did she do?" Jane asked. +</P> + +<P> +"She said I was no gentleman," said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"What for?" +</P> + +<P> +Mick began his tale. +</P> + +<P> +"When the train come in I went up to her, an' sez I: 'How'r' ye?' Sez +she: 'Who are you?' Sez I: 'I'm Michael Darragh.' 'Is it possible?' +sez she, an' ye should 'a' seen the ould face on her. Sez I: 'The +car's waitin'.' 'Then tell the man to come for my luggage,' sez she." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh Mick," gasped Jane, "what did ye do?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know what to do. I didn't like to say right out that Andy +had got no livery on his legs, and daren't strip off the rug. So I +sez: 'We'll get a porter to carry it out.' 'No,' sez she; 'I'd have to +tip him. Tell the coachman to come.'" +</P> + +<P> +"As mane as dirt," said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +"Sez I: 'He can't come, Aunt Charlotte, 'cause he can't get off the +dickey.' 'What's the matter with him?' sez she. I was afraid I'd tell +a lie, but I thought a bit, an' then I sez: 'He's disable.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Good for you, Mickey Free!" Jane shouted. +</P> + +<P> +"But it wasn't good, for when we started she begun astin' Andy what +ailed him. Andy didn't know, so he said he was in the best of good +health. Sez she: 'My nephew tould me you had been disabled.' 'Divil a +fut, mem,' sez Andy; 'I'm as well as ye are yerself.' She got as red +as fire, an' sez she: 'No gentleman tells lies, Michael!" Mick's face +was white with anger. +</P> + +<P> +"But ye tould no lie, Mickey dear," said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"An' ye couldn't tell her Andy had no white breeches," said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear forgive her," said Jane bitterly, "an' we thought she was an +aunt." +</P> + +<P> +They did not go home till it was getting dark. When they went into the +kitchen Lull was sitting by the fire. "Well," she said, "did ye see +yer Aunt Charlotte; she's out lukin' for ye?" +</P> + +<P> +"She can luk till she's black for all I care," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +Their mother was sitting up in bed when they went in to say good-night, +and they saw she had been crying. +</P> + +<P> +"You are the best children in the world," she said, "but your Aunt +Charlotte thinks you are barbarians." +</P> + +<P> +"She's an ould divil, an' we just hate the sight a' her," said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, an' there's more than yous does that," said Lull. +</P> + +<P> +"Hush, Lull," said their mother; "she is my sister, after all." +</P> + +<P> +"Purty sister," Lull snorted, "comin' where she's not wanted, upsettin' +everybuddy with her talk a' ruination." +</P> + +<P> +"It's true, it's true," Mrs Darragh wailed, and began to cry again. +</P> + +<P> +Lull hurried the children out of the room; they heard her comforting +their mother as they went down the passage. They went to bed with +heavy hearts. Jane said her prayers three times over, then cried +herself to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Next morning Aunt Charlotte was down early. Fly and Patsy, who had +been out to see if the gooseberries were ripe, met her in the hall as +they came back. +</P> + +<P> +"Good morning," she said. "I don't think I saw you yesterday. What +are your names?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am Fly, an' he is Patsy," Fly answered. +</P> + +<P> +"What?" said Aunt Charlotte. +</P> + +<P> +"Fly an' Patsy," Fly repeated, and was going past, but Aunt Charlotte +pounced on some gooseberries Fly had in her pinafore. "What are you +going to do with these?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Ripe them," said Patsy, trying to get past. +</P> + +<P> +"You cannot ripen green gooseberries off the bushes," said Aunt +Charlotte. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, then, ye just can," said Fly; "ye squeeze them till they're +soft, an' then ye suck them till they're sweet." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sure your nurse cannot allow you to do anything so disgusting," +said Aunt Charlotte. +</P> + +<P> +At this moment Lull came out of the schoolroom, where she had been +laying the table for breakfast. +</P> + +<P> +"M'Leary!" said Aunt Charlotte—they had never heard Lull called that +before—"surely you cannot allow the children to eat such poisonous +stuff as unripe gooseberries?" +</P> + +<P> +Lull's eyes flashed fire for a second, then she said: "You lave them to +me, mem," and took Fly and Patsy off to the kitchen, where they +squeezed and sucked the gooseberries in peace. +</P> + +<P> +At breakfast Aunt Charlotte asked questions about everything: who their +neighbours were; where they visited; where they went to church. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," she said, "I have not been here before, so you must tell me +everything about your surroundings now." +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't ye come afore?" said Jane eagerly. "When ye were wanted +sore, what kept ye then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Little girls cannot understand the motives of their elders," Aunt +Charlotte said sharply. "I was far from well, and the country was +disturbed." +</P> + +<P> +"What's disturbed?" said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +Her back stiffened. "Your fellow-countrymen were in a wicked state of +rebellion against the powers ordained by God," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, an' who wouldn't fight the polis?" said Patsy. "Ye should 'a' +seen the gran' fight we had last week on the twelfth." +</P> + +<P> +"I understood that everything was quiet," Aunt Charlotte murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"Lull was prayin' night an' day for ye to come. She was clean dimented +for the want of ye," Jane went on, hoping Aunt Charlotte would explain. +But Aunt Charlotte did nothing of the kind. +</P> + +<P> +"We will not discuss the matter," she said; "I have told you it was +impossible for me to come." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm tellin' ye it got ye an ill name about the place," said Honeybird, +looking up from her porridge; "there's many's a one has it agin ye to +this day." +</P> + +<P> +The children looked at each other in surprise. Honeybird had a way of +repeating things she had picked up; but only Jane knew where she could +have heard this, and a kick from Jane told her to be quiet. Aunt +Charlotte's knife and fork dropped with a clatter on her plate. Her +face was white as chalk. For a minute no one spoke. Aunt Charlotte +drank some coffee, and shut her eyes. The children thought she had +forgotten to say her grace till now; they went on with their breakfast, +and in a few minutes she spoke again. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you all like toys," she said. +</P> + +<P> +The three younger ones brightened up. +</P> + +<P> +"You know there are beautiful toys to be had in London, and I did think +of bringing you some, but, then, I thought that out here in the +country, with so many trees and flowers to play with, it would be like +bringing coals to Newcastle." +</P> + +<P> +They understood that she had brought nothing. Mick and Jane looked +relieved, but Honeybird's eyes filled with tears. "Niver a wee dawl?" +she said. +</P> + +<P> +"What does she mean?" said Aunt Charlotte. "Oh, a little doll; the +child speaks like a peasant." +</P> + +<P> +No one answered. Honeybird's tears dropped into her lap. Fly passed +her a ripened gooseberry under the table. +</P> + +<P> +After breakfast Aunt Charlotte said they must show her the gardens and +the stable. They had meant to go out bathing, and stay away all day; +but there was no escaping from her, so they started off, to the stables +first. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Charlotte shook her head over everything. +</P> + +<P> +"Disgraceful neglect," they heard her say. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll soon make it grand when our ship comes in," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"What a strange expression," said Aunt Charlotte. "And, pray, when +will that be?" +</P> + +<P> +"God knows, for I don't," said Honeybird, repeating what Andy Graham +always said when they asked him that question. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Charlotte looked at Honeybird, who was playing with the cat. "Do +you know that you have taken your Maker's name in vain?" she said. "Go +back to the house at once, you wicked child." +</P> + +<P> +Honeybird stared, her grey eyes growing wider and wider. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you hear me?" said Aunt Charlotte. "Go into the house at once." +</P> + +<P> +With a gasp of horror Honeybird turned back across the yard, and they +heard her go into the kitchen, sobbing: "Poor, poor wee me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Now take me to see the kitchen garden," said Aunt Charlotte. +</P> + +<P> +"Ould Davy'll be mad if we do," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you would speak more distinctly," said Aunt Charlotte, "I +cannot understand what you say." +</P> + +<P> +"I on'y said ould Davy'd be cross," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"What is his name? Who is he?" said Aunt Charlotte. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, he's just ould Davy," said Patsy; "thon's him in among the +cur'n' bushes." +</P> + +<P> +But ould Davy spoke for himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Be off wid yer," he shouted; "away home ar this, or if I catch the +hould a' yer I'll cut yer throats." +</P> + +<P> +"I tould ye he'd be cross," said Jane. +</P> + +<P> +But Aunt Charlotte was running back to the house as fast her legs would +carry her. +</P> + +<P> +"She's feared," said Jane joyfully. +</P> + +<P> +Patsy danced. "It'd be quare fun to take her to see Jane Dyer," he +said. +</P> + +<P> +They laughed at the thought till they had to sit down on the path. +</P> + +<P> +"I wisht I could come with ye," said Jane, "but ould Jane's friends +with me, so I can't." +</P> + +<P> +"No; ye'll have to stay at home, Janey dear," said Mick; "she wouldn't +lift a finger if she saw ye with us." +</P> + +<P> +"It's all because I tuk her them ould boots," said Jane; "but yous +three can go; an' mind ye run the minute she throws the first stone, +for if ye stan' an' face her she's like a lamb." +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes later Mick and Fly and Patsy came into the drawing-room, +and asked Aunt Charlotte if she would like to go for a walk; they were +going down to the sea, they said. Aunt Charlotte said she would be +delighted to go. She put on her hat and gloves, and they started. On +each side of the road was a wall of loose stones bound together by moss +and brambles. In the distance, to their right, rose the mountains, and +a turn of the road about a mile from home brought them in sight of the +sea. They passed through the village, a long road of whitewashed +cottages, with here and there a fuchsia bush by a door, a line of +bright nasturtiums under a window, or a potato patch dotted with curly +kale by the side of a house. Farther down the street the church stood +back from the road in a graveyard full of tombstones and weeds. Aunt +Charlotte said she was interested in churches, so they stopped to look +at it. Coming back through the graveyard Mick showed her the +tombstones of the rebels, with skull and crossbones on the top, and the +grave of a great-uncle of theirs, who had been hanged at the time of +the rebellion for deserting his friends. +</P> + +<P> +"Serve him right, the ould traitor," said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Charlotte was shocked. "If he was your great-uncle you should +think of him with respect," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"An' him an informer!" said Mick; "'deed, I'd 'a' kilt him myself, so I +would. Andy Graham sez he'd 'a' japped the brains out a' him." +</P> + +<P> +"Lull sez she'd 'a' napped him on the head with a wee blackthorn," said +Fly. "But whist," she added, "I do believe the ould ruffian's lyin' in +his grave listenin' to us." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Charlotte shivered. As they were going down the steps Patsy +stopped. "Look at them two ould rats," he said, "sittin' there on the +wall like ould men. They're just sayin' which of us all will be +brought here the first." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Charlotte gave a little scream, and ran out into the road. "You +children have such morbid minds," she said; "indeed," with a little +laugh, "you have made me quite nervous." +</P> + +<P> +About five minutes' walk from the village they came to a lane that ran +down to the sea, black mud underfoot and stone walls on each side. The +lane widened into a small farmyard. There was a low cottage, a stack +of peat, and two or three hens picking about in the mud. +</P> + +<P> +"What a squalid scene!" said Aunt Charlotte. "Is it possible that any +human being can live here?" +</P> + +<P> +The children did not answer, for, to their disappointment, the door was +shut. "She's out!" Mick said. +</P> + +<P> +A few yards from the cottage the land ended on the seashore. The sand +was covered with brown seaweed; a cart filled with it was propped up on +stones. Bits of cork and wood were strewn about in every direction, +and beyond the line of dry seaweed there were big round stones covered +with golden brown seaweed, still wet, for the tide was only half-way +out. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Charlotte didn't like this sea very much. She said it was all so +untidy. Not even the beautiful green crabs that Fly caught under the +wet seaweed pleased her, so after a few minutes they turned back. The +children were afraid that Jane Dyer would not have come home yet, but +just as they passed the cottage Aunt Charlotte suddenly gripped hold of +Mick's arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is that," she said sharply; "there, coming down the lane?" Fly +gave a hysterical giggle. Coming towards them down the lane was a tall +figure dressed in an old green ulster coat, tied in round the waist by +an apron; white hair fell about a flat white face, and big bare feet +splashed in the mud. As it came it muttered and frowned and shook its +fist. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is it, I say?" said Aunt Charlotte. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Jane Dyer," said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +Patsy gave a loud 'Hee-haw,' that was supposed to remind Jane of her +dead donkey, and always made her wild with rage, even if the sight of +visitors in her lane had not already made her angry. She came swinging +along, muttering and cursing to herself, stopping here and there to +pick up a stone, till her apron was full. Then, with a sudden leap in +the air, she aimed. The stone hit Fly on the shin; she gave a yell of +pain, and was over the wall in a second. The boys followed, while a +volley of stones and curses came from the lane. Aunt Charlotte was +left behind. They heard her scrambling over the wall, the loose stones +rolling off as she scrambled, and as they ran they could hear her +panting: "My God, my God, this is awful!" +</P> + +<P> +Two fields away the boys found Fly sitting on a bank nursing her leg. +"Did ye hear her takin' her Maker's name in vain?" said Patsy, and he +rolled on the grass with laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"I niver seen ould Jane in better fettle," said Mick. +</P> + +<P> +"If we'd had any wit we'd 'a' set Sammy on her too," said Fly. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll do it yit," said Patsy, and there and then they began to run +like hares along the road to the cottage where Sammy lived. Sammy was +an innocent, and lived in a one-roomed cottage on the roadside that was +entirely hidden from sight by the rowan-trees that grew round it. He +was a little old man, who spent his days attending to his sister's pig. +There was not a more peaceable soul in the countryside, but on the +subject of the pig Sammy could be roused to fury. He talked to it, +sang to it, fed it out of his hand. When he walked about the fields +the pig followed at his heels, when he sat on the doorstep it lay at +his feet. But if one of the village children threw a stone at it, or +if any threatened in joke to harm it, Sammy was beside himself with +rage, and it was an insult he never forgot. Twice a week he came to +Rowallan for the refuse and broken meat, and, next to the pig, he loved +the children. He was at home when they knocked at the door, and came +out at once. +</P> + +<P> +"M-m-m-m-mornin'!" he stammered. +</P> + +<P> +They were out of breath, and could hardly speak. Sammy began to look +frightened; it was so easy to scare his few wits away. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Sammy, she's comin' after yer pig," Fly panted. +</P> + +<P> +"Wh-wh-wh-where?" Sammy shouted. +</P> + +<P> +"Along the road," said Patsy; "she'll be here in a minute; a long +string of a woman with a black dress on. She's clean mad to get at it; +ye'd better be out, an' chase her." +</P> + +<P> +"L-l-l-l-let me at her!" roared Sammy, picking up his bucket. +</P> + +<P> +"She's comin' to kill it, Sammy," said Mick; "she come all the way from +England to do it." +</P> + +<P> +Sammy was dancing on the doorstep. "Hide down behind the wall till she +comes," said Patsy, and they pulled Sammy down with them. +</P> + +<P> +"Whist, Sammy; be quiet, man, till she comes," said Mick—for Sammy was +snorting and quivering. "I'll give ye the word when I see her." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-233"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-233.jpg" ALT=""Whist, Sammy, be quiet, man, till she comes," said Mick" BORDER="2" WIDTH="421" HEIGHT="581"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 421px"> +"Whist, Sammy, be quiet, man, till she comes," said Mick +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +In about five minutes Aunt Charlotte came in sight. They saw her +through the holes in the wall, limping slowly, and looking back over +her shoulder every few steps. Her hair was down, and she was trying to +fasten it up. Mick nudged Fly and Patsy not to speak, and gave Aunt +Charlotte time to pass the cottage before he said: "Here she comes, +Sammy." Sammy jumped up, and out on to the road, waving his bucket +over his head, and roaring: "Ye-ye-ye-ye ould butcher, E-e-e-e-english +butcher, I'll-'ll-'ll-'ll bite ye." +</P> + +<P> +There was a half-stifled scream as Aunt Charlotte turned for a second, +and the next moment she was out of sight. Sammy danced on the road, +and yelled after her till he was hoarse, then he came back to where the +children were crouched down behind the wall. +</P> + +<P> +"S-s-s-she was aff like the wind, af-af-af-fore I could touch her," he +said, "b-b-but I'll kill her th-th-the next time." +</P> + +<P> +They shook hands with him, and told him he was a brave man. Then they +went down to the sea, and bathed, and stayed out till it was tea-time. +Jane and Honeybird met them at the door when they got home. "She's +away back to England," they chanted. +</P> + +<P> +The others could hardly believe their ears. "She came back all mud and +dirt," said Jane, "with her hair a-hingin' in her eyes, an' said we +were all haythens an' savages, an' she wouldn't stay another day in +this blackguardy country." +</P> + +<P> +Lull questioned them while they were having supper. "An' what an' iver +did ye do to send yer Aunt Charlotte home like thon?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +"'Deed, we just tuk her to see Jane Dyer," said Patsy. +</P> + +<P> +Lull looked at him for a minute. "There's a hape a' wisdom in a +chile," she said at last. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH. +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<CENTER> + +<IMG SRC="images/cat-01.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 1"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-02.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 2"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-03.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 3"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-04.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 4"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-05.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 5"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-06.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 6"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-07.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 7"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-08.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 8"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-09.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 9"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-10.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 10"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-11.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 11"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-12.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 12"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-13.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 13"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-14.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 14"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-15.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 15"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-16.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 16"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-17.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 17"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-18.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 18"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-19.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 19"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-20.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 20"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-21.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 21"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-22.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 22"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-23.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 23"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-24.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 24"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-25.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 25"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-26.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 26"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-27.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 27"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-28.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 28"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-29.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 29"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-30.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 30"> +<BR><BR> +<IMG SRC="images/cat-31.jpg" ALT="Catalogue page 31"> + +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Weans at Rowallan, by Kathleen Fitzpatrick + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEANS AT ROWALLAN *** + +***** This file should be named 31362-h.htm or 31362-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/6/31362/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Weans at Rowallan + +Author: Kathleen Fitzpatrick + +Illustrator: A. Guy Smith + +Release Date: February 22, 2010 [EBook #31362] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEANS AT ROWALLAN *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: "I'm comin' home from a feeneral," Honeybird called out +cheerfully.] + + + + + + +THE WEANS AT ROWALLAN + + +BY + +KATHLEEN FITZPATRICK + + + + +WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. GUY SMITH + + + + +METHUEN & CO. + +36 ESSEX STREET W.C. + +LONDON + + + + +_First Published in 1905_ + +_Second Edition 1905_ + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I. WHY MRS M'REA RETURNED TO THE FAITH OF HER FATHERS + II. UNDER THE SHADOW OF THE MOUNTAINS + III. JANE'S CONVERSION + IV. A DAY OF GROWTH + V. THE CHILD SAMUEL + VI. THE BEST FINDER + VII. A STOCKING FULL OF GOLD + VIII. THE BANTAM HEN + IX. THE DORCAS SOCIETY + X. THE CRUEL HARM + XI. A CHIEF MOURNER + XII. A SAFEGUARD FOR HAPPINESS + XIII. JIMMIE BURKE'S WEDDING + XIV. JANE AT MISS COURTNEY'S SCHOOL + XV. AN ENGLISH AUNT + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +"I'M COMIN' HOME FROM A FEENERAL," HONEYBIRD CALLED OUT + CHEERFULLY . . . . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_ + +WHEN FLY LOOKED IN UNDER THE WHIN THERE WAS HONEYBIRD FAST ASLEEP + +"MICHAEL DARRAGH! IS THAT WHO YE ARE? MOTHER A' GOD! AN' YER + FATHER'S GUN IN HIS HAN'" + +"WHIST, SAMMY; BE QUIET, MAN, TILL SHE COMES," SAID MICK + + + + +THE WEANS AT ROWALLAN + + +CHAPTER I + +WHY MRS M'REA RETURNED TO THE FAITH OF HER FATHERS + +One soaking wet day in September Patsy was sitting by the kitchen fire +eating bread and sugar for want of better amusement when he was cheered +by the sight of a tall figure in a green plaid shawl hurrying past the +window in the driving rain. He got up from his creepie stool to go for +the other children, who were playing in the schoolroom, when Lull, +sprinkling clothes at the table, exclaimed: + +"Bad luck to it, here's that ould runner again." + +Patsy quietly moved his stool back into the shadow of the chimney +corner. In that mood Lull, if she saw him, would chase him from the +kitchen when the news began; and clearly Teressa was bringing news +worth hearing. As far back as Patsy or any of the children could +remember, Teressa had brought the village gossip to Rowallan. Neither +rain nor storm could keep the old woman back when there was news to +tell. One thing only--a dog in her path--had power to turn her aside. +The quietest dog sent her running like a hare, and the most obviously +imitated bark made her cry. + +She came in, shaking the rain from her shawl. + +"Woman, dear, but that's the saft day. I'm dreepin' to the marrow +bone." + +"What an' iver brought ye out?" said Lull shortly. + +Teressa sank into a chair, and wiped her wet face with the corner of +her apron. "'Deed, ye may weel ast me. My grandson was for stoppin' +me, but says I to myself, says I, the mistress be to hear this before +night." + +"She'll hear no word of it, then," said Lull. "She's sleepin' sound, +an' I'd cut aff my han' afore I'd wake her for any ould clash." + +Teressa paid no heed. "Such carryin's-on, Lull, I niver seen. Mrs +M'Rea, the woman, she bates Banagher. She's drunk as much whiskey +these two days as would destroy a rigiment, an' now she has the whole +village up with her talk." + +"Andy was tellin' me she was at it again," said Lull. + +"Och, I wisht ye'd see her," said Teressa. "She was neither to bind +nor to stay. An' the tongue of her. Callin' us a lock a' papishes an' +fenians! Sure, she was sittin' on Father Ryan's dour-step till past +twelve o'clock wavin' an or'nge scarf, an' singin' 'Clitter Clatter, +Holy Watter.'" + +"Dear help us," said Lull. + +"'Deed, I'm sayin' it," said Teressa. "An when his riverence come out +to her it was nothin' but a hape of abuse, an' to hell wid the Pope, +that she give him." + +"That's forty shillin's an' costs if the polis heard her," said Patsy, +forgetting he was in hiding. + +Teressa jumped. "Lord love ye, did ye iver hear the like a' that?" she +said. "It's a wee ould man the chile is." + +"Be off wid ye, Patsy," said Lull; "what call has the likes a' yous to +know that?" But Patsy wanted to hear more. + +"What did Father Ryan say to her, Teressa?" he asked. + +"Troth, he tould her she'd be in hell herself before the Pope for all +her cursin'," said Teressa. + +"An' will she?" said Patsy. + +"As sure as an egg's mate," said Teressa. "If she doesn't give over +drinkin' the ould gentleman's comin' for her one of these fine nights +to take her aff wid him." + +"Does she know when he's comin'?" Patsy asked. + +"Not her, the black-mouthed Protestant divil," said Teressa. + +"Whist!" said Lull, "that's no talk before the chile." + +"And a fine child he is," said Teressa, "an' a fine man he'll be makin' +one a' these days." + +But Patsy had heard enough, and was off to tell the others. They were +playing in the schoolroom when he brought the news. Mrs M'Rea was +drunk again, and had cursed the Pope on Father Ryan's doorstep, and the +devil was coming to take her away if she did not stop drinking. It was +bitter news, for Mrs M'Rea kept the one sweetie shop in the village. + +"I'll go an' see her," said Jane. + +"What good'll that do?" said Mick. + +"I'll tell her the divil's comin'," said Jane. + +"She won't heed ye," said Mick. + +"I know," said Fly, who had said nothing so far but had been thinking +seriously; "let's send her a message from the divil to tell her to give +over or he'll come for her." + +This plan commended itself to the others as a brilliant solution of a +difficulty. Mrs M'Rea had been known to see devils and rats before +when she was drunk--they had only been dancing devils, and had come to +no good purpose that the children knew of--she would, therefore, be +quite prepared for another visit, and a devil with a warning would have +to be taken seriously. It was well worth trying, for Mrs M'Rea, in +spite of her drunken habits and the fact that she was a turncoat--had +been born a Roman Catholic, and had married into the other camp--was a +great favourite with the children. She often gave them sweets when +they had not a farthing between them to pay. + +As the idea was hers Fly was to go with the message. Mick raked down a +handful of soot from the chimney, and rubbed her face and hands till +they were black, then dressed her in a pair of old bathing-drawers and +a black fur cape. Patsy got the pitchfork from the stable for her to +carry in her hand. + +Fly started off for the village. The others waited patiently for her +to come back. She was gone nearly two hours, and came back wet to the +skin, and frightened at the success of her mission. + +"Go on; tell us right from the start," said Jane. + +"Well, when I got outside the gate who should I meet but Teressa goin' +home, so I just dodged down behind her, an' barked--an' she tuk to her +heels, an' run the whole way. An' when we come to the village I hid +behind a tree, an' then I dodged round to Mrs M'Rea's. The door was +shut, so I knocked with the pitchfork. Sez she: 'Who's there?' Sez I: +'Come out a' that, Mrs M'Rea.' Sez she: 'What would I be doin' that +for?' 'Because,' sez I, 'it's the divil himself come to see ye, Mrs +M'Rea.'" + +"But ye wern't to be the divil," Jane interrupted. "Ye were only one +of his wee divils." + +"I clean forgot," said Fly; "'deed, indeed, I clean forgot. An' oh, +Jane, I wisht ye'd seen her. She opened the dour, and when she seen me +she give a yell, an' went down on her knees, an' began prayin' like +mad. I danced round, an' poked her with the pitchfork, an', sez I: +'I'll larn ye to curse the Pope, Mrs M'Rea, ye black-mouthed ould +Protestant,'--that's what Teressa said, wasn't it, Patsy? 'Look here, +my girl,' sez I, 'I'm comin' for ye at twelve the night, so see an' be +ready.' An' with that she give another big yell, an' run in an' shut +the dour, an' I could hear her cryin'. An' oh, Jane, Jane, I've scared +the very sowl out of her." And Fly began to cry too. + +"Ye've just spoilt it all, Fly," said Jane. "The divil wasn't to be +goin' to come for her on'y if she wouldn't give over drinkin'." + +Fly shivered, and sobbed. + +"Yes, ye jackass; an' how can we take her away at twelve?" said Mick. + +"An' if we don't she won't believe it was the divil," said Patsy. + +But Fly only shivered, and sobbed the more. + +"Look here," said Jane, "she'll be sick if we don't dry her." So they +all went upstairs, and Fly was washed, and dressed in her own clothes, +and sent down to sit by the kitchen fire, having first sworn to cut her +throat if she let out one word to Lull. Then the four went back to the +schoolroom to think the matter over. + +"We can't have Mrs M'Rea goin' round sayin' the divil tould her a lie," +said Jane. + +"An' we can't have her sittin' there all night scared to death," said +Mick. + +"We'll have to send her another message," said Jane. + +"Another divil?" said Patsy. + +"No," said Jane; "it must be some person from heaven this time to tell +her that if she'll quit drinkin' the divil won't be let come!" + +They agreed that this was the only plan; but who was it to be? "I'll +be the Blessed Virgin," said Jane; "there's mother's blue muslin dress +in the nursery cupboard, an' I can have the wax flowers out of the +glass shade in my hair." + +"But Mrs M'Rea's a Protestant," Mick objected, "an' what would she care +for the Blessed Virgin?" + +"Let's send a ghost of Mister M'Rea," said Patsy. But here again there +was a difficulty, for Mr M'Rea could only have come from purgatory--and +who would have let him out? + +"Is there niver a Protestant saint?" said Mick. + +"Not a one but King William," said Jane. + +"An' he's the very ould boy," Mick shouted, and upstairs they ran to +search for suitable clothes. Jane begged to be King William; but by +the time she was dressed it was dark, and she was afraid to go alone, +so Mick and Patsy went with her. + +Honeybird was sent downstairs to the kitchen to wait with Fly till they +came back, and if Lull asked where they were she was not to tell. When +they dropped out of the dressing-room window into the garden the rain +was over. The wind now chased the clouds in wild shapes across the +sky, now piled them up to hide the moon. The children crept along the +road, terrified that they might meet Sandy M'Glander, the ghost with +the wooden leg, or see Raw Head and Bloody Bones ride by on his black +horse. When they reached Mrs M'Rea's cottage all was in darkness, but +they could hear through the door the crying that had frightened Fly. + +"Hide quick yous two," said Jane; "I'm goin' to knock." + +There was a yell of terror from inside. + +"It's all right, Mrs M'Rea," said Jane; "come out, I want to speak to +ye." + +"Who are ye?" said Mrs M'Rea. + +"Sure, I'm King William, of Glorious, Pious, an' Immortal memory, come +to save ye from the divil." + +They heard Mrs M'Rea fumbling with the latch, and then the door opened. +Jane stood up straight, and, as luck would have it, the clouds parted, +and the moon shone bright on King William in an old hunting-coat +stuffed out with pillows, a pair of white-frilled knickerbockers, and a +top hat with a peacock's feather in it. + +"God help us," said Mrs M'Rea, "but the quare things do happen." + +"Ay; an' quarer things will happen if yer don't give over drinkin', Mrs +M'Rea," said King William. "Fine goin's-on these are when dacent +people can't rest in heaven for the likes a' you and yer vagaries." + +"It's Himself," said Mrs M'Rea, and got down on her knees. + +"If it hadn't been for me meeting the divil this evenin' ye'd have been +in hell by this time; but sez I to him, sez I: 'Give her another +chance,' sez I." + +"God save us," sobbed Mrs M'Rea. + +"An' sez he: 'No.' Do ye hear what I'm sayin', Mrs M'Rea? Sez he: +'No; the black-mouthed Protestant, she cursed the Pope, and waved an +or'nge scarf, on Father's Ryan's dourstep,' sez he." + +"Whist!" said a warning voice round the corner, "King William's a +Protestant." + +"What do I care about Protestants?" shouted King William, getting +excited. "If I didn't know ye for a dacent woman I'd 'a' let the divil +have ye; but sez I to myself, sez I: 'Where would the childer be +without their wee sweetie shop?'" + +Jane was losing her head. The whispers round the corner began again. +King William took no notice, but went on: "An' he'll let you off this +wanst, Mrs M'Rea; but ye'll go down first thing in the mornin', an' +take the pledge with Father Ryan." + +"Did yer honour say Father Ryan?" gasped Mrs "M'Rea. + +"'Deed, I did; an' who else would I be sayin'?" said King William. + +"But I'm a Protestant, yer honour," said Mrs M'Rea. + +"So ye are; an' I'm tellin' ye, Mrs M'Rea, ye'll be sorry for it. +Sure, there's niver a Protestant in heaven but myself, an' me got in by +the skin a' my teeth. There's nothin' but rows an' rows a' Popes +there. Sure, there's many the time I be sorry for ye when I hear ye +down here shoutin' 'Clitter clatter' an' wearin' or'nge scarfs when I +know where ye're goin' through it." + +"Och-a-nee, an' me knew no better," said Mrs M'Rea. + +"Ye did know better wanst, an' ye know better again now. Go down to +Father Ryan, an' take the pledge; an' let me hear no more about it, or +it'll not be tellin' ye, for divil a fut I'll stir out of heaven again +for you or anybuddy else." Mrs M'Rea was rocking to and fro on her +knees. The clouds once more hid the moon, and in the darkness Mick and +Patsy seized King William, and hurried her away. + +"Ye very near spoilt it all," said Mick. + +"But I didn't," said Jane. "Let's hide, an' see what she'll do." + +Mrs M'Rea only got up from her knees, and went into the cottage, and +shut the door. It was late when they got home. Jane crept upstairs, +and changed her clothes before she went into the kitchen for supper. + +Next morning Teressa came with the strange news that Mrs M'Rea had been +converted, and had been to Father Ryan to take the pledge. "Small +wonder, for the divil himself come to see her," said Teressa. "An' +sure, I seen him myself wid me own two eyes. As I was goin' home last +night who should come after me but a black baste wid the ugliest face +on him ye iver seen. An' it wasn't long after that the neighbours +heard her yellin' 'Murder!' She sez herself that he come to her as +bould as brass, like a wee ould black man, an' poked holes in her wid a +fiery fork, an' by strake a' dawn she was down at Father Ryan's tellin' +him she was converted. An' not a drop of drink on her. An' the whole +parish is callogueing wid her now. But she houlds to it that King +William's a great saint in glory." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +UNDER THE SHADOW OF THE MOUNTAINS + +Rowallan was an old, rambling house that stood in a wilderness of weeds +and trees under the shadow of the Mourne Mountains. It was a house +with a strange name; people said it was never free from sorrow. Others +went so far as to say there was a curse on the place, and many went +miles out of their way rather than pass the big gates after dark, and +crossed themselves when they passed them in broad daylight. There was +not a man or woman in the countryside who could not have given you the +reason for this feeling about Rowallan. Anyone could have told you +that the master had been murdered not five years ago at his own gates. +Most of them could have told how his father before him had died on the +same spot--died cursing a son and daughter who had turned to be Roman +Catholics. And in some of the cottages there still lived a man or a +woman old enough to remember the master before that: a bad man, for he +had believed in neither God nor devil, and had broken his neck, riding +home one night full of drink, at the gates. God save us! was it any +wonder people were afraid to pass them? The present, too, had its own +share of sorrow. The children, they would tell you, lived almost +alone; there was no one to take care of them but two old servants, both +over sixty, for the mistress, though still alive, was a broken-hearted +woman, who had never left her room since her husband's death. This +they might have told a stranger, but no one would have dreamt of +telling the children these tales about their home. They, though they +had friends in every cottage, had never heard one word of either +haunting sorrow or curse. It is true that sometimes, coming home in +the evening from a long day's expedition across the mountains, they +felt a strange sense of depression when they came to the big iron +gates. For no reason, it seemed, a foreboding of calamity chilled +their spirits, and sent them, at a run, up the avenue into the house to +the warm shelter of the kitchen, to be assured by Lull's cheerful +presence that their mother had not died in their absence, and life was +still happy. + +There were five of them: Mick, Jane, Fly, Patsy, and Honeybird. The +tales people told of their home were not the strangest part of their +history. Their father had been a man hated by his own class for his +broad and generous views at a time when the whole country was +disturbed, and loved by his poorer neighbours for the same reason. He +had been murdered by a terrible mistake. It was not the master, +Michael Darragh, but his Roman Catholic brother Niel, the murderer had +meant to kill. Niel Darragh, when he and his sister had been driven +out of their father's house for their religious views, had taken a farm +about a mile from Rowallan, and it was over his title to this farm the +quarrel had arisen that had ended in the master being murdered, +mistaken in the dark for his brother. The children's mother was an +Englishwoman, who came of an old Puritan stock, and had married against +the wishes of her family. Her husband's death was God's judgment for +her wickedness, she thought. She had never recovered from the shock of +the murder, and was only able to move with Lull's help from her bed to +a couch by the window, and she was so entirely occupied with her own +troubles that she often forgot the children existed. So it came that +they were being brought up by Lull, their father's old nurse, and Andy +Graham, the coachman. Lull had so much else to do, with all the work +of the house, and an invalid mistress to wait on, that the children +were left to come and go as they pleased. Twice a week they went to +old Mr Rannigan, the rector, for lessons, but on other days they roamed +for miles over the country, making friends at every cottage they +passed. When they came home in the evening Lull was always waiting +with supper by the kitchen fire, ready to hear their adventures, to +sympathise or reprove as she saw fit. So long as they were well fed +and clothed, and did nothing Quality would be ashamed of, she said she +was content. Days spent on the mountains, fishing in some brown +stream, helping an old peasant to herd his cow, or watching a woman +spin by her door, taught the children more than they learnt from Mr +Rannigan. They brought back to Lull stories of ghosts, Orange and +Papist, who fought by night on the bridge that had once been slippery +with their blood; of the devil's strange doings in the mountains: how +he had bitten a piece out of one--the marks of his teeth showed to this +day; or milder tales of fairy people--leprachauns, and the fiddlers +whose music only the good could hear. Lull believed them all, crossed +herself at the mention of ghosts and devil--her own mother had seen +fairies dancing on the rocks one day as she was coming home from +school. Lull herself, though she had never seen anything, had heard +the banshee wailing round the house the night the master's mother died. +The children were sure Lull could have heard the fairy fiddlers if she +would have come with them to the right place up the mountains; she was +good enough to hear it--they knew that. + +Lull was a good old woman. The children were right; she was never +cross, but always loving and kind, always ready to help them whatever +they might want. Any spare minute she had was spent at her beads, and +often while she worked they could tell by her lips she was saying her +prayers. Blessed saints and holy angels filled her world, and her +tales, if they were not of the days when she first came to Rowallan, +were about these wonderful beings. They were far better than fairies, +she said; for the best of fairies were mischievous at times, but the +saints could be depended on. But the children thought her tales about +their home were even more interesting than tales of the saints. + +There was a time, she said, when the dilapidated old house and garden +had been the finest in Ireland. When she came to Rowallan, a slip of a +girl, more than forty years ago, there had been no less than seven +gardeners about the place. Ould Davy, who worked in the kitchen garden +now, was all that was left of them. Now the house was falling to +pieces, great patches of damp discoloured the walls, and most of the +rooms were shut up; but Lull had seen the day when all was light and +colour, when the rooms were filled with guests, and the children, who +slept in the nursery then, had heard the rustle of silk dresses, not +the scamper of rats, on the stairs at night. The children could see, +when they opened the shutters in the disused drawing-room, how +beautiful everything had been then, though the yellow damask, the satin +chairs, and the big sconces on the wall were faded, moth-eaten, and +dusty now. And in the garden, where Lull's thoughts loved to dwell on +the flowers she had seen--lupins, phlox, roses, pinks, bachelor's +buttons, and more whose names she had forgotten, that had fought others +for leave to grow, she said--a strange flower would now and again push +its way up through weeds and grass to witness that her tales were true. +Lull always ended her talks as she rose to take the children off to +bed, with a promise that all would come back again, that one fine day +their ship would come in. + +Andy Graham, in the stable, said the same thing. On Sunday mornings, +when they watched him getting ready to take them to church, he would +say, as he put on the old top hat and faded blue coat that were his +livery: "Troth, the day'll come when I'll not be wispin' hay round me +head to keep on a hat that was made for a man twiced me size, an' it's +more than an ould coat that has only one tail to it I'll be wearin'. +I'll be the smartest lad in Ireland, with livery to me legs forby, when +yer fortune comes back to yez all again." + +This hopeful view of the future, a romantic fiction half believed by +Lull and Andy themselves, was taken quite seriously by the children. +They imagined their home was under some kind of enchantment that would +one day be broken. It was true Lull had told them the present state of +Rowallan was God's will, and Andy said God alone knew when their +fortune would come back; but the children, whose mind held fairies, +saints, banshees, and angels, and their mother's Puritan God, had no +difficulty in reconciling God's will and an enchantment. One thing had +helped to confirm this belief. Mick and Jane remembered the night +their father died--it was the night Honeybird was born--and, thinking +back over it now, they were sure they had heard the incantation that +had wrought the spell. They had been waked by a noise, a muttering, +and a tramp of feet on the gravel beneath the nursery window. They had +been frightened, for Lull was not in the nursery, and when they ran out +into the passage to call her they saw their mother standing in a white +dress at the top of the stairs and a crowd of strange faces in the hall +below. That was all they had seen, for someone had pushed them back +into the nursery, and locked them in, but they had heard shrieks and +horrible laughter through the night. No one knew when the spell would +be broken, but when the one fine day did come the children believed +that in some mysterious way the house would shake off its air of ruin +and decay; the six gardeners would come back to join ould Davy, who, +though he was so cross, had been faithful all these years; the horses +and carriages and dogs that Andy remembered would return; their mother +would come downstairs; and, perhaps, their father would come to life +again, if he were really dead, and had not been whipped away to some +remote island, they thought it was quite possible, till the time when +the enchantment would cease. + +Their chief reason for looking with joy to this day was that then their +mother would be quite well, and their anxiety about her would be over. +Twice a day they went to her room--to bid her good-morning and +good-night. Then she read them a chapter from the Bible, and made them +promise to say their prayers. From her they got their ideas of God's +terrible judgments, and of the Last Day, when the heavens would roll +back like a scroll, and they would be caught up in the clouds. Jane +was afraid it might happen when she was bathing some day, and she would +be caught up in her bare skin. She always put her boots and stockings +under her pillow when she went to bed, in case it came like a thief in +the night. Occasionally Mrs Darragh was well enough to forget her own +trouble, and then she would keep the children with her, and tell them +stories of the time when she was a child. These were the children's +happiest days. They would sit on the floor round her sofa, listening, +fascinated by her description of a life so unlike their own. Their +mother, like a child in a book, had never gone outside the garden gates +without her nurse, and they laughed at the difference between their +life and hers. She never went fishing, and brought home enough fish to +feed her family for three days; she never tramped for miles over +mountains or spent whole days catching glasen off the rocks. The +country she had lived in had been different, too--a red-roofed village, +where every cottage had a garden neat and trim, and all the children +had rosy cheeks and tidy yellow hair. But on their mother's bad days, +when she remembered another past, they would creep to her door, and +listen with troubled faces to her wild talk of sins and punishment, and +hear her praying for forgiveness and death. Their love for their +mother was a passionate devotion, and through it came the only real +trouble they knew--they were afraid that God would answer her prayer, +and take her from them. So her bad days came to mean days of black +misery for them, when they spent their time beseeching God not to take +her prayers seriously: it was only because she was ill that she thought +she wanted to die, and would have changed her mind by the morning. If +after one of these bad days a stormy night followed, misery changed to +terror. On such a night the Banshee had wailed for their grandmother, +and if they heard her now it would be for a sign that their mother must +die too. + +Lull would do her best to comfort them. "Banshee daren't set fut in +the garden, or raise wan skirl of a cry, after all the prayers yez have +been sayin'," she would tell them. But when she left them it was only +to go to the kitchen fire and pray against the same fear herself. But, +apart from this shadow, that often lifted for weeks at a time, their +life was very happy. Mick, the eldest, was twelve years old, and +Honeybird was five; the others, Jane, Fly, and Patsy, came between. +The two eldest, Mick and Jane, led the others, though Fly and Patsy +criticised their leaders' opinions when they saw fit; Honeybird was +content to blindly obey. After one of their good days they would go to +bed in the big nursery, sure that no children in the world were so +content. When there was no frightening wind in the trees they could +hear through the open window the sea across the fields. "It's a quare, +good world," Jane would mutter sleepily; and Fly would reply: "The +sea's the nicest ould thing in it; you'd think it was hooshin' us to +sleep"; and then Patsy's voice would come from the dressing-room: +"Mebby it's bringin' our ship in to us." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +JANE'S CONVERSION + +On Sunday morning the children went to church by themselves. They +would rather have gone to Mass with Lull in the Convent Chapel, but +Lull said they were Protestants. Everybody else was a Roman +Catholic--Uncle Niel, Aunt Mary, Andy Graham, even ould Davy, though he +never went to Mass. + +None of the children liked going to church; they went to please Lull. +The service was long and dull, and though each one of them had a +private plan to while away the time they found it very tedious. + +Jane was the luckiest, for under the carpet in the corner where she +sat--Jane and Mick sat in the front pew--there was a fresh crop of +fungi every Sunday; all prayer-time she was occupied in scraping it off +with a pin. Honeybird came next; she had collected all the spare +hassocks into the second pew, and played house under the seat. So long +as they made no noise they felt they were behaving well, for old Mr +Rannigan, the rector, was nearly blind, and could not see what they +were doing. Sometimes Mick followed the service in the big +prayer-book, just for the fun of hearing Mr Rannigan making mistakes +when he lost his place or fell asleep, as he did one Sunday in the +middle of a prayer, and woke up with a start, and prayed for our +Sovereign Lord King William. + +Fly played that she was a princess, but she always stopped pretending +when the Litany came. Not that she understood the strange petitions, +but she felt when she had repeated them all that there was no calamity +left that had not been prayed against. + +The sermon was the most wearisome part for them all. When the text was +given out Jane read the Bible. Nebuchadnezzar was her favourite +character. She pictured the fun he must have had prancing round in the +grass playing he was a horse or a cow. Mick read the hymn-book, Fly +fell in love with the prince whom she saved up for the sermon, while +Patsy and Honeybird built a ship of hassocks, and sailed as pirates to +unknown seas. + +One Sunday morning they had just settled themselves in their +seats--Jane had discovered what looked like a mushroom under the +carpet, and was waiting for the general confession that she might see +if it would peel--when the vestry door opened, and, instead of the +familiar little figure in a surplice trailing on the ground, that had +tottered in as long as the children could remember, a strange clergyman +came in. He began the service in a loud voice that startled them, and +read the prayers so quickly that the people were on their feet again +before Jane had half peeled the mushroom. + +When he came to the Psalms he glared at the children till Jane thought +he was going to scold her for not reading too. She had not listened to +hear what morning of the month it was, but she got so frightened that +she had to pretend to be reading by opening and shutting her mouth. +But it was worse when he came to the sermon. Jane, who had not dared +to go back once to the mushroom, but had followed his movements all +through the service, saw with horror when he went into the pulpit that +Patsy and Honeybird had forgotten that he was not Mr Rannigan, and were +stowing away all the books they could reach in the hold of their pirate +ship. She reached over the back of the pew to poke Honeybird, but at +that moment a loud voice startled her. + +"Except ye be converted ye shall all likewise perish," the clergyman +said. Then, fixing his eyes on a thin woman, who sat near the pulpit, +he repeated the text in a louder tone. + +"Do you know what that means?" he said, pointing to Miss Green. "It +means that you will go to hell." + +"What has she done?" Jane wondered. But the preacher had turned round, +and was pointing to old Mr Byers. "You will go to hell," he said. +Then he looked round the church. Jane saw that Patsy and Honeybird +were sitting on their seats watching him. + +"You will go to hell," he said again. This time he picked out Mrs +Maxwell. Jane waited, expecting he would tell them some awful sins +these three had committed. But after a long pause he said: "Everyone +seated before me this morning will go to hell." + +A chill seemed to have fallen on the congregation. Patsy said +afterwards he thought the devil was waiting outside with a long car to +drive them off at once. "Except ye be converted," the preacher added. + +He went on to describe what hell was like, and told them a story of a +godless death-bed he had stood beside, where he had heard the sinner's +groans of remorse--useless then, for God had said he must perish. +Jane's eyes never for a moment wandered from the man's face. Even when +he turned to her she still looked at him, though she was cold with +fear. "The young too will perish except they be converted," he said. + +At last the sermon came to an end. The children went out to the porch +to wait for the car. But the sermon had been so long that Andy Graham +was waiting for them. The others ran down the path, but Jane turned +back, and went into the church. All the people had gone. The strange +clergyman was just coming through the vestry door. Jane went up to +him. "I want to get converted," she said; "quick, for Andy Graham's +waitin'." + +"Pray to God, and He will give you an assurance that your sins are +forgiven," the clergyman said. + +"Come on, Jane," Patsy shouted at the porch door. + +"Thank ye," said Jane, and went out to the car. + +On Sunday afternoon they generally weeded Patsy's garden or played with +the rabbits, but this day Jane went up to the nursery the minute dinner +was over. Fly, who was sent up by Mick to tell her to come out, found +the door locked. + +"Who's there?" said Jane. + +"It's me; Mick wants ye," said Fly. + +"I can't come." + +"What're ye doin'?" + +"Mind yer own business," was the reply. + +"Let me in; I want a hanky," said Fly. + +There was no answer, but as Fly went on trying to turn the handle and +banging at the door it suddenly opened, and Jane faced her. + +"Can't ye go away ar that an' quit botherin' me?" she said. + +"What're ye doin'?" said Fly, trying to look round the door, but Jane +slammed it in her face. + +"If ye don't go away I'll give ye the right good thumpin'," she said. +Fly went downstairs. + +At tea Jane appeared with a grave face. + +"We'll play church after tea," she said, "an' I'll be the preacher." + +They arranged the chairs for pews. Patsy rang the dinner bell. Fly +was the organist, and played on the table. Jane leant over the back of +an arm-chair to preach. + +"Mind ye," she said, "I'm not making fun. I'm converted, an' ye've all +got to get converted too, or ye'll go to hell for iver and iver. An' +ye can't think about for iver an' iver, for it's for iver, an' then +it's for iver after that, till it hurts yer head to go on thinkin' any +more. We'll all have to quit bein' bad, an' niver fight any more an' +tell no lies an' niver think a cross word, an' if we say our prayers +God'll give us an insurance, an' then we'll be good for iver after." + +Then she read a chapter out of the Bible. But it was not a part the +others liked--about Daniel or Joseph or Moses and the plagues--it was a +chapter of Revelation. They listened patiently to that, but when Jane +said she was going to pray Patsy got up. + +"I'm tired," he said, "an' I don't want to get converted. I don't +believe that ould boy knowed what he was talkin' about. Andy Graham +said he was bletherin' when I told him about us all goin' to hell." + +Fly and Honeybird said they wanted to paint, so Jane came out of the +pulpit. + +"Ye'll just have to get converted by yer own selves," she said, "for +I'm not goin' to help ye any more." + +When they went to bed Jane read the Bible to herself, and was such a +long time saying her prayers that Fly thought she had gone to sleep, +and tried to wake her. + +"I'm niver goin' to be cross any more," she said as she got into bed. + +The next day was wet, so wet that Lull would not allow them to go out. +Jane began the morning by making clothes for Bloody Mary, Honeybird's +doll. But Honeybird would have the clothes made as she liked. Though +Jane tried to persuade her that Bloody Mary had worn a ruff and not a +bustle Honeybird insisted on the bustle, and would not have the ruff. +At last Jane said she would make the clothes her own way or not at all. + +"Then ye needn't make them at all," said Honeybird, picking up Bloody +Mary, and going out of the room. + +When she got to the door she added, over her shoulder: +"Girney-go-grabby, the cat's cousin," and ran. + +But Jane was at her heels, and caught her at the foot of the stairs. +She pulled Bloody Mary from under Honeybird's arm. + +"I'll make a ruff, an' sew it on tight," she said grimly. + +Honeybird began to cry. Jane was just going to give her back the doll +when Fly appeared at the top of the stairs, and looked over the +banisters. + +"Let her alone," said Fly. + +"Shut up," said Jane. + +"I thought ye were converted," said Fly. In a minute Jane was at the +top of the stairs, and slaps and howls told that Fly's remark was +answered. + +There was nothing Fly hated so much as being slapped. If they had +fought properly, and she had been beaten, she would not have minded so +much, but when Jane slapped her she felt she was degraded. + +Having punished her Jane walked slowly downstairs. When she got to the +last step she looked up. Fly spat over the banister. + +"Cat!" Jane yelled running up the stairs again two at a time; but Fly +raced down the passage, and was just in time to shut and lock the +nursery door in Jane's face. + +"All right, me girl," Jane shouted through the keyhole. "You wait an' +see what ye'll get when ye come out." + +"I'm not coming out," said Fly, "I'm goin' to see what ye've got in yer +drawer." + +Jane went down to the schoolroom. No one was there. Honeybird had +gone to play in the kitchen. She sat down, with her elbows on the +table, her head in her hands. + +"It wasn't my fault," she muttered--"I didn't want to fight--but I'll +kill her now when I catch her. I don't care. God had no business to +let her spit at me, an' I will just kill her." + +Soon she heard Fly coming downstairs, and got under the table to wait +for her. Fly pushed the door open, looked in, then came in, and shut +the door behind her. She went up to the bookcase, and was looking for +a book when, with a yell of fury, Jane pounced on her. Jane thumped on +Fly's back and Fly tore Jane's hair. They rolled over on the ground, +biting and thumping, till Jane was on the top. She held Fly down, and +very deliberately slapped her, counting the slaps out loud, six times +on each hand. "That's for spittin'," she said as she got up. + +Fly sobbed on the floor. Lull came in to lay the table for dinner. + +"'Deed, ye ought to be ashamed a' yerselves," she said, "fightin' like +Kilkenny cats. What would yer mother say if she heard ye?" + +Jane banged out of the schoolroom, and out of the house. She went +across the yard to the stables, climbed up into the loft, and threw +herself down on a bundle of hay. + +Lull called her to come in to dinner, but she did not move. Mick and +Patsy came out to look for her. After a few minutes she heard them go +back into the house. When all was quiet again she sat up. "I'll go to +hell," she said--"an' I don't care a bit. I wisht I was dead." She +had thought only yesterday, when she was converted, and had been all +warm and happy inside, that God would never let her fight any more. +But God had failed her. He had allowed her to fight the very next day. + +"He might 'a' made me good when I ast Him," she muttered. "I hate +fightin'; but I can't help it, an' now I'll niver be good." + +By-and-by she heard Honeybird at the kitchen door. "Janie, come in," +she was calling, "there's awful nice pancakes for pudden." Jane didn't +want the pancakes; she wanted very much to go in, and be happy, but +something held her. "Come on in, Jane," Honeybird called. "Fly's +awful sorry she spit at ye." Honeybird called once more, then Jane +heard the kitchen door shut. + +"It's the divil," she muttered; "he won't let me be good." In a burst +of despair she beat her head against the wall till she fell back +exhausted on the hay. + +The next thing she heard--she must have been asleep--was the tea bell +ringing. Still she did not go in, but when the loft began to get dark +she was so frightened that she crept down the ladder, and went into the +kitchen. There was no one in the kitchen but Lull. + +"Och, now ye'll be sick if ye cry like that," said Lull. "Sit down +here by the fire, an' have a drop milk an' a bit a' soda bread." + +But Jane could not eat. She managed to swallow the milk, then as Lull +stroked her rough hair she began to cry again. + +"Whisht, whisht, chile dear," Lull said; "sure, ye can't help fightin' +now an' then. Come on upstairs, an' have a nice hot bath, an' go to +yer bed, an' ye'll be as good as Saint Patrick in the mornin'." + +When the others came to bed she was asleep, but she woke before they +were undressed. + +"I'm sorry I was cross," she said. + +"So am I," said Fly. + +"Ye were just as cross as I was yerself," Jane said sharply. + +"That's what I mane," said Fly. + +"Then ye should say what ye mane," said Jane. "Ye just want to make me +fight again." + +"'Deed, I don't," Fly began. + +But Jane threw back the clothes, and jumped out of bed. "There!" she +said, "ye've done it. Ye've made me cross again." + +Fly and Honeybird both began to cry. They got undressed, crying all +the time. When they were ready for bed Fly said: "Aren't ye goin' to +get into bed, Jane?" + +"No!" said Jane. + +"But ye'll catch yer death a' cold," said Fly. + +"I just wisht I could," said Jane. She sat down on the floor by the +window. + +"I'll just sit here till I die," she said, "an' then I'll go to hell." + +Fly and Honeybird began to howl. The boys came in from the +dressing-room. + +"What's the matter?" said Mick. + +"I'm goin' to hell," said Jane; "I can't help it. I don't want to go, +but Fly makes me fight. She's sendin' me to hell, an' I'll just sit +here till I'm dead." + +Mick begged her to get back into bed. Fly and Honeybird sobbed and +shivered. "Don't go to hell, Jane," they pleaded; "get into bed, an' +we'll niver make ye cross any more." + +But Jane shook her head. "I'm goin'; I can't help it," she said. + +Patsy looked at her. + +"Let her go if she wants to," he said, "I'm goin' to sleep." He went +back into the dressing-room. Jane looked after him, and then began to +laugh. + +"I declare to my goodness I'm an ould divil myself," she said, "makin' +ye all miserable." She got up, and kissed them all. + +"An I'll make Bloody Mary a bustle in the mornin'," she said as she got +into bed. + +"I think I'd rather have a ruff," said Honeybird. + +Next Sunday Mr Rannigan was at church. When he gave out his text Jane +looked at him. "Brethren, it is my duty to preach the simple gospel," +he began, and Jane opened the Bible at Nebuchadnezzar. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A DAY OF GROWTH + +Fly sat on the wall in the wood at the back of the garden simmering +with excitement. Two wonderful things had happened to her, each of +which by itself would have been enough to make her happy for a week. +First, she had got a letter in the morning addressed to herself. She +was so pleased that she did not think of opening it till Jane took it +from her. The inside, however, was still more delightful. Somebody +called Janette Black said she had a little present for Fly, and was +bringing it to Rowallan that afternoon. Lull said Miss Black was Fly's +godmother. She used to live at Rose Cottage years ago, but for a long +time she had been away in Dublin. Fly was too much excited to eat her +breakfast. The others as they watched her dancing round the room could +not help being a little bit envious at her good fortune. They had +never heard of anybody before, except Cinderella, who had had a visit +from a godmother. Their godmothers were all dead, or away in England. +Fly in her happiness had a pang of regret that she could not share this +delightful relative with the others. She said she would share the +gift. She had thought that morning would never pass. Lull was getting +the drawing-room ready for the visitor, and once or twice she had +warned Fly that she might be disappointed. + +"I wouldn't marvel if she niver come near the place at all," she said. +"She's a bird-witted ould lady, an' niver in the wan way a' thinkin' +two minutes thegether." But Fly could not have been calm if she had +tried. She had spent her time going backwards and forwards to look at +the kitchen clock. Now the time had come, dinner was over, Fly had her +clean pinafore on, the godmother was, perhaps, already in the house, +but Fly was so busy thinking of something else that she had almost +forgotten her. The second wonderful thing had happened. There were +days, Fly told herself, when things took jumps--when, instead of +growing up at the usual pace, so slow you could not feel it, something +happened that made you older and richer and cleverer all in a minute. +To-day life had taken two jumps. As she was sitting there quietly on +the wall, thinking only of her godmother, a big yellow cat had come out +of the wood. Everybody at Rowallan hated cats--they were deadly +enemies, poachers, and destroyers. Andy had been in trouble for the +past week over the wickedness of a cat who, night after night, had been +at the rabbits in his traps. Rabbits were a source of income to +Rowallan, and it was a serious matter when six rabbits were destroyed +in one night. Fly had been in the kitchen that morning when Andy came +in to tell Lull his trouble. + +"I niver seen the cat that could get the better av me afore," he said +dejectedly. "I'm thinkin' I'm gettin' too ould for this game." Fly +remembered this as she watched the cat coming towards her through the +wood. If only Andy were there now with his gun. It was a terrible +pity that such a chance should be lost. She sat quite still, waiting +to see what the cat would do. It never seemed to notice her, but came +boldly on, with no sense of shame, straight towards her, till it was +beneath her feet. The wall was high, and the cat had jumped before Fly +realised that it meant to use her legs as a ladder to the top. +Indignation on Andy's account now gave place to wild rage at personal +injury. The cat's claws were in her leg. She kicked it off, then, +quick as thought, seized a big flat stone off the top of the wall, and +dropped it on the cat's neck. The yellow head bowed, and without a +sound the body rolled over on the grass. Fly saw that she had killed +it. Her heart jumped for joy. She could hardly believe she had really +done this wonderful thing. Andy's enemy lay dead at her feet, struck +down by her unerring aim. What would the others say? What would Andy +say? How they would all praise her! She felt that God had helped her. +It must be He who had brought the cat within her reach and given her +power to kill it with one blow of a stone. Honeybird's voice called +from the garden. Fly gave a little gasp--her heart was beating so +quickly with excitement. To find a godmother and to kill a cat in one +day!--had anybody else ever had such happiness? She got down from the +wall, and took the dead cat in her arms. She must go to the godmother +now, and wait till she had gone before she could tell the others. +There was nobody at home to tell except Honeybird, for Jane had gone +with Andy on the car to bring Mick and Patsy home from school. She +would hide the cat in the stables, she thought, and when the others +came home she would produce it dramatically, and see what they would +do. On the way through the garden she met Honeybird coming to find her. + +"She's come," said Honeybird, "in a wee donkey carriage an' a furry +cloak; but I'm feared she's got nuthin' with her, 'cause I walked all +round her to see." + +Fly held up the cat. "I've just kilt it with wan blow av a stone," she +said. + +"Well done you," said Honeybird joyfully. "Bad auld divil," addressing +the dead cat, "what for did ye eat the neck out a' Andy's rabbits?" +Then her tone changed. "Give him to me, Fly, to play feeneral with. +Sure, you've got a godmother, an' I've got nuthin' at all." Fly had +not the heart to refuse. She gave Honeybird the dead cat, but +explained that she must be allowed to dig it up again to show it to +Andy. Then she ran quickly towards the house. A smell of pancakes +came from the kitchen. Lull was getting tea ready for the visitor. +Fly felt that life was richer than she had ever known it to be. At the +drawing-room door she paused to mutter a little prayer of thanksgiving. +She hardly knew what she had been expecting, but she was a little bit +disappointed when she opened the door and went in. Her godmother was +sitting on a sofa. She was a little woman, dressed in dull black; an +old-fashioned fur-lined cloak fell from her shoulders; a lace veil, +turned over her bonnet, hung down like a curtain behind. She wore +gloves several sizes too big for her, and the ends of the fingers were +twisted into spikes. But her voice pleased Fly's ear. She had been to +see Mrs Darragh, she said, but had only stayed a minute. In spite of +her disappointment there was something about the little lady that +attracted Fly's fancy. Her eyes were just the colour of the sea on a +clear, sunny day. She talked a good deal, holding Fly's hand and +patting it all the time. Fly did not understand much of what she +said--she mentioned so many people Fly had never heard of before. + +"You know you are my only god-child," she said; "when I die you shall +have all my money if you are a good girl." Fly thought this was very +kind, but she begged her godmother not to think of dying for years yet. +The little lady smiled. Then she began to talk again about people Fly +did not know, nodding and smiling as though it were all very funny. +Fly wondered when she would come to the gift. + +"There now, I've talked enough," she said at last. "Tell me all about +yourself and the other dear children now." + +Fly told her everything she could remember. Miss Black said "Yes, +yes," "How delightful," "How pleasant," but she did not seem to be +listening; her eyes were looking all round the room, and once she said +"How pleasant" when Fly was telling her about the time Patsy hurt his +foot. Fly was in the middle of the tale of Andy's trouble that morning +when Miss Black interrupted her. + +"You must come and see me, my dear, and bring the others with you, and +you shall make the acquaintance of my darling Phoebus." + +Here was another person Fly had never heard of. She wondered who he +could be. + +"Naughty darling Phoebus," Miss Black went on. "Oh, he has been so +naughty since we left Dublin. Out for hours by himself, frightening me +into fits. But he doesn't care how anxious I am." + +He must be her son, Fly thought; rather a horrid little boy to frighten +his mother like that. She asked Miss Black if he were her only child. + +Miss Black laughed. "He is, indeed, my darling only one; you must come +and see him. You will be sure to love him. He is not very fond of +children, but I shall tell him he must love you and not scratch." + +Fly thought she would not love him at all, but she was too polite to +say so. She wished Miss Black would say something about her present. +But Miss Black went on talking about Phoebus. She called him her +golden boy, her heart's delight and only treasure. Fly was rather +bewildered by this talk. It seemed to her that Phoebus must be a very +nasty little boy: he ate nothing but kidney and fish, his mother said, +and never a bite of bread with it. + +Lull brought in tea, and when Miss Black had finished her tea she +became silent. Fly did not like to speak. She thought her godmother +must be thinking of something important. She waited a little while, +then, as Miss Black continued silent, she cautiously introduced the +subject of godmothers. It might, perhaps, remind the little lady of +what her letter had promised. She told Miss Black about the other +children's godmothers, and how lucky the others thought she was to have +a godmother alive and in Ireland. Miss Black patted her hand absently, +and gazed round the room. + +"I know there is something I wanted to remember," she said at last. +Fly waited eagerly. She knew what it was, though, of course, she could +not say so. "I have it," said Miss Black. "I wanted to ask for a +rabbit for Phoebus. He has no appetite, these days. This morning he +touched nothing but his saucerful of cream. Do you think you could get +me a rabbit, my dear? Phoebus adores rabbit." + +"To be sure I can get ye wan," said Fly, swallowing her disappointment. +"I'll get ye wan to-morra from Andy." + +Miss Black got up to go. "That is kind of you," she said; "and, now +that I remember, I had a little gift for you, but I forgot to bring it. +Come to-morrow, and you shall have it. And don't forget the rabbit for +Phoebus." + +"I'll hould ye I'll not forgit," said Fly. "We've been havin' bad luck +this wee while back with the rabbits. Some ould cat's been spoilin' +them on us. But just a minute before you came I kilt the ould baste." +Fly looked for applause, but her godmother's attention had wandered +again. + +"How very pleasant," she said. Then suddenly she looked at Fly. "What +did you say, dear child?" + +"I said I kilt an ould thief of a cat," said Fly proudly. + +The godmother grasped her by the arm. "Killed a----" Her voice was +almost a scream. "Merciful heavens! what do you mean?" + +Fly was frightened. Her godmother seemed to have changed into another +person. She looked at Fly with burning eyes. + +"Wicked, wicked, cruel child!" + +"I couldn't help it," Fly stammered. "I done it by accident." Had she +all unconsciously done some awful thing? Surely everybody killed cats. +They were like rats--a plague to be exterminated. + +"What was it like?" demanded her godmother. + +"The nastiest-lukin' baste I iver set eyes on," said Fly earnestly. + +"If it had been Phoebus I think I should have killed you," said Miss +Black. + +Fly looked at her in a bewildered way. + +"You are quite sure it wasn't Phoebus--not my darling cat?" said her +godmother sternly. + +A horrid fear seized Fly. Phoebus was not a boy, he was a cat--surely, +surely not that yellow cat--such a thing would be too terrible. + +"Was it a large, dignified creature with yellow fur?" her godmother +questioned. + +"It was not," said Fly emphatically. "It was a wee, scraggy cat, black +all over, with a white spot on its tail." + +"Thank God for it," said Miss Black. "If it had been Phoebus I should +have died." + +Fly was shaking all over; she felt like a murderess. If only her +godmother knew the truth! It was, of course, hopeless to ask God to +make the cat alive again. The only thing was to get her godmother +safely away from Rowallan, and pray that she might never come back. +Anxiously she watched the lady go down the steps. The donkey carriage +was waiting. In another minute she would be gone; but, with her foot +on the step of the carriage, Miss Black paused. + +"I must see the garden; it was so pretty once, and I may never be back +again," she said. Fly led the way. The burden on her chest lifted a +little as she heard that her godmother would not be likely to come +again. It would not take long to see the garden, and then she would go +for ever. When they were half way down the path the garden gate +opened, and Honeybird came through, wheeling a barrow. She had Lull's +old crape bonnet on her head. Fly had a moment of sickening fright. + +"I'm comin' home from a feeneral," Honeybird called out cheerfully. +"I've just been buryin' my ould husband, an' now I'm a widdy woman." + +Fly breathed again: Phoebus was safely buried. + +"How very nice," said Miss Black. + +"Ye wouldn't say that if ye knowed who her husband was," Fly thought. + +"Would ye 'a' liked to be a mourner?" Honeybird asked, with a smile at +Miss Black. "'Cause if ye would I can dig him up, an' bury him again." + +Fly grimaced at her in an agony of terror. "Lull wants ye this very +minute," she said hurriedly. Honeybird nodded to them, and took her +barrow again, and went on round the house. + +By this time the sun had set, and the garden was full of that strange, +luminous twilight that comes with frost in the air. + +A cluster of late roses in Patsy's garden glowed against the fuchsia +hedge; a white flower stood out in almost startling distinctness. +Above the pear-tree the sky was clear, cold green; a flush of red +mounted from the south-west. The garden, shut in by the convent wall +and high hedge, seemed to Fly like a box without a lid at the bottom of +a deep well of clear sky. + +She sniffed the cold air. Her happiness had gone from her, but she had +been mercifully delivered from her trouble. Suddenly a hand gripped +her. Her godmother pointed with the spiked finger of a black kid glove +to Honeybird's garden. It was a bare patch--nothing grew there--for +what Honeybird planted one day she dug up the next. To-day Honeybird +evidently had made a new bed-centre, and bordered it with cockle +shells. Fly's knees shook under her. In the middle of that bed, +coming up through the newly-turned earth, with a ring of cockle shells +round its neck, was the head of a big yellow cat. It was here +Honeybird had buried her husband--buried him, unfortunately, as she +always buried birds, with his head out, in case he felt lonely in the +dark. Miss Black was down on her knees, clearing the earth away. Fly +never thought of escape. She felt as though she were tied to the path. +She stood there while her godmother lifted the dead cat in her arms and +tenderly brushed the earth from its fur. Then the little lady turned +round. "Now she'll kill me," Fly thought. She lifted her terrified +eyes to Miss Black's face. How would she do it, she wondered. But her +godmother never seemed to notice her. Without a word she turned, and +walked quickly from the garden. A moment later Fly heard the gate +shut. She was too bewildered to move. The sound of wheels going down +the avenue roused her to the fact that her godmother had gone. She had +been found out, and no awful punishment had followed, but to her +surprise there was no relief in this. Fly felt as miserable as ever. +She looked up at the sky. A star showed above the pear-tree. She had +not meant to do anything wrong, but she had hurt somebody terribly. +Whose fault was it? Almighty God's or her own? The donkey carriage +was going slowly up the road; she could hear the whacking of a stick +and the driver's "gone a' that." Suddenly through the frosty air her +ear caught the sound of bitter weeping. Then Fly turned, and ran from +the garden, dashing wildly through Patsy's flower-bed in her haste to +get away from that heart-breaking sound. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE CHILD SAMUEL + +Fly and Honeybird introduced Samuel Brown to Rowallan. They found him +sitting at the gate one day, and mistook him for the child Samuel. For +a long time they had been expecting the coming of a mysterious beggar, +who would turn out to be a saint or an angel in disguise. Such things +had often happened in Ireland, Lull said. But, although scores of +beggars came to Rowallan, so far no saint or angel had appeared. Most +of the beggars were too well known to cast off a disguise worn long and +successfully and suddenly declare themselves to be celestial visitors. +But now and then an unknown beggar came from nobody knew where, and +disappeared again into the same silent country. These nameless ones +kept the two children's faith and hope alive. Samuel was one of these. +Fly had spied his likeness to the child Samuel the minute she saw him +sitting at the gate tired and dejected. They went to work cautiously +to find out the truth, for they had got into trouble with Lull a few +days before for bringing into the house a possible St Anne, who had +stolen the schoolroom tablecloth. But when they asked his name, and he +said it was Samuel, they did not need much further proof. + +Was he the real child Samuel out of the Bible? Honey bird asked, to +make sure. The boy confessed he was. He had come straight from heaven +on purpose to visit them, he said. + +As they were taking him up to the house they met Patsy, and told him. +Patsy jeered at their tale, and reminded them of St Anne. But, in +spite of Patsy's warning, they took the beggar into the kitchen. +Patsy, disgusted at their folly, left them to do as they pleased. If +he had remembered that Lull was out he might have been more careful. +Half-an-hour later he caught sight of the child Samuel running down the +avenue wearing his best Sunday coat. Lull was very angry with Fly and +Honeybird when she came home. Mick and Jane said it was the beggar who +was to blame. Patsy had given chase, and did not come home till ten +o'clock that night. When he did come back he brought his Sunday coat +with him, as well as a black eye. He had followed the child Samuel to +the town, he said, and Eli had never given the boy as good a beating. +In spite of this beating and the discovery of his fraud Samuel came +back a few days later. His mother was sick, he said, and he had come +to borrow sixpence. Jane wanted Mick to give him a second beating. + +"Nasty wee ruffan, comin' here cheatin' two wee girls," she said. + +Samuel took no notice of her. He addressed his remarks to Patsy. + +"Anybuddy could chate them, but I'm thinkin' it'd be the divil's own +job to chate yerself," he said flatteringly. + +Patsy smiled. "Don't you try it on, that's all," he said. + +"Do ye think I want another batin'?" Samuel grinned. He stayed, and +played with them all afternoon, in spite of Jane's plain-spoken +requests for him to be off. Before he left he had a good tea in the +kitchen, and got sixpence from Lull, who had a tender heart for the +poor. After that he came frequently. He said his mother was dying, +and wrung Lull's heart by his tales of the poor woman's sufferings. +Jane noticed, and did not fail to point out, that grief never spoilt +his appetite for pears. Now and then Samuel would silence her by a +wild fit of weeping. Patsy got angry with Jane for her cruelty. + +"Let the poor wee soul alone, an' quit yer naggin' at him," he said one +day, when Jane's repeated hints had made Samuel throw himself on the +grass to cry. + +"I wisht I believed he was tellin' no lies," was Jane's answer. + +Lull agreed with Patsy that Jane was too suspicious. + +"No good iver comes to them that's hasky with the poor," she told Jane. +Lull was Samuel's best friend. Every time he came she gave him +something for his dying mother. There was one thing the children did +not like about Samuel: he never seemed to be content with what he got. +He begged for more and more, till even Patsy was ashamed of him. One +evening he grumbled because Lull had only given him a penny. He had +had a good tea, and his pockets were lined with apples to eat on the +way home. + +"It's hardly worth my while comin' if that's all I'm going to get," he +said. + +"Then don't be troublin' yerself to come anymore," said Jane; "we'll +niver miss ye." + +Samuel looked reproachfully at her. "How would ye like your own mother +to be dyin'?" he asked. Jane's heart melted at once. She offered him +flowers to take back. Samuel refused the flowers. "Thon half-crown ye +have in yer money-box'll be more to her than yer whole garden full," he +said. + +But Jane was not sympathetic enough for this. She said she was saving +up to buy Lull a pair of boots at Christmas. After he had gone she +wondered how he could have known about her money-box, and then +remembered that Fly and Honeybird had told him most of the history of +the house on his first visit. The very next day Samuel came to tell +them that his mother was dead. His eyes were red and swollen with +weeping. For half-an-hour after he came he sat in the kitchen sobbing +bitterly, and refusing to be comforted. Fly and Honeybird cried in +sympathy, and Jane would have cried too if she had not been so busy +watching him. He cried steadily, only stopping every now and then, to +wipe his nose on his sleeve. She decided she would give him the +black-bordered handkerchief she had treasured away in her drawer +upstairs; also, she would make a beautiful wreath for his mother's +coffin. But soon the terrible truth came out that there was no coffin. +Between bursts of sobs Samuel explained that his father was in gaol, +and he himself had not a penny to pay for the funeral. + +"An' her laid out an' all," he wept. "The neighbours done that much +for her. In as nice a shroud as ye'd wish to wear. She had it by her +this many's the day. But sorra a coffin has she, poor soul, an' God +knows where she's goin' to get wan." + +Lull was greatly distressed. "To be sure, the parish would bury the +woman," she said; "but God save us from a burial like that." She took +her teapot out of the cupboard, and gave Samuel five shillings. + +"If I had more ye'd be welcome to it, but that's every penny piece I've +got," she said. Samuel thanked her kindly, and murmured something +about money-boxes. Mick responded at once. + +"I'll bet ye we've got a good wee bit in them," he said joyfully. The +money-boxes were opened, and found to contain nearly ten shillings. +The children handed over their savings gladly to help Samuel in his +need. Even Jane rejoiced that she had her half-crown to give. Samuel +went away immediately after this, and not until he had been gone some +time did Jane remember the black-bordered pocket handkerchief. +However, she determined to take it to him, and also to take a wreath +for the coffin. After dinner she made the wreath in private. Lull +might have forbidden it if she had known. Then she called Mick and +Patsy, and they started for Samuel's house. He lived near the town, so +they had a long walk before they reached the squalid street. Some boys +were playing marbles when the children turned the street corner. One +of them looked up, then rose, and fled into a house. Jane thought he +looked like Samuel, but she said nothing. Patsy had led the way so +far; now he stopped, and said they must ask which was the house. They +asked some women sitting on a doorstep. + +"If it's Mrs Brown ye want, she's been in her grave this six years," +one of them said. + +"Why, Samuel tould us ye helped to lay her out this mornin'," said Jane +indignantly. A drunken-looking woman came forward. + +"To be sure we did," she said. Jane fancied she saw her wink at the +others. "Samuel tould ye his poor mother was dead, didn't he, dear? I +suppose ye've brought a trifle for him, the poor orphan." + +"Which house does he live in?" Jane asked. + +"Don't trouble yerselves to be goin' up. The place is not fit for +quality. Lave yer charity with me, an' I'll give it to the childe." +Jane insisted on going up. The woman said she would bring Samuel down +to them. She seemed anxious to keep them back. But suddenly Samuel +himself appeared at a door. + +"I knowed ye'd mebby come," he said in a hushed voice as he led them up +the stairs. He pushed open a door, and invited them to step in. + +"The place is that dirty I hardly like to ask ye," he said. The room +was very dirty, but the children hardly noticed this. All their +attention was concentrated on the bed where the corpse lay, straight +and stiff, covered with a sheet. They stood silently by, awed by the +outlines of that rigid figure. Jane began to wish she had not insisted +on coming upstairs. But it was their duty to look at the dead. Samuel +would be hurt if they did not; he would think they were wanting in +respect. She dreaded the moment when he would turn back the sheet, and +show them the cold, unnatural face, that would haunt her eyes for days. +Breathing a prayer that God would not let her be frightened she stepped +forward, and put the wreath at the foot of the bed. As she did so her +hand touched something hard. At once fear gave place to suspicion. +Under cover of the wreath she felt again, and made sure the corpse was +wearing a pair of hobnailed boots. She looked carefully, and saw that +the sheet was moved as if by gentle breathing. Samuel, weeping at the +head of the bed, never offered to turn back the sheet. + +"I'd like to luk at her face," said Jane at last. + +Samuel cried more than ever. "Don't ast me," he said. "The poor soul +got that thin that I'd be feared for ye to see her." + +"God rest her, anyhow," said Mick piously. + +"Well, I'm thinkin' that's the quare thing," said Jane, looking hard at +Samuel, "not to show a buddy the corpse. I niver heard tell a' the +like." Samuel's answer was more tears. Mick and Patsy were both +ashamed of their sister. + +"I'm thinkin' she's not dead at all," Jane went on. + +"Whisht, Jane; are ye clean mad?" Mick remonstrated. Samuel stopped +crying. "Can't ye see for yerself she's dead right enough?" he said. + +"I'd be surer if I seen her face," said Jane. + +Mick in disgust turned to go, but Jane stood still. + +"Wait a minute till I fix this flower that's fallen out," she said, +noting with satisfaction that Samuel looked uneasy. She watched the +figure under the sheet, and made sure it was breathing regularly then +she took a pin out of her dress, and bent over to arrange the wreath. +Suddenly her hand dropped on the sheet. There was a yell of pain, and +the corpse sat bolt upright. Samuel's fraud was laid bare. His dead +mother was a man with a black beard. + +"God forgive ye, ye near tuk the leg aff me," he shouted, "jabbin' pins +into a buddy like that." + +"Shame on ye!"--Jane's eyes blazed; "lettin' on to be dead; I've the +quare good mind to tell the polis." She turned to Samuel, but he had +gone. Patsy had gone too; only Mick stood there, with a white, scared +face. + +"Come on ar this for a polisman," she said wrathfully, and swept Mick +before her. The corpse was still rubbing his leg. Out on the street +the women crowded round to know what had happened. Jane pushed her way +through them. + +"I think ye all a pack a' rogues," was the only answer she would give +to their questions. Patsy was nowhere to be seen, so they turned +sorrowfully homeward, to tell Lull for what they had parted with their +savings. Patsy followed them a few hours later. He had been looking +for Samuel to beat him, but Samuel had got away. He never came back to +Rowallan. They watched for him for weeks, but never saw him again. +The thought of the first beating Patsy had given him was the only +satisfaction they ever got from the memory of Samuel Brown. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE BEST FINDER + +The children had gone on an excursion that would have been too far for +Honeybird, and had left her playing on the grassy path. It was a +favourite place, especially in May, when the apple-trees, that made a +thick screen on one side, were in blossom, and the grass was starred +with dandelions and daisies. There was not a safer spot in the garden, +the hedge was thick, the path was sunny, and it was a part ould Davy, +the cross gardener, never came near. Patsy had allowed her to play +with his rabbits and call them hers while he was away. He had carried +out the hutches for her before he started. Honeybird was quite content +to be left at home when she could play with the rabbits. She played +being mother to them. Mr Beezledum, the white Angora, was her eldest +son. Together, mother and son, they went to market to buy dandelions +for the children at home, bathed in the potato patch that was the sea, +and went to church under the hedge. It was the nature of children to +hate going to church, she knew, so when Beezledum struggled and +protested against having his fur torn by thorns she only gripped him +closer, and sternly sang a hymn. Beezledum suffered a great deal; for +Honeybird liked this part of the game best, and went to church more +often than to market. When Mick looked back from the far end of the +path as he started she was already under the hedge, with Beezledum +struggling in her arms. He heard her shrill voice singing: "Shall we +gather at the river?" + +The day was warm and bright. The children tramped for miles, and it +was nearly eight o'clock when they came home, tired and hungry, and +clamouring for food. But the minute they saw Lull's face they saw that +something had happened. Her eyes were red with crying. Teressa was in +the kitchen too, wiping her eyes on the corner of her old plaid shawl. +It was Honeybird, Lull said when she could speak, for the sight of the +children made her cry again. Honeybird was lost; she had been missing +since dinner-time. Andy Graham and ould Davy were out scouring the +countryside for her. The children did not wait to hear more. They ran +at once to the grassy path where they had left Honeybird in the +morning. Mrs Beezledum was turning over half a ginger biscuit in her +hutch, the other rabbits were nibbling at the bars for food, but all +that was left of Honeybird and Mr Beezledum was a tuft of white fur in +the hedge. For a minute the children looked at each other, afraid to +speak. One of their terrors had come at last. Honeybird had been +stolen. Either the Kidnappers or the Wee People had taken her. The +children stared at each other's white faces as they realised what had +happened. If the Kidnappers, those tall, thin, half men, half devils, +had taken her they would carry her away behind the mountains, and there +they would cut the soles off her feet, and put her in a hot bath till +she bled to death. And if the Wee People had got her it would be to +take her under the ground, where she would sigh for evermore to come +back to earth. Mick's voice was thick when he spoke. "We'll hunt for +the wee sowl till we drop down dead," he said. + +The fear of the Kidnappers was the most urgent, so towards the +mountains they must go first. The rest started at a run that soon left +Fly behind; but they dared not wait for her, and though she did her +best to keep up they were soon out of sight. But Fly never for a +moment thought of going back. Left to herself she jogged along with +her face to the mountains. The sun, setting behind Slieve Donard, +threw an unearthly glow over the fields. The mountains looked bigger +and wilder than ever, the sky farther away. Everything seemed to know +what had happened, even the birds were still, and a silence like an +enchantment made the whole country strange. + +At last, in the middle of the field, Fly stopped, with a stitch in her +side. A flaming red sky stared her in the face, a wild, unknown land +stretched away on every side. Things she had been afraid of but had +only half believed in crowded round her. She saw now that they had +been real all the time, and had only been waiting for a chance to come +out of their hiding-places. Strange faces grinned at her from the +whins, cold eyes frowned at her from the stones. In another minute +that ragged bramble would turn back into an old witch. And behind the +mountains the Kidnappers were cutting the soles off Honeybird's feet. +With a wail of anguish Fly began to run again. She was not afraid of +the fiends and witches. They might grin and frown and laugh that low, +shivering laugh behind her if they liked--her Honeybird, her own +Honeybird, was behind the mountains, alone with those awful Kidnappers. + +"Almighty God, make them ould Kidnappers drop our wee Honeybird," she +wailed. + +Then she stopped again. She had forgotten that Almighty God could help. + +But He would not help unless He were asked properly. For a moment she +doubted the wisdom of stopping to ask. She was conscious of many +grudges against her. This very day she had promised she would not do +one naughty thing if God would let it be fine--and then had forgotten, +and played being Moses when they were bathing, and struck the sea with +a tail of seaweed to make it close over Patsy, who was Pharaoh's host. +But her trouble was so great that, perhaps, if she confessed her sin He +would forgive her this time. So she knelt down, and folded her hands. +"Almighty God," she began, "I'm sorry I didn't keep my promise about +being good, I'm sorry I was Moses, I'm sorry I'm such a bad girl, but +as sure as I kneel on this grass I'll be good for iver an' iver if +ye'll send back our wee Honeybird." + +Tears blinded and choked her for a moment. Almighty God could do +everything, could help her now so easily. It wouldn't hurt Him just +for once, she thought. She went on repeating her promise to be good, +begging and coaxing, but no sign came from the flaring heavens. At +last she got desperate. "If ye don't I'll niver believe in ye again," +she shouted, then added: "Oh, please, I didn't mean to be rude, but we +want our poor, poor, wee Honeybird." She laid her face down on the +grass, and sobbed. + +Almighty God might have helped her, she thought. It wasn't much she +had done to make Him cross after all--but, then, He was just--and she +had made Moses cross too. But Honeybird must be saved from the +Kidnappers, and if Almighty God would not help Fly knew she must go on +herself. She dried her eyes on her sleeve, and was getting up from her +knees, when something white hopped out from behind a whin. It was +Beezledum; and when Fly looked in under the whin there was Honeybird +fast asleep. She knelt down, and folded her hands again. "Almighty +God," she said, "I'll niver, niver to my dyin' day forget this on ye." +Then with a yell of joy she ran to wake Honeybird. + +[Illustration: When Fly looked in under the whin there was Honeybird +fast asleep.] + +There was great rejoicing when they got home. Lull hugged and kissed +them both, and made Honeybird tell her story over and over again. + +"It was that ould Beezledum," Honeybird said; "he didn't like goin' to +church, an' he ran away through the hedge. An he run on an' on, an' I +thought I'd niver catch him. An' when I catched him, an begun to come +home, I was awful tired, an' I just sat down to get my breath, and Fly +came and woke me up." + +About ten o'clock the others came home, despairing of ever seeing +Honeybird again. They had met ould Davy at the gates, who told them to +run on and see what was sitting by the kitchen fire. + +What was sitting by the kitchen fire when they came in was Honeybird +eating hot buttered toast. + +Lull pulled up their stools to the fire, and took a plate of toast that +she had made for them out of the oven. The rest of the evening was +spent in rejoicing. Fly began to be elated. + +It was she who had found Honeybird. The others had run on and left +her, but she was the best finder after all. They praised her till she +was only second to Honeybird in importance. The desire to shine still +more got the better of her; though her conscience hurt she would not +heed it. + +"Ye'll find I knowed where to look," she said; "ye'll find I know +things." + +Lull and the four others listened with breathless interest to her tale. +Andy Graham came in from the stables to hear it. Fly got more and more +excited. "When ye all left me," she said, "I just run on till I come +to the quarest place, all whins an' big stones an' trees, an' I can +tell ye I was brave an' scared; I was just scared out a' my skin. But +I keep on shoutin': 'Where's our wee Honeybird? Give us back our wee +Honeybird,' an' all the time I run on like mad, shoutin' hard, an' I +lifted a big stick, an' sez I: 'If ye don't give us back our wee +Honeybird I'll wreck yer ould country an' I'll burn yer ould +thorn-trees,' an' I shook the big stick. 'Do ye hear me?' sez I--'for +I will, as sure as I'm standin' on this green grass.' An' with that +something white jumped out, an', sure enough, this was Beezledum, and +Honeybird fast asleep in under a whin." + +"God love ye, but ye were the brave chile," said Lull. + +"An' as I was comin' away," Fly went on, "I throwed down the big stick, +an' I shouted out: 'I'll thank ye all, an' I'll niver, niver to my +dyin' day forget it on ye.'" + +They praised her again and again. No one had ever such a triumph. But +in the middle of the night yells of terror from the nursery brought +Lull from her bed. Fly was sitting up in bed howling, the others were +huddled round her. Mick and Honeybird were crying with her, but Jane +and Patsy were dry-eyed and severe. Almighty God's eye had looked in +at the window at her, Fly said. He had come to send her to hell for +the awful lie she had told. Patsy said she deserved to go. "It's in +the Bible," Jane said: "all liars shall have a portion of the lake of +burnin' fire an' brimstone." + +"Sure, she's only a wee chile, an' how could she know any better?" Mick +remonstrated. "God'd be the quare old tyrant if He sent her to hell +for a wee lie like thon." + +"But, after Him lettin' her off one lie, He'll be clean mad with her by +this time," said Patsy. + +"Whist, childer dear," said Lull, as she put them all back to bed and +tucked them in. "Sure, the Almighty has somethin' better to do than be +puttin' the likes a' yous in hell. Just be aff to sleep, an' I'll say +my beads, an' the Holy Mother'll put in a good word for the chile afore +mornin'." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A STOCKING FULL OF GOLD + +Mrs Kelly and her grandson Tom lived in one of the two cottages just +outside the gates. Her husband, when he was alive, had worked in the +garden at Rowallan. She was a sprightly little woman, rosy-cheeked and +black-eyed, and always wore a black woollen hood, that had a border of +grey fur, around her face. The children loved to go to tea with her, +to eat potato bread just off the griddle, and hear the tales of the +days when she was young: when the boys and girls would go miles for the +sake of a dance, and when there was not a wake in the countryside that +she did not foot it with the best, in her white muslin dress and white +stockings. + +Lull said Mrs Kelly hadn't her sorrows to seek. But the children +thought they had never seen anyone who looked more cheerful. She +herself said there were not many old women who were so well off. +"Sure, I've got me wee house, that I wouldn't change for a king's +palace," she said one day, "an' me grandson Tom, that niver said a +wrong word to me. Wouldn't I be the quare old witch if I didn't be +thankin' Almighty God for it!" + +But one morning ould Davy, who lived in the next cottage, when he came +to work, brought a message from Mrs Kelly to say that Tom was ill. +Jane, who went down to see what was the matter, came back crying. + +"He's goin' to die," she said, choking back her tears, "an' she's +sittin' by the fire cryin' her heart out." + +"Auch, the critter! she's had sorras enough without that," said Lull. + +"What ails him?" Mick asked. + +"He's got consumption, an' she says--she says--she's buried eight a' +them with it." + +"God help her! she was the brave wee woman," said Lull. + +"Mebby he'll get better," said Patsy. + +"He'll niver do that in this world," Lull said sadly. + +"It's just awful," said Jane. "She says there's no cure for it. It'd +break yer heart to see her sittin' there." + +"I'm sure as anything Doctor Dixey could cure him," said Fly. "Didn't +he mend Patsy's foot when he hurted it in the threshin' machine? An' +didn't he take them ould ulsters out a' my throat?" + +There was some hope in this, the children thought. And though Lull +shook her head she allowed them to send Andy for Doctor Dixey. It was +not until the evening that the doctor came. Lull had promised that +they might stay up to hear what he thought about Tom. When he did +come, and Lull took him down to Mrs Kelly's house, he stayed there +nearly an hour. The children were getting very sleepy when he came +back into the school-room. + +"Well," he said, pulling up a chair to the fire, "so you want me to +cure this boy Tom?" + +Mick nodded. + +"I think it could be done," Doctor Dixey went on. "But it would cost a +deal of money--more than any of us can afford to spend." + +"How much?" Jane asked. + +"Ten pounds at least, and then it's only a chance. And the old woman +will be left alone in any case." + +They looked inquiringly at him. + +"You see, the only chance is to send him abroad. He'll die if he stays +here. And when he gets there he'll have to stay there. So the +grandmother would miss him just as much as if he----" + +"She wouldn't care," Jane interrupted. "Sure, couldn't he write +letters to her if he was alive! An' he couldn't do that if he was +dead." + +"But the money--where's that to come from?" said Doctor Dixey. + +"We'll just have to fin' it," said Mick. + +"I'm afraid that will be a hard job," said Doctor Dixey as he got up to +go. "But I'll see to the boy while he's here, and if you find the +money I'll find the ship." + +They sat up for another hour, talking it over with Lull. She said it +was hopeless to think of such a lot of money, but the children declared +that they would find it somewhere. After they had gone to bed, and +Lull had put out the candle, Jane heard a noise in the dark room. + +"Who's that?" she said, starting up in bed. + +"It's on'y me sayin' me prayers," said Honeybird. + +"Ye said them wanst afore," said Jane. "Get into bed, an' be quiet." + +Honeybird got into bed, but in about three minutes she was out again. + +"What's the matter now?" said Jane. + +"It's on'y me sayin' me prayers," Honeybird answered. + +"Sure, ye said them twiced afore," said Fly crossly. + +"I'm sayin' them three times for luck," said Honeybird as she got back +into bed. + +Next morning Mick and Jane started off together to look for the money. +Soon after they had gone Honeybird came into the kitchen with her best +hood on, and said she was going out to see somebody. "Don't ye be +feared," she said when Lull had tied the strings of her hood. "I'll be +away the quare long time, but I'll bring ye all somethin' nice when I +come back." + +An hour later she was knocking at the door of the big white house, two +miles away, where old Mr M'Keown lived. None of the children had ever +been there before; but they had heard about Mr M'Keown from Teressa, +who went once a week to do his washing, and who had told them stories +of how he lived all by himself, with not even a servant to look after +him, and kept all his money tied up in old stockings. + +Honeybird's heart was full of joy. Last night she had asked Almighty +God to let her find the money for Tom Kelly, and when she got back into +bed for the last time Almighty God had reminded her that old Mr M'Keown +had stockings full of gold. + +After rapping for a long time on the panels of the front door--she +could not reach the knocker--she walked round to the back of the house, +and knocked there. But still there was no answer. Then she tried the +side door. By this time her knuckles were sore, and, as she found she +could turn the handle, she opened the door, and walked in. A long +passage led to the hall, where she stopped, and looked round. There +were doors on every side, but they were all shut. The first door she +opened showed another passage, the second led into a dark room. But +when she opened the third door she saw an old man sitting in an +arm-chair by a fire. Honeybird smiled at him. Then she shut the door +carefully behind her, and went up to him, holding out her hand. + +"An' how're ye, Mister M'Keown?" she said. + +A bony hand closed over hers for a second, but Mr M'Keown did not +speak. Honeybird pulled up a chair to the fire. "I hurted me han' +rappin' on thon dours," she said, "so I just come in at last." + +"May I ask who you are?" said Mr M'Keown in a thin voice. + +"I'm Honeybird Darragh," she said. + +"Darragh!" he repeated. "Ah, yes." + +Honeybird's eyes wandered round the room. Cupboards with glass doors +lined the walls, and the cupboards were full of china. "Can I look at +them things?" she asked. + +"Certainly, certainly," said Mr M'Keown. + +She got off her chair, and went round the room. In one cupboard there +were china ladies and gentlemen in beautiful clothes. She sighed +before it. "Auch, I wisht I was a lady," she said, coming back to the +fire. "Wouldn't ye like to have long hair, Mister M'Keown?" + +"I am afraid it would not afford me much pleasure," he said. + +Honeybird looked at him again. He was very thin, and his long back was +bent. "Aren't you feared to live here all by yer lone?" she said. + +"Afraid? What should I be afraid of?" he asked. + +"I'm feared," she said, "an' there's me an' Fly an' Patsy an' Mick an' +Jane an' Lull an' mother--all them--an' I'm feared to death sometimes." + +"What are you afraid off?" he asked. + +"I'm feared a' ghosts an' Kidnappers, an' Skyan the Bugler, an' the +buggy boo an' the banshee, an' when I'm a bad girl I'm awful feared a' +the divil." + +"Surely that is a rare occurrence?" said Mr M'Keown. + +Honeybird did not understand. "Aren't ye feared a' them things?" she +asked. + +"Not in the least," he replied. + +"I'll hould ye ye're feared robbers'll come an' steal all yer stockin's +full of gold," she said. + +"My stockings full of gold!" he repeated, looking puzzled. + +"Teressa sez ye've got hapes an' hapes a' them," she said. + +"I am afraid they only exist in Theresa's imagination," he said. "I +have not got one stocking full of gold." + +Honeybird stared. "Then ye haven't got one to give away?" she faltered. + +Mr M'Keown sat up in his chair, and made a crackling noise in his +throat, that grew more distinct, till at last Honeybird realised that +he was laughing. + +"I have not laughed for ten years," he said, smiling at her. + +She tried to smile back, but her eyes were full of tears. + +"Did you expect me to give you a stocking full of gold?" he said. + +"'Deed, I did," she said sadly. "I was tould to come an' ast ye for +it." + +Mr M'Keown frowned. "Ah," he said; "so it was not simplicity?" + +"No; it was a hape a' money," she said. + +"Perhaps you can tell me the exact sum?" + +"'Deed, I can," she said; "it was just ten pounds." + +"Ten pounds! What madness!" he exclaimed. "And, pray, is it to build +a new chapel or to convert the Jews that you have been sent to beg such +a sum?" + +"It's just to make Tom Kelly better," she said, the tears running down +her cheeks. "He's goin' to die, and Mrs Kelly's buried eight a' them, +and Jane sez she's heart bruk, and Doctor Dixey sez ten pounds'll cure +him." + +Mr M'Keown coughed. "Did Doctor Dixey send you to beg for the money?" +she said. + +She shook her head. + +"Perhaps it was Father Ryan or Mr Rannigan?" + +Again she shook her head. + +"Was it your sister?" + +"'Deed, it wasn't Jane, for she just hates ye; she always says ye're an +ould miser, an' ye'd skin a flint." + +"I am sorry that my conduct does not meet with her approval," Mr +M'Keown said. "But I shall be glad if you will tell me to whom I am +indebted for the honour of your visit." + +Honeybird looked at him. She did not understand what he meant. + +"Who sent you here?" he said. + +"Almighty God tould me to come," she said. + +"Almighty God?" he said. "I do not understand." + +"I ast Him to let me fin' the money to cure Tom Kelly. An' I said me +prayers three times for luck. An' when I was gettin' into bed the last +time Almighty God just said in a wee whisper: 'Ould Mister M'Keown's +the boy.'" Her disappointment was so bitter that she could not stop +crying. + +"Did you tell this to anyone?" Mr M'Keown asked. + +"I didn't tell a sowl. I got Lull to tie on me Sunday hood, 'an' came +here as quick as quick." For some time neither spoke. Mr M'Keown was +walking up and down the room. Honeybird was sniffing, and wiping her +eyes on her pinafore. At last Mr M'Keown came back to his chair. +"Will you tell it to me all over again?" he said. + +"I'll tell ye all from the start," she said. "Jane said Tom Kelly was +goin' to die, and Fly said Doctor Dixey could cure him, 'cause he took +the ulsters out a' her throat. An' Doctor Dixey come, an' sez he: 'I +can make him better with ten pounds,' sez he, 'an' if yous can fin' the +money I'll fin' the ship.": + +"What is the matter with this Tom?" Mr M'Keown interrupted. + +"He's got consumption. An' we thought an' thought, an' Jane ast Lull +to pawn our Sunday clothes. An' Lull said they weren't worth more'n a +pound. An' when we went to bed I prayed like anythin', an' Almighty +God tould me to come here." She got up, and held out her hand. "I may +as well be sayin' good-mornin' to ye, Mister M'Keown," she said. + +Mr M'Keown took her hand, but did not let it go again. "Perhaps +Almighty God did not tell you to come to me," he said. + +"'Deed, He did," she said, trying to swallow a sob; "but mebby He was +just makin' fun a' me." + +"Certainly I have not got stockings full of gold," Mr M'Keown said. + +"Well, I was thinkin' ye had," she said. + +"Ten pounds!" he murmured, looking into the fire. Then he got up from +his chair. + +"Will you wait here by the fire till I come back?" he said, and went +out of the room. + +Honeybird-sat down again. Her heart was heavy. She had pictured to +herself how she would go home with the stocking full of gold, and how +glad the others would be when they saw the money, and knew that Tom +Kelly could be cured. But now she must go back empty-handed. Mr +M'Keown was gone such a long time that she grew tired of waiting, and +got up to go home. But before she reached the door it opened, and he +came in. He had something in his hand. + +"Come here," he said, and, to her astonishment, he laid on the table a +handful of glittering gold pieces. + +"That is ten pounds," he said. + +Honeybird looked bewildered. + +"It is for you if you will accept it," he said. + +She answered by throwing her arms round his legs and hugging them +tight. Mr M'Keown took her hand, and went back to his chair. + +"An' what made ye say ye had none, ye ould ruffan?" she said, hugging +him round the neck this time, till he had to beg to be allowed to +breathe. + +"I think you must ask Doctor Dixey to call here for it," he said. + +Honeybird's face fell. "Auch, sure I can take it home myself," she +said. + +"I'm afraid you might lose it," he said. + +"How could I lose it?" she said. "Are ye feared I'd drop it? 'Cause I +tell ye what: I couldn't drop it if ye'd put it in an ould stockin' for +me to carry." + +Mr M'Keown smiled. "Perhaps a sock would do," he said. He went out of +the room again, and came back with a sock. "But it will not be full," +he said, as he tied the money in the toe. Then he said he would walk +back with her. Honeybird went with him to get his coat, and brushed +his top-hat for him with her arm, as Andy Graham had taught her. They +set out, hand-in-hand, Honeybird carrying the sock. Mr M'Keown walked +very slowly, and Honeybird talked all the way. She told him about her +mother and Lull and Andy Graham, what she played, and what the others +did, till they came to the gates of Rowallan. + +"Now I shall leave you," Mr M'Keown said. + +She kissed him good-bye, and when, half way up the avenue, she turned +to look back he was gone. The others were having dinner. Jane and +Mick had come back. Honeybird ran into the schoolroom, waving the sock. + +"Ye were quare and cross with me for gettin' out a' bed last night, +weren't ye, Janie? But luk what it got me." She shook the gold out of +the sock on to the table. + +They all danced round her while she told her tale. And when they ran +down and told Mrs Kelly she was so bewildered by the news that she +could not believe it till they brought her up and showed her the little +heap of gold on the table. Honeybird was the least excited of them +all; not even when Doctor Dixey came and made her tell her adventures +twice over did she lose her head. + +"Sure, Almighty God always does anythin' I ast Him," she said. "Mind +ye, He's quare an' obliging; if I loss anythin' He fin's it for me as +quick as quick." + +"Well, He worked a miracle for you this time," said Doctor Dixey. + +A fortnight later Honeybird wrote, or rather Jane held her hand while +she wrote, to Mr M'Keown. + +"I write to tell you that Tom Kelly is away to Africa," the letter ran. +"And Mrs Kelly cried and old Davy said he would be her grandson now and +that would make you laugh again if you knowed Davy for he is the cross +old man and never says a word but it is a bad one and Doctor Dixey +knowed a man there and Jane is awful sorry she called you an old miser." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE BANTAM HEN + +"Father Ryan's lost his wee bantam hen," said Patsy when they were +having supper one evening. "Ould Rosie was out lukin' for it as I come +past the presbytery." + +"Somebuddy's stole it," said Honeybird. Mick challenged this statement. + +"Well, it's just like what somebuddy 'ud do," Honeybird replied. + +"I'm goin' to help ould Rosie to luk for it the morra," said Patsy. + +Honeybird looked up from her porridge. "Ye'll niver fin' it," she +said. "Somebuddy that lives away at the other side a' the town tuk it. +I seen him goin' away with it under his arm." + +The others stopped scraping their plates to look at her. + +"Why didn't ye tell us afore?" Jane asked. + +"'Cause I was feared," said Honeybird. "He tould me that if I telt +anybuddy he'd come back an' cut my throat." + +The family stared at her. Here was a wonderful adventure Honeybird had +been through, and had never said a word about it till this minute. +Questions poured in on her. Lull, remembering that Honeybird had been +out by herself all afternoon, listened anxiously. Honeybird glanced +quickly over her shoulder, as though she were afraid of being +overheard. "I was coming along the road," she began, lowering her +voice, "when who should I meet but a big, wicked-lukin' man, with a +baldy head on him, an' two roun' eyes as big as saucers." + +"Away ar that, Honeybird," Patsy interrupted. + +"Well, I can tell ye they luked like that to me," said Honeybird. "An' +just as he was passin' me I seen a wee beak keekin 'out a' his pocket, +an' sez I to myself: 'Thon's Father Ryan's bantam hen.'" Honeybird had +an attentive audience. "An' sez I to him: 'Drap it,' sez I." + +"Lord love ye, child, the man might 'a' hurted ye," said Lull. + +"He very near did," said Honeybird. "He lifted a big stone, an' +clodded it at me, an' sez he: 'If ye tell on me I'll cut yer throat,' +sez he." + +"That's the last time ye're out stravagin' the roads by yer lone," said +Lull. "Yez'll not have to lave the wee sowl after this," she cautioned +the others. They were as frightened as Lull. + +They treated Honeybird as though she had been rescued from some +terrible danger. Next morning Andy was told. He questioned Honeybird +closely, and said he would give a description of the man to Sergeant +M'Gee. Honeybird remembered that the man had red whiskers, and carried +a big stick. Later on she remembered that he had bandy legs and a +squint. The more frightened the others grew at the thought of the +dangers she had been exposed to the more terrible grew her description +of the man's appearance. Once or twice Jane had a suspicion that +Honeybird was adding to the truth, but when questioned Honeybird stuck +to the same tale, and never contradicted herself. + +"God be thankit no harm come to the wee sowl," said Mick when Honeybird +had gone off to play, in charge of Fly and Patsy. "I'll be feared to +let her out a' my sight after this." + +"I'll hould ye Sergeant M'Gee'll keep a luk out for thon boy," said +Jane. They were up in the loft getting hay for Rufus. + +"Wasn't she the quare brave wee thing to tell the man to drap the +priest's hen?" said Mick. Jane lifted a bundle of hay. + +"She's an awful good wee child, anyway," she answered. "What's that +scrapin' in the corner?" she added. + +She stepped over the hay to look. + +"What is it?" said Mick. Jane did not answer. He repeated his +question, and Jane turned a bewildered face. + +"Come here an' see," she said. In the corner, where a place had been +cleared for the purpose, a bantam hen was tethered by a string to a +nail in the floor! + +"God help us," said Mick, "but why an' iver did he hide it here?" + +"He!" said Jane, "don't you see the manin' af it? She's stole it +herself, an' tould us all them lies on purpose." + +Mick could hardly be brought to believe this. + +"Did ye iver hear tell a' such badness?" said Jane. + +"Mebby she niver knowed what she was doin'," said Mick. + +"Didn't she just," said Jane; "she knowed enough to tell a quare good +lie." + +"We'd better go an' ast her if she done it," said Mick. + +They found Honeybird playing on the lawn with the two others, and led +her away to the top of the garden. Jane began the accusation. + +"Do you know, Honeybird, we think you're a wee thief," she said. + +"Dear forgive ye," said Honeybird. + +"We seen the bantam," said Jane. + +Honeybird looked up quickly. "Then just you lave it alone, an' mind +yer own business," she said. + +"Do you know that you are a thief an' a liar, Honeybird Darragh?" said +Jane sternly. + +"Well, what if I am?" said Honeybird. "Sure, I'm on'y a wee child, an +know no better." + +"Ye know the commandments an' 'Thou shall not steal' as well as I do," +said Jane. + +"I forget them sometimes," said Honeybird; "besides, too, I niver stole +it. It as near as ninepence walked up into my pinny." + +"Where was it?" Mick asked. + +"It was out walkin' on the road all by its lone," said Honeybird, "an' +if I hadn't 'a' tuk it mebby somebuddy else would." + +"Then ye niver seen no bad man with a baldy head at all?" Mick asked. + +"No, I didn't," Honeybird confessed; "but I might 'a' seen him all the +same." + +"Luk here, me girl," said Jane, "you've just got to walk that bantam +hen back to Father Ryan." + +"I will not," said Honeybird. + +"Then we'll tell Lull." + +Honeybird began to cry. "If ye do I'll run away, an' niver, niver come +home any more," she said. Jane was dumfounded. + +"Ye can't go on bein' a thief, Honeybird," she said at last. "We on'y +want to make ye good." + +"Then ye'll not make me good," said Honeybird. "If ye tell anybuddy +I'll be as bad as bad as the divil, so I just will." + +"Well, if ye don't give up the bantam Almighty God'll let ye know," +said Jane. + +"I'm not a bit feared a' Him," Honeybird replied. Say what they would +they could not move her. Mick reasoned and Jane reasoned, but it was +all to no purpose. Honeybird was determined to stick to her sin. In +the end she got the better of them, for to put an end to her threats +they had to promise not to tell. Later in the day Andy also discovered +the bantam hen, and told Lull. + +"I wouldn't 'a' believed there was that much veeciousness in the wean," +he said. Andy was cross--he had been to the police barracks, and told +Sergeant M'Gee to look out for Honeybird's bad man. + +"God luk to yer wit, man," said Lull. "Sure, childer's always tryin' +their han' at some divilment or other." + +"She'd be the better af a good batin'," said Andy. + +"It'd be the quare wan would lift han' to a chile like thon," said +Lull. "I don't hould with batin's, anyway. Just take yer hurry, an' +ye'll see what'll happen." + +What did happen was that Honeybird brought an old hymn-book into the +kitchen that evening, and sat by the fire singing hymns. "I am Jesus' +little lamb," she was singing in a shrill voice when the others came +into supper. + +"Then ye're the quare black wan," said Jane. + +Several days passed, and Honeybird showed no sign of repentance. She +even continued the tale of the bad man to Fly and Patsy, who did not +know the truth, and were still frightened of him. She said she had met +him again. Where and when she was not going to tell, for he had told +her he was going to America, and was never going to steal any more. He +had also said that if she were a good girl he would give her a bantam +hen for herself. + +"He'll on'y give ye the wan he stole from Father Ryan, an' then ye'll +have to take it back," said Fly. + +"No; but he said it'd be wan he stole from somebuddy I niver seen or +knowed," said Honeybird. + +"Don't you be takin' it," Patsy warned her. "The receiver's as bad as +the thief, ye know." + +Honeybird was disconcerted for a moment. "Who tould ye that?" she +asked. + +"It's in the Bible," said Patsy. + +"Well, I don't believe it," said Honeybird. "Anyway, Almighty God +forgets things half His time. I seen somebuddy that done a sin wanst, +an' He niver let on He knowed." + +That night Mrs Darragh was ill again. The children had all gone to +bed. Lull thanked God they were asleep as she sat by their mother's +side listening to her wild prayers and protestations of repentance. +"The childer'd make sure she was goin' to die if they heerd her," she +thought, and hoped the nursery door was securely shut. She had found +it was best to let Mrs Darragh cry till she had exhausted her grief. +Then she would fall asleep, and forget. Tonight it was past twelve +o'clock before Mrs Darragh slept. Lull made up the fire, and crept +softly out of the room to go to her own bed. But when she opened the +door she discovered the five children in their nightgowns sitting +huddled together in the passage. They looked at Lull with anxious eyes. + +"Is she dead, Lull?" Jane asked. Lull drove them off to the nursery. + +"Tell us, Lull; is she dead?" Mick begged. + +"Not a bit a' her," said Lull cheerfully. "She's sleepin' soun'." She +tucked them into bed, and hurried back to see if they had waked their +mother. All was quiet there, and she was once more going off to bed, +when she heard voices in the nursery. + +"I'll take it back the morra, but I think Almighty God's not fair." It +was Honeybird's voice. "He might 'a' done some wee thing on me, an' +instead a' that He done the baddest thing He knowed." + +"Whist, Honeybird," came Jane's voice. + +"I'll not whist," said Honeybird. "He's near bruk my heart. Makin' +mother sick like that all for the sake of a wee bantam." + +"God help childer an' their notions," said Lull to herself. + +Next morning, when she was lighting the kitchen fire, a figure passed +the kitchen window. It was early for anybody to be about the place, so +Lull got up to see who it could be. It was Honeybird. She was running +quickly down the avenue, with something under her arm. She was back +again before breakfast. + +"How's mother?" were her first words. Lull assured her that Mrs +Darragh was better again. + +Honeybird gave a sigh of relief. "Och, but I got the quare scare," she +said. Lull pretended to know nothing. + +"Well, I may as well tell ye it was me stole Father Ryan's wee bantam," +said Honeybird. Lull expressed surprise. + +"An' sez I to myself: 'Almighty God niver knows that I know right well +it's a sin'"--she paused for a moment--"but He knowed all the time. +'Clare to you, Lull dear, I made sure He'd 'a' kilt mother afore I got +the wee bantam tuk back." + +"Did ye tell the priest that?" Lull asked. + +"Troth, I tould him ivery word from the very start," Honeybird answered. + +"An' what did he say to ye?" said Lull. + +"He's the awful nice man," said Honeybird. "He tried to make out that +Almighty God wasn't as bad as all that. But I know better. Anyhow, +he's goin' to buy me a wee bantam cock and hen, all for my very own, to +keep for iver." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE DORCAS SOCIETY + +The Dorcas Society was Jane's idea. She thought of it one Monday +evening as they all sat round the kitchen fire watching Lull make soup +for the poor. A bad harvest had been followed by an unusually wild +winter. Storms such as had not been known for fifty years swept over +the country, and now, after three months of storm, February had come +with a hard frost and biting wind that drove the cold home to the very +marrow of your bones. In winters past the poor had come from miles +round to Rowallan, where a boiler full of soup was never off the +kitchen fire. This winter, driven by want, some of those who +remembered the old days had come back once more, and Lull, out of her +scanty store, had filled once more the big boiler. On this Monday +evening, as she stirred the soup, she mourned for the good days past. + +"Troth, Rowallan was the full an' plenty house when the ould master was +alive. Bad an' all as he was there was good in him. It was a sayin' +among the neighbours that if ye'd had three bellies on ye ye could 'a' +filled them all at Rowallan." Lull could have talked all night on this +subject. "An' the ould mistress, God have mercy on her; she'd have +blankets an' flannel petticoats, an' dear knows what all, for the women +an' childer; I'm sayin' Rowallan was the full an' plenty house wanst." + +"Well, I wisht it was now," said Mick. "I met Anne M'Farlane on the +road the day, an' ye could see the bones of her through her poor ould +duds." + +"Ah, I thought a quare pity a' her myself," said Patsy; "the teeth was +rattlin' in her head." + +"That'll make me cry when I'm in bed the night," said Honeybird +sorrowfully. + +It was then that the idea of a Dorcas Society, such as their mother had +told them of, came to Jane, and was taken up enthusiastically by the +others. "Ye get ould clothes, an' mend them, an' fix them for people," +she explained to Lull. "We could have a brave one with all them things +in the blue-room cupboards." + +"Is it the clothes of your ould ancestry ye're for givin' away? I'm +thinkin' ye'll get small thanks for that rubbidge," said Lull. + +"Why, they're beautiful things, that warm an' thick," Jane protested, +"an' we'd fix them up first." Lull looked at the five eager faces +watching hers. She hated to damp their ardour, but she knew what the +village would think of such gifts. + +"Say yes, plaze," Honeybird begged, "or I'll be awful sorry ivery time +I mind Anne M'Farlane shiverin'." + +"Go on, Lull; many's the time I can hardly sleep when I think the +people's cowld," said Mick. + +"We'd begin at wanst," said Fly eagerly, and Lull weakly gave in. "God +send they don't be makin' scarecrows a' the poor," she murmured when +the children had departed in joyful haste to begin their Dorcas +Society. For three days they could think and talk of nothing else. +Lull, watching them, regretted that she had not the heart to discourage +them at the first, for they took such pleasure and pride in their +society that she could not disappoint them now. She did drop a few +hints, but nobody took any notice. The clothes from the blue-room +cupboards represented the fashions for the past fifty +years--full-skirted gowns, silk and satin, tarlatan, and bombazine +calashes, areophane bonnets, Dolly Varden hats, pelerines, burnouses, +shawls, tippets. At these Fly and Jane sewed from morning till night. +Fly saw the hand of Providence in an attack of rheumatism that kept Mr +Rannigan in bed and put off lessons for a week. The boys were at +school, but directly they came home they sat down by the schoolroom +fire to help. Honeybird could not sew; she unpicked torn linings and, +on Lull's suggestion, ripped off all unnecessary bows and fringes, +working so hard that she had two big blisters where the scissors chafed +her fingers. On Wednesday evening all the sewing was done, and the +children prepared to take the clothes to the village. Lull regretted +her weakness still more when she saw how pleased they were with their +work. They brought her into the schoolroom to show her everything +before they packed. + +"Look at that fine thing," said Honeybird, patting a red burnouse. +"That'll keep Anne M'Farlane's ould bones from rattlin'." Patsy held +up a buff-coloured satin gown, pointing out with pride where he had +filled up the deficiencies of a very low neck with the top of a green +silk pelerine. + +"That's more like a dress now, isn't it, Lull?" he said. "I'm thinkin' +whoiver wore that afore I fixed it must 'a' been on the bare stomach." +They packed the clothes in ould Davy's wheelbarrow and the ould +perambulator, and started off. Jane and Mick wheeled the loads. Patsy +held a lantern, Fly and Honeybird carried armfuls of bonnets and hats +that would have been crushed among the heavy things. Lull felt like a +culprit as she watched them go. She waited with some anxiety for them +to come home, but they came back as pleased as they had been when they +started. Everybody was delighted, and had promised to wear their gifts. + +"Anne M'Farlane cried, she was that glad," Honeybird told Lull. + +"An', mind ye, the things fitted quare an' well," said Mick. "The only +thing I have my doubts about was thon lilac boots ye give Mrs Cush." + +"They went on her all right," said Jane. + +"Ah, but I could see they hurted her all the same," said Mick; "but I +suppose they'll stretch." Lull thanked God in her heart that the +people had evidently taken the will for the deed. And perhaps, after +all, though the clothes were not fit to wear, some of them might be +useful--one of those satin dresses would be a warm covering on a bed. + +Next morning she was skimming the soup when old Mrs Kelly came in. +Lull turned to greet her, and saw to her surprise that Mrs Kelly wore a +tight black silk jacket and a green calash. "Saints presarve us, Mrs +Kelly, woman," she exclaimed, for a moment forgetting the Dorcas +Society. Mrs Kelly smiled weakly. + +"I suppose I look like mad Mattie; but I couldn't be disappointin' the +childer. Ye'll tell them, Lull, I come up in them, won't ye? I give +them my word I would." Mrs Kelly departed with her soup, and Lull sat +down to face the fact that the people had taken the children seriously. +"Dear forgive me, I'm the right ould fool. The village'll be like a +circus the day," she murmured. A tall figure in vivid colours passed +the window. "God help us, there's Anne," she gasped. The next moment +Anne M'Farlane stood in the doorway. She wore a brown bombazine dress, +a red burnouse, and a bonnet of bright blue areophane. Lull greeted +her as though there were nothing unusual about her appearance. But +Anne, in no mood to notice this, stood still in the doorway. Lull +turned towards the fire. + +"Come on in an' warm yerself, Anne," she said cheerfully, trying to +ignore Anne's dramatic attitude. A burst of weeping was the reply from +the figure in the doorway. + +"Luk at me--luk!" wailed Anne. "Did ye iver see the like in all yer +days?--all the childer in the streets a-callin' after me. An' when I +met the priest on the road, sez he: 'Is it aff to a weddin' ye are in +Lent, Anne?' sez he." Lull could find nothing to say. She tried to +make Anne come in and have some tea, but Anne's woe was beyond the +comfort of tea. + +"Gimme the soup, an' I'll away home to my bed," she wept. "God help +me, I'd be better in my grave." She dried her eyes on the burnouse, +and took her soup, adding, as she turned to go: "Don't be lettin' on to +the weans, Lull. Their meanin' was a' the best, but it's an image upon +airth they've made a' me--me that always lived a moral life, an' hoped +to die a moral death." She went away crying. + +"It's the sore penance I'll get for this day's work," Lull muttered. + +Teressa was the next person to arrive, and to Lull's relief she wore +her own well-known green plaid shawl. On seeing this Lull took heart +again. Mrs Kelly and Anne M'Farlane were both such good-natured +bodies, perhaps they would be the only ones to wear the Dorcas +Society's gifts. But Teressa was charged with news. She was hardly +inside the door before she began. "Man, Lull, woman, but there's the +quare fun in the village the day. Ye'd split yer two sides at the +people. I niver laughed as many. Thon's the curiosities a' the +ould-fashionedest, to be sure. Silks an' satins trailin' round the +dours like tip-top quality rared in the parlour." She took a seat by +the fire. "God be thanked, the childer niver come near me; mebby +they'd 'a' made a kiltie a' me, like poor Mary M'Cann, the critter." +Before Lull had time to reply the door was once more opened, and old +Mrs Glover came in, looking very apologetic in the full-skirted, +buff-coloured satin gown that Patsy had made wearable. + +"Good mornin' to ye, Lull," she curtsied. "Is that yerself, Mrs +O'Rorke?" She was evidently on the verge of tears. Teressa looked +pityingly at her. + +"Och, but the quality does be makin' fun a' the poor," she said. Mrs +Glover's tears brimmed over. "The boyseys has laughed their fill at +me, an' me their ould granny," she quavered. "I'd do anythin' to +oblige, but I hadn't the nerve to come out in thon fur hat: Geordie +said I looked for all the world like an' ould rabbit in it." + +"A dacint woman like yerself. I'm sayin', I wonder the childer would +do the like," said Teressa sympathetically. Lull felt her temper +rising, but she was powerless to reply. Teressa invited Mrs Glover to +sit down. + +"They're stirrin' weans, an' I'm not aquil for them," Mrs Glover +murmured. + +Teressa nodded from the other side of the fire. "Families does be +terrible like other," she said. + +"'Deed ay; that's no lie," said Mrs Glover plaintively. "I mind their +ould grandfather afore them; many's the time the people be to curse the +Pope for him afore he'd let them have the wee drap a' soup." + +Lull rose in wrath. "Is it the weans ye're namin' wi that ould +ruffan?" she said fiercely--"an' them stitching an' rippin' for a pack +a' crabbit ould women that the saints in glory couldn't plaze." + +Teressa and Mrs Glover both got up hastily, full of apologies, but Lull +would not be appeased. She gave them their soup, and sent them off. +"People does be thinkin' quare things," she murmured as she watched +them go. "How an' iver am I going to tell the childer thon?" + +She had no need, however, to tell the children. The news came from an +unexpected quarter. Dinner was waiting on the schoolroom table, and +the children, standing by the fire, were still discussing their Dorcas +Society, when there came a tap at the door, and Miss Rannigan, the +rector's niece, walked in. + +Miss Rannigan was a little woman, prim and bird-like in her movements. +She came to stay at the Rectory about twice a year, and the children +avoided the place while she was there. She had never been to Rowallan +before, and they thought she must have come to tell them that Mr +Rannigan was dead. Her first words dispelled this fear. + +"Fie! oh, fie!" She pointed a black-kid finger at Jane. Jane quickly +reviewed her life to see which sin had been discovered. "The whole +village is intoxicated, you cruel child." They all stared at her. +"They tell me it was you made such shocking guys of those poor, +benighted old women who are now dancing in the street like drunken +playactors." A scarlet flame leapt from face to face; the children +turned to each other with burning cheeks. "If my uncle had been able +he would have come here himself," Miss Rannigan went on. + +"We--we--we----" Jane stammered; she could not tell Miss Rannigan about +the Dorcas Society. + +"Do not try to make excuses," said that lady. + +"We make no excuses," said Patsy wrathfully. "We done it a' purpose, +just for the pure divilment a' the thing." + +"Wean, dear!" Lull remonstrated. + +"Their meanin' was good, miss," she began. Andy's head appeared round +the door. + +"If ye plaze, Miss Jane, wee Cush is here, an' she says for the love of +God will ye come an' take them fancy boots off her ould granny that ye +put on last night, for ne'er a buddy else can. The ould woman niver +got a wink a' sleep, an' the two feet's burnin' aff her." + +"I should like to teach you what a mother is," said Miss Rannigan +grimly. + +"Do ye think she was tellin' the truth?" said Mick when she had gone. + +Jane was putting on her hat. "I'm goin' to see," she said. She +departed for the village, and the others went with her, in spite of +Lull's entreaties to them to stay and eat their dinner first. Lull put +the dinner in the oven, and then sat down and cried. They came back +miserably dejected. Miss Rannigan's tale was only too true. "There's +hardly wan sober," Jane explained. "Ould Mrs Cush is, 'cause the boots +hurted her that much she couldn't put fut to the flure. I had to cut +them off her." + +"Where did they get the drink?" Lull asked. + +"At the Red Lion. John M'Fall had them all in, an' made them drunk for +nuthin', 'cause they looked that awful funny in our clothes." Jane put +her head down on the table, and cried bitterly. Mick tried to comfort +her, while Fly and Honeybird wept on Lull's lap. + +"Sure, ye did it all for the best, dear," Lull said. "It's meselfs the +bad ould fool not to see how it would be from the first." + +Suddenly Patsy began to laugh. "I can't help it if ye are cross wi' +me, Jane, but I wisht ye'd seen ould Mrs Glover in thon furry hat." + +Jane raised a wrathful face. "It's awful wicked of ye, Patsy, when +mebby they'll all be took up and put in gaol through us." + +"They can't be that," said Patsy, "for Sergeant M'Gee's as drunk as +anybody." + +Jane's face cleared. "Are ye sure?" she demanded. + +"Sure! didn't ye see him walasin' round in thon tull bonnet? I heard +him sayin' they'd burn tar bar'ls the night." This relieved their +anxiety, but it could not do away with the disgrace. The children +avoided the village for weeks, and never again mentioned the Dorcas +Society. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE CRUEL HARM + +Mick had made friends with Pat M'Garvey in the spring, when Jane and +the others had measles, and he had been sent to the Rectory to be out +of the way. The weather had been fine, and he had gone exploring +nearly every day. On one of these expeditions he had come across a +tall, red-haired boy setting potatoes in a patch of ground behind a +cottage on tfie side of the mountain. The coast road ran below, and +Mick must have passed the cottage dozens of times, but he had never +seen it before. He discovered it now only because he had been up the +mountain and had seen a thread of smoke below. Even then it had been +hard to find the cottage, hid as it was by boulders and whins. At +first Pat had not been friendly. When he straightened his long back up +from the potatoes he was bending over he had looked angrily at Mick. +But Mick had insisted on being friends, he was so lonely, and after a +bit Pat had invited him into the garden, and allowed him to help to +plant the potatoes. The next day Mick went again, and then the next. +He soon discovered that Pat was not like the boys in the village: he +knew things that Mick had never heard of, and told him stories of the +Red Branch Knights and the time when Ireland was happy. Once when Mick +tried to show off the little he knew about the Rebellion Pat took the +story out of his mouth, and got so excited that his grey-green eyes +looked as though they were on fire. He was twenty years old, and lived +alone with his old grandmother. + +[Illustration: "Michael Darragh! Is that who ye are? Mother a' God, +an' yer father's gun in his han'"] + +The first time Mick went into the cottage a strange thing happened. +Old Mrs M'Garvey was sitting by the chimney corner, her hands stretched +out over the fire. She looked like a witch, Mick thought. Over the +chimneypiece there was a gun that took Mick's fancy. It was nearly six +feet long. Pat saw him looking at it, and took it down. He said it +had been washed ashore the time of the Spanish Armada, and had been +found in the sand. Mick took it into his hands to feel the weight. +Suddenly the old woman looked up, and asked Pat what was the young +gentleman's name. Mick answered for himself. She rose from her stool +with a screech: "Michael Darragh! Is that who ye are? Mother a' God! +an' yer father's gun in his han'." Mick turned in bewilderment to Pat, +but he was leaning against the wall, shaking all over. "In the name of +God," he was saying. Then he took the gun away, and hurried Mick out +of the cottage. "I niver knew that was who ye were," he said; "I made +sure you were wan a' the young Bogues." He told Mick not to think +about it again--the old woman was doting, and did not know what she was +saying--but he made him promise never to tell anyone what had happened, +and never let anyone know they were friends--they might both get into +trouble if it were known, he said. Soon after this Mick went back to +Rowallan, and then he was not able to see Pat so often. If the +friendship had not been a secret he could have gone, but it was hard to +get away from the others without explaining where he was going. Once +or twice through the summer he slipped away, and found Pat about the +cottage. On one of these days Pat told him he was going away to +America soon, to his father. Mick had imagined that Mr M'Garvey was +dead. He thought Pat looked very miserable. "Don't ye want to go?" he +asked. + +"It's not so much the goin' I mind as a terrible piece a' work I have +to do afore I go," he said. Then after a pause he added: "But I'll not +be goin' yet a bit; I'll wait till I bury my ould granny." + +Mick did not go back till one day in November. He could not see Pat +anywhere outside, so he knocked at the cottage door. It was opened by +Pat himself. "She's dead," he said. He came out, and they sat on the +wall. "Then ye'll be off to America," Mick said sadly--he had never +seen Pat look so thin and ill; "I'll be quare an' sorry to see ye go." + +Pat did not answer, he was looking straight out at the line of grey +sea. Mick could hear the waves beating on the rocks below. At last +Pat said: "I have that bit of a job to do before I go." Mick thought +he meant he must bury his granny. He tried to cheer him up. "Yer +father'll be brave an' glad to see ye," he said. + +"It's six years the morra since I seen him," said Pat, still looking +out to sea. + +"Six years the morra; why, that's just as long as my father's been +dead," said Mick. Pat did not answer. + +"Will ye iver come back any more?" Mick asked. + +"Niver," said Pat. "I'll bury my granny the morra, an' then--then I +start." + +"Well, I'll niver forget ye," said Mick. Now that it had come to +saying good-bye for ever Mick felt he could not let Pat go; it was like +parting from Jane or Patsy; he was almost crying. + +"Ye'll have no call to forget me or mine," said Pat bitterly. + +"'Deed, I won't," said Mick; "ye've been quare an' kind to me. I'd +like to give ye somethin' before ye go, so that ye won't forget me, but +I've nothin' but my ould watch. I wisht ye'd take it, Pat." + +Pat hid his face in his hands, then he gave a sound like a groan, and +got up, and took Mick by the shoulders. "See here," he said, "ye'll +niver forget me, an' I'll niver forget you. God forgive me, I wouldn't +hurt a hair a' yer head, an' yet I'm goin' to do ye the cruel harm. +An' it's tearin' the heart out of me to do it. Mind that. But I give +my father my word I'd do it, an' it's the right thing for-by. It's +only because it's yerself that it's killin' me." And he turned back +into the cottage, and shut the door. The whole way home Mick puzzled +over what he could have meant. + +The next day was Honeybird's birthday, and they were all to go to take +tea with Aunt Mary and Uncle Niel at the farm. This was one of their +greatest treats; but at the last minute Mick said he did not want to +go. All the morning, every time he remembered, tears kept coming into +his eyes--Pat was burying his old granny to-day, and then he was going +to leave Ireland for ever. It seemed a mean thing to go to a tea party +when your best friend was going away, and you would never see him +again. When he thought of how white and ill Pat had looked yesterday +Mick felt a lump in his throat. But Lull said he must go to the farm +whether he liked it or not, or Aunt Mary would be hurt. + +The farm was nearly a mile from Rowallan. Half the way was by the open +road, but the other half was through the loney--a muddy lane with a bad +reputation. All sorts of tales were told about it. A murderer had +been hanged, people said, on the willow-tree that grew there, and late +at night his bones could be heard still rattling in the breeze; and +_Things_ that dare not go by the front road, for fear of passing the +figure of the Blessed Virgin on the convent chapel, came to and from +the mountains by this way. The convent wall, on one side, threw a +shadow on the path, making it dark even in daylight; on the other side +was a deep ditch. The children ran as fast as they could till they +came to the end of the wall, when the path turned across the open +fields to the farm. They knew no place that looked so clean and bright +as that whitewashed house on the brow of the hill. After the gloom of +the loney the low, white garden wall, the fuchsia bushes, the beds of +yellow marigolds seemed to smile at them in a glow of sunlight. Aunt +Mary was waiting at the half-door, quieting the dogs, that had been +roused from their sleep in front of the kitchen fire. Aunt Mary was a +little woman with a soft voice; she wore her hair parted down the +middle, and brushed back till it shone like silk. When she had kissed +them all she took them upstairs to her bedroom to take off their +things. Jane always said she would be feared to death to sleep in Aunt +Mary's room. The ceiling sloped down on one side, and in under it +there was a window looking across the fields to the river and the big +dark mountains beyond. To-day the window was open, and they could hear +the noise the river made as it fell at the weir. Jane listened a +minute, then turned away. "I hate it," she said; "it's like a mad, +wild woman cryin'." + +"Don't, Jane," Mick said sharply. That mournful sound had made him +unhappy again about Pat. + +"Come on out of that," said Patsy, "an' let's get some pears." + +Aunt Mary always allowed them to play in the room where the apples and +pears were stored. Besides apples and pears there were two wooden +boxes full of clothes to dress up in--stiff, old-fashioned silks, +Indian muslins, embroidered jackets, and a pair of white kid boots. +Aunt Mary had worn these things when she was young and lived at +Rowallan, before she turned to be a Roman Catholic and was driven out +by her father. When they were tired of play they came downstairs to +the parlour. This, they thought, was the most beautiful room in the +world. There was a carpet with a wreath of roses on a grey ground, a +cupboard with diamond panes, where Aunt Mary kept her china, and the +deep window seat was filled with geraniums. Aunt Mary had a birthday +present for Honeybird; she kissed her when she gave it; and said: "God +and His Blessed Mother keep you, child." Then she cried a little, till +they all felt inclined to cry with her. But she jumped up, and said it +was time she baked the soda bread for tea. When the bread was baked +and the table laid Aunt Mary went to the half-door to look out for +Uncle Niel. + +"I always know when he's comin' by your face, Aunt Mary," Jane said. + +Aunt Mary laughed. "Indeed, I'm not surprised," she said; "for I can't +remember a day when I didn't watch for his coming." + +He came soon, and they had tea, and then he told them fairy tales by +the kitchen fire. In the middle of a story Mick suddenly noticed Aunt +Mary's face as she looked up from her knitting to watch her brother. +Jane was right; her face changed when she looked at him, her eyes +seemed to shine. When he and Jane were old, and lived together as they +had planned to do, they would love each other like that. Uncle Niel +was like their father, Lull had once told them. She said there was not +a finer gentleman in Ireland, and held him up to Mick and Patsy as a +pattern of what they ought to be when they were men. Mick agreed with +her. Uncle Niel was the kindest person he knew; after being with him +Mick always felt he would like to be more polite to the others. When +he was old he would be as polite to Jane as Uncle Niel was to Aunt +Mary. On the way home it was very dark, and they all walked close to +Uncle Niel going through the loney. He laughed at them, but Jane said +she was afraid of the murderer whose bones rattled in the breeze. + +"It's the first time I've heard of him or his bones," Uncle Niel said, +"and I've been through the loney at all hours of the day and night." + +"Did ye niver hear tell of Skyan the Bugler?" said Honeybird, "for I'm +quare an' scared of him myself." + +Uncle Niel picked her up in his arms. "What would Skyan the Bugler +want with you?" he said. + +"'Deed, he might be after marryin' me," she said, "an' ye know I +wouldn't like that." + +"I'd rather be married that kilt," said Jane. + +"I think one is as bad as the other," said Uncle Niel, and he laughed +again. "But I tell you what," he added; "if I ever meet anything in +the loney worse than myself I'll come over in the morning and tell you." + +Then Patsy, who had been walking along quietly, suddenly spoke. "Uncle +Niel," he said, "who was Patrick M'Garvey?" + +Mick caught his breath. Where had Patsy heard that name? Uncle Niel +seemed to be startled too. He stopped short on the path. "Who was +telling you about him, Patsy, lad?" he said. + +"It was just a man at the fair wanst. He said if Patrick M'Garvey had +waited in the loney instead of at the big gates my father would be +alive to this day. I ast him what his manin' was; but another man +tould him to hould his tongue, an' tould me not to heed him, for he had +drink on him." + +"Well, don't think about it any more, Patsy," Uncle Niel said; he was +not laughing now. "You and I have a lot to forgive when we think of +Patrick M'Garvey, but we do well to forgive, as God forgives us." + +Mick could not go to sleep that night thinking of what Uncle Niel and +Patsy had said. It was a wet night, and the rain beat against the +windows. After a bit Jane came into his room from the nursery; she +could not sleep either, and she thought she had heard the banshee +crying. But there was no sound except the pelting of heavy rain when +they listened. Mick made her crawl into his bed, and then they must +have fallen asleep. They were waked by the sound of voices downstairs. +The rain was over, but the wind was up, and the voices seemed to die +away and rise again every time there was a lull in the storm. They +both got up, and dressed hurriedly, without waking the others. +Something must have happened, they thought, and on such a dismal +morning it could only be something bad. All the village was gathered +in the kitchen when they got downstairs. Some of the women were +crying, and there was a scared look on the men's faces. Mick and Jane +were sure their mother must be dead. But no one took any notice of +them, and they could not see Lull anywhere. + +"The dog was howlin' at half-past eleven," Mick heard a man say, "an' +the dour was locked and boulted when the polis tuk the body home." + +Then the back door opened, and Father Ryan, the parish priest, came in. + +"Go home, every one of you," he said; "talkin' won't give the man his +life back." + +The kitchen was soon cleared. Mick saw Lull sitting by the table, her +head on her hands. Father Ryan put his hand on her shoulder. + +"I've lost my best friend, Lull," he said. Lull looked up; Mick hardly +knew her face, it was so small and old. + +"God help us, Father," she said, and then began to cry wildly. "Miss +Mary, poor Miss Mary; it'll be the death of her." + +"You are right, Lull," Father Ryan said; "she'll never get over it. +I've just come from her. It will just be the mistress over again---- +What are the children doing here?" he added quickly. + +"God forgive me, I niver seen them to this minute," said Lull. + +Father Ryan called them over to him. "Do you know what's come to you?" +he said. + +"Somebody's dead," Mick answered. + +"It's your Uncle Niel," Father Ryan said; "he was killed in the loney +last night." + +Father Ryan did not stay long. When he had gone Andy came in. Mick +was crouching by the fire. + +"Do you call to mind what day it was, Lull?" Andy said in a whisper +Mick heard. + +"I do, well," said Lull; "six years to the very day. God's curse on +him," she added in a strange, harsh voice; "couldn't he be content with +murderin' the wan, an' not hape sorra on us like this?" + +"He's safe in America," said Andy, "that's the divilment of him; but +them that's got childer has got the long arm. I'll hould ye he's niver +let the boy forget. The ould mother was buried yesterday, an' the boy +must 'a' been waitin' for that till he done it." + +Mick heard no more; he slipped out down the passage to the schoolroom. +He had forgotten all about Pat, but now he remembered, with a terror +that overwhelmed him. For a moment he wondered if he were really +himself. It could not be true that Uncle Niel was dead, and he, +Michael Darragh, knew--knew what? He could not bear the thought. But +it was all spread out plain before his eyes. Pat M'Garvey, his friend, +whom he loved so much, had murdered Uncle Niel. He shut his eyes, and +drew in his breath. "I'm goin' to do ye the cruel harm"--he could see +Pat's face as he said it, so thin and miserable. Why, why had he done +it? Uncle Niel was so good, and Pat was so good too, but now one was +dead and the other was a murderer. Quick before his eyes horrid +pictures rose up--Uncle Niel lying dead, and Pat, with blood on his +hands, caught by the police; Pat going to gaol on a car, handcuffed, +between two policemen, his white face---- "He didn't mane it," Mick +burst out passionately. "Oh, God, I just can't bear it." Then another +thought came. He himself would be brought up to give evidence. Pat +had told him he was going to do it, and now on his word Pat would be +hanged. What had happened that the whole world had turned against him +like this? + +The next minute he was off, across the wet lawn, over the road, running +for his life, not on the road, in case he was seen, but on the other +side of the stone wall. It was not daylight yet, but dawn was +struggling through the clouds. When he came to the village he skirted +it by climbing over the rocks, then on as fast as he could go, on the +coast road now it was safe--he would meet no one there--then up along +the little path that wound through dead whins and boulders, up to the +cottage, where the rain was dripping from the thatch. Mick never +stopped till he was at the door. There was no answer to his knock. +"Pat," he whispered, "let me in." Still there was no answer. He +looked in at the window: the fire was out, and the place looked +deserted. "He's away," he muttered. But just then the door opened. +"Is that you?" said Pat's voice. "Come in." Mick went in, and shut +the door behind him. + +"Pat," he said, "ye must be off at wanst--quick, quick--or they'll +catch ye." + +"Who tould ye?" said Pat. + +"Nobuddy tould me. They said he was in America an' the ould mother was +buried yesterday. But ye must be goin' this minute." + +"Hould on a minute," said Pat; "do ye know what ye're sayin', do ye +know what I've done at all?" + +"I do," said Mick; "ye mur---- Ye tould me yerself ye were goin' to do +me the cruel harm." + +"Is that all ye know?" said Pat--"then ye know nothin'. Do ye see that +gun there?" Mick saw it was still hanging over the chimneypiece. +"Well, it was that gun shot your father. Do ye see what I mane?" + +Mick stared at him in a dazed way. "My father?" he repeated. + +"Your father," said Pat; "an' it was my father murdered him." + +Mick was too dazed to take it in. All he could think of, all he could +see, was that thin white face before his eyes. + +"Do ye think ye'll get safe to America?" he said huskily. + +"My God, are ye a chile at all?" said Pat. He gave a big sob, that +made Mick jump, and then began to cry and shake all over. "What did I +do it for at all at all?" he wailed. + +Mick put his arm round him. "Whist, Pat, whist, man; ye must be off, +now, at wanst." + +Pat stopped crying. "I'm not goin'," he said. "I done what he bid me, +an' now I'll give myself up, an' let them hang me: it's what I disarve." + +"Listen a bit, Pat," said Mick. "Ye didn't mane it, I know that. It's +not you but yer ould father that ought to be hanged----" He stopped, +something came back to his mind as though out of a far-off past; but it +was only last night Uncle Niel had said: "We do well to forgive him, as +God forgives us." "Pat," he cried, "Uncle Niel said we were to forgive +your father!" Quickly he told the whole story--what Patsy had said, +what Uncle Niel had answered, with such a sense of relief as he told it +that he felt almost glad. "An' I know he would forgive you for +murderin' him, Pat, this very minute, if he could spake." Pat did not +answer. "An' if ye don't go they'll make me give evidence, an' ye +wouldn't have me an informer, would ye?" + +"I'll go," said Pat. + +No one had missed Mick when he got home. Their mother was ill, and the +doctor had come. Lull was with her, and Teressa had come to do the +work. After dinner Teressa came into the schoolroom. She said she was +afraid to be by herself in the big kitchen. Jane questioned her about +Uncle Niel, and she told them that one of the men had found the dead +body in the loney late at night as he was coming back from Newry with +one of the horses. The horse had stopped half way down the loney, and +when the man looked round for a bit of a stick to beat him with he saw +the body lying on its face in the ditch. "But the quare thing," +Teressa said, "is that yer Aunt Mary houlds to it that he come in after +seein' yez all home last night. She let him in, and boulted the dour +after him, but when they took the corpse home the dour was still +boulted, an' his bed had never been slep' in." Here Lull came into the +schoolroom, and was cross with Teressa. "Have ye no wit, woman," she +said, "sittin' there like an ould witch tellin' the childer a lock a' +lies?" + +The day of the funeral Mick stood at the schoolroom window in his new +black coat watching the rain beating against the panes. The burden of +the secret he carried weighed him down. He must have been changed into +another person, he thought, since Honeybird's birthday. + +"I wonder why it always rains when people die?" said Fly. + +"He didn't die, he was murdered," said Jane bitterly. + +Mick shivered; he felt like an accomplice. All night he had been +thinking of the funeral. Lull had told him yesterday he must go to be +chief mourner. But had he any right to be a mourner? What would the +people think--what would Father Ryan say--if they knew that he had +helped his uncle's murderer to escape? + +"I wisht I could go with ye, Mick," said Jane at his elbow. "I ast +Lull, but she said ladies niver went to feenerals." + +Mick turned round. "I'm all right, Janie," he said. But Janie's +kindness seemed to hurt him more: what would she say if she knew? + +"Wouldn't it be awful nice if ye woke up this minute an' it wasn't real +at all, an' we'd only dreamt it?" said Fly. + +"Nip me as hard as ye can," said Jane. Fly nipped her arm. "Ye +needn't nip so hard--it's true enough." + +"I wonder if God could make it not true?" said Fly. + +"He couldn't," said Mick, "for I'd niver, niver forget it." + +"Andy's ready waitin' for ye, Mick," said Lull at the door. + +When they came home from the funeral Mick was ill, and had to be put to +bed. Jane came up to his room, and sat with him. "Do ye mind what +Uncle Niel said to us in the loney?" she said. "Well, he couldn't come +as far as this to tell us, so he went an' tould Aunt Mary; Teressa says +it was his ghost come back to her." + +"To tell us what?" said Mick feverishly. + +"That it was wan of them _Things_ done it." + +"I thought ye meant about forgivin'," said Mick. "Mebby it was that; +don't ye think it might 'a' been, Janie?" His voice was very eager. + +"I niver thought a' that," said Jane; "but Uncle Niel was quare an' +good. I believe he'd even forgive a buddy for murderin' him." + +Mick lay down with a sigh of relief. "I thought that myself," he said. + +It was not till the primroses were out that the children went to the +farm again. Half way down the loney there was a rough cross scratched +on a stone in the wall, and the words: Niel Darragh. R.I.P. Aunt Mary +had been ill all winter, and at first they did not know her, for her +hair was quite white. But nothing else was changed. The parlour +looked brighter than ever; there was a bowl of primroses on the table. +Through the window you could see the big cherry-trees in the orchard +white with blossom. Upstairs the sun streamed into Aunt Mary's +bedroom, and the river sounded quite cheerful across the fields as it +raced along over the weir. When Aunt Mary had baked the soda bread for +tea she went to the half-door, and looked out across the fields. "I +thought I saw Niel coming," she said; "it is about time he was home." +Then she turned back to the children, and welcomed them, as though she +saw them now for the first time. On the way back they asked each other +in whispers what could be the matter with her, but Mick walked on +ahead, and said not a word. At the end of the loney they met Father +Ryan. + +"I was just coming to see you," he said. "It's you, Michael, I was +wanting. I've got a blue pigeon for you, if you'll walk the length of +the village with me." + +Mick turned back with him. It was a lovely evening; the air was full +of the smell of spring. They walked along silently. At their feet +were tufts of primroses and dog-violets growing under the shelter of +the stone wall. A chestnut-tree in the convent garden hung a green +branch over the road. Before them, on one side, the sea lay like a +silver mist; on the other the mountains, so ethereal that they looked +as though at any moment they might melt away into the blue of the sky. +But Mick had no heart for these things. Even when he heard the cuckoo +across the fields, for the first time that year, it was with no +answering thrill, but only with a dull sense that he had grown too old +now to care--seeing Aunt Mary had brought back all the trouble he had +tried so hard to forget. + +When they got to Father Ryan's house they went straight into the +parlour. "Mick," said Father Ryan, sitting down in his chair, "what +ails you, child, this long time back?" Mick looked into his face. +"It's all right," said Father Ryan; "you can tell me nothing I don't +know. I had a letter from him this morning, poor boy." + +"Is he all right?" said Mick. + +"He's all right; that's what I wanted to tell you. But yourself, Mick, +what ails you?" + +"There's nothin' ails me," said Mick; "I've just got ould." + +"Whist, boy, at your time of life," said Father Ryan. + +"What did he do it for?" said Mike sharply. "Ye've seen her, Father; +it's made her go mad." He began to cry. + +"There, there, child," said Father Ryan. "It's more than you or me can +say what it was done for. A better boy than Pat never lived, but the +father had a bad hold on him." + +"I sometimes think I done it myself," said Mick. + +"You did it?" said Father Ryan. "Faith, child, you did a thing God +Himself would have done." + +When Mick said good-bye to Father Ryan about half-an-hour later, and +was starting out, with the pigeon buttoned up inside his coat, he found +Jane sitting on a stone at the presbytery gate waiting for him. + +"Ye're the good ould sowl," he said, and he took her hand. "Come on, +let's run home; I'm quare an' happy." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A CHIEF MOURNER + +Some time after the death of Uncle Niel, Patsy's ways began to puzzle +the others. Until then they had always been quite open with each other +about their comings and goings, but Patsy took to disappearing for a +whole day at a time, giving no reason when he came home at night for +his long absence. Mick and Jane asked him one day where he went so +often by himself, but his answer only made them more curious. "If I +telled ye," he said, "ye'd all come, an' that'd spoil it." + +About a week after this Lull took them into town, eight miles away, on +a shopping expedition. Jane and Patsy were on one side of the car. +Jane noticed that several people they met, and they were people she did +not know, touched their hats to Patsy, and Patsy pulled off his cap +each time, but said nothing. At last, while they were waiting outside +a shop for Lull, a tall man came down the street. As he passed the car +he started, looked at Patsy, and then with a bow took off his hat, and +walked on. + +"Who's that, Patsy?" Jane asked. + +"He's just a man I'm acquainted with," Patsy answered, and would say no +more. + +A few days later something happened that made Jane still more +suspicious. They were having dinner, when Lull said: "Which of ye has +touched Mick's black coat and hat?" + +They all denied having seen them since the day of the funeral, except +Patsy, who did not speak. + +"Well, that's the quare thing," said Lull, "for I've hunted the length +and breadth of the house, an' can't lay my han' on them at all." + +Again they declared they had not seen them. This time Patsy spoke with +the others, but Jane noticed that he put his hand on the back of a +chair as he spoke. After dinner she told Mick. "It was Patsy tuk yer +black coat an' hat," she said. + +"An' how do ye know that?" Mick asked. + +"Didn't I see him touch wood when he said he niver seen it?" she said. +"I wonder what he's done with it, though," she added. The more she +thought about it the more bewildered she grew. But of one thing she +was sure: that if she could find out where he went, and what he did on +those long days away from home, she would have a key to the other +mystery. So she set herself to find out. The only thing to do was to +follow him some day; but Patsy seemed to know what was in her mind, for +he guarded his departures so carefully that each time it was not until +he had got a good start of her that she discovered he was gone. + +One morning at breakfast Jane saw by the look on Patsy's face that he +meant to be off that day, and she made up her mind that this time he +should not slip through her fingers. + +Patsy got up from the table with a yawn. "Who's seen the wee babby +rabbits?" he said. No one had. + +"Well, first there gets the pick," he said, and they flew to the +hutches. But when they got there no baby rabbits were to be seen, and, +in a fury of disappointment, Jane realised that Patsy had got the +better of her again. She was so angry that she slapped Fly and +Honeybird for daring to laugh at the joke, and their cries brought Lull +out into the yard. Lull dried their tears on her apron, scolding and +comforting at the same time. + +"There now, ye're not kilt," she said. "Shame on ye, Jane, to lift yer +han' again them. If ye lay finger on them more I'll tell yer mother." +This was always Lull's threat, and though she never kept her word it +never failed to have the same effect on the children. The thought of +making their mother unhappy was the most dreadful punishment they could +imagine. Jane walked out of the yard with her nose in the air and a +miserable feeling in her heart. But, once out of sight, she ran to her +favourite hiding-place among the sallies at the top of the garden, and +sitting down with her back to the convent wall she cried with +disappointment, and with repentance too. It was wicked to have slapped +Fly and Honeybird, but they had no business to laugh at her; and that +little brute of a Patsy was off again all by himself, and she didn't +know where he was. By-and-by she heard Mick calling her. She knew he +would be sure to look in the sallies for her, so she dried her eyes, +and crept along by the wall, and under the fence at the top of the +garden, out into the field. No good could come of letting Mick find +her; for she was still in a bad temper, and she knew it would only mean +more fights if she went home before her temper had gone. She wandered +through the fields in an aimless way, till she began to get bored, and +not any better tempered for that. + +It was all Patsy's fault; if he had not put her in a temper she might +have been working at the pigeon-house with Mick; but now the whole day +was spoilt, for she could not, with dignity, go home before tea-time. +Soon she found herself in a lane, and had to stop to choose which way +she would go. + +One way led to the village and the sea, the other to the big road that +ran to Castle Magee and town. It was too cold to go to the sea, and +she didn't want to go through the village with red eyes. Then the +thought came into her mind that the snowdrops might be out in the +church-yard at Castle Magee, so she turned that way. + +Castle Magee was a village of about six cottages and as many bigger +houses; a damp, mouldy place, that always impressed the children with a +sense of hunger and death. They rarely saw anyone about but the +sexton, and he seemed to be perpetually at work digging graves in the +churchyard. Then, too, there was no shop, and they had no friends in +the village, and after the long walk from home all that could be hoped +for was a turnip out of the fields. The church, surrounded by +yew-trees, stood in the middle of the village. The whitewashed walls +of the Parsonage blinked through an avenue of the same trees. Lull +said the church was a Presbyterian meeting-house, and on Sundays people +came from miles round, and sang psalms without any tunes, and the +minister preached a sermon two hours long, and then everybody ate +sandwiches in their pews, and the minister preached another sermon two +hours longer. + +The children had often climbed up, and looked in at the church windows, +and the cold, bare inside and the square boxes for pews had added to +their dreary impressions of the place. + +If it had not been for the snowdrops they would never have gone near +Castle Magee; but at the right time of year the churchyard was a white +drift of these flowers, and the sexton had often given them leave to +pick as many as they pleased. With a big bunch of snowdrops Jane felt +she could go straight home. Dinner would be over, of course, by that +time, but there would still be the afternoon to give to the new +pigeon-house. And how pleased her mother would be with the flowers. +All Jane's bad temper disappeared at the thought, and she would tie up +two little bunches with ivy leaves at the back for Fly and Honeybird. +She skipped along the road, making up romances to herself to while away +the three long miles. She was going to a ball in a blue satin dress +trimmed with pearls; then it was a dinner, and she wore black velvet +and diamonds; then a meet, and she had a green velvet habit, like the +picture of Miss Flora Macdonald Lull had nailed on the kitchen wall. + +Soon she got tired of these thoughts. + +"'Deed, I won't wear any of them things," she muttered; "everybody +wears them. I'll just go in my bare skin an' a pair of Lull's ould +boots." She laughed, and began to run. As she got near the village +the old feeling of hunger, native to the place, reminded her that +turnips would now be stacked behind the Parsonage, and she remembered +that it would be best to look for an open heap, for the last time she +and Mick had broken into one they found they had opened a potato heap +by mistake. She laughed as she thought of how cross the old farmer had +been when he had caught them filling up the hole again. Luckily, the +first heap she came to was open, so, picking out a good big turnip, she +went on till she came to the churchyard wall, and sat down there to eat +it. The village looked more desolate than usual. The slate roofs of +the cottages were still wet with the rain that had fallen in the night, +and a cold wind moaned in the yew-trees. There were only a few +snowdrops out, and for once the sexton was not to be seen, but a heap +of earth at the far corner of the churchyard showed a newly-dug grave. +Jane had got through her first slice of turnip when she was startled by +the sound of the bell in the church behind her. + +One! It went with a harsh clang. + +She looked round, but the bell had stopped. She was beginning to think +she had imagined it when the bell clanged again. Then another moment's +pause and another clang. Jane thought she had never heard anything so +queer, when she suddenly remembered what it was. Of course, it was +tolling for a funeral. It had tolled three already. Lull said it +tolled one for every year of the dead person's life. + +Four--five--six--went the bell. + +"That might be our wee Honeybird," Jane said to herself, and remembered +the slap she had given Honeybird that morning. + +Seven--eight. + +The sound grew more and more melancholy to her ears. Each clang of the +bell died away like a moan. + +Nine. + +"Mebby it's some person's only child," she thought. + +Ten--eleven. + +"It'd be the awful thing to be dead," she muttered, and shivered at the +thought of being buried this weather with nothing on but a white +nightgown. + +Twelve--thirteen--tolled the bell. + +"It'd be awfuller to be goin' to Mick's feeneral," she said. The +thought made her heart sick. + +She jumped up to go home--she could come back when more snowdrops were +out--but she caught sight of a long black line, slowly climbing up to +the church by the road from town. The sight of a funeral always +depressed Jane, but there was something specially gloomy about this +one. The wet road looked so cold, the sky so grey, and the black +hearse and six mourning carriages came heavily along, as though they +were weighed down by grief. + +Jane began to say her prayers. It was an awful world God had made, and +He might let one of them die if she didn't pray hard to Him. + +The bell went on tolling. It had got past twenty by the time her +prayer was said. The funeral was so near that she could see the +mourners behind the hearse. There were six tall men in black; two of +them walked in front of the others. They were the chief mourners. +Perhaps it was their sister who was in the hearse. The bell tolled oft +till it was past thirty; the funeral came nearer and nearer. + +Then all at once Jane's heart went cold with pity, for between the two +chief mourners she saw a little boy. It was the little boy's mother in +the hearse, of course, and one of the men was his father. Tears rolled +down her face at the sight of him. He was such a little boy, in a +black coat that was miles too big for him, and his head bent like his +father's. This was too much for Jane's feelings; she rolled over the +wall, hid her face behind a tombstone, and cried bitterly. + +The bell went on tolling. The wind soughed in the yew-trees. The +funeral procession came into the churchyard, the tall men carrying the +coffin, and the chief mourners walking behind. The little boy walked +beside his father. + +"Poor, poor wee sowl," Jane sobbed. "God pity it--it might 'a' been +our wee Patsy!--Ye young divil!" she added through her teeth--for it +was Patsy. Sure enough, there he was in Mick's black coat and hat, +walking solemnly behind the coffin, holding that strange man's hat. + +"So I've catched ye, my boy," she muttered, hiding down behind the +tombstone. She could watch without being seen, by lying flat on her +stomach, and she determined to see the end of it now. The burial +service began. She could hear voices, but could see nothing for the +crowd round the grave. Then the crowd parted, and she saw the coffin +lowered. The tall man began to sob. Patsy respectfully held the man's +hat and gloves while he cried into a big black-bordered +pocket-handkerchief. At last it was over, and they came back along the +path. As they passed by the tombstone where Jane lay she heard Patsy +say: + +"Well, I must be goin', so I'll be sayin' good-mornin' to ye, sir." + +A man's voice answered. "Ye're the remains a' them as is in their +graves, sir. Good-morning to ye, sir." + +When they had all passed she crept along behind the tombstone to the +far wall, and jumped over it into the field. Then she ran as fast as +she could to the road, climbed up the bank, and sat down behind the +hedge to wait for Patsy. He came soon, whistling, with the skirts of +Mick's coat tucked up under his arm. Jane waited till he came quite +near, then she jumped over the hedge, and stood in front of him. + +"Think I didn't see ye," he said; "jukin' down behind a tombstone with +yer flat ould face? Ye very near made me laugh." + +"What were ye doin', Patsy?" she said. + +"'Deed, I was a mourner at the woman's feeneral, an' a very dacent +woman she was by all accounts." + +Jane forgot to crow over him in her interest. "What'd she die of, +Patsy?" she said. + +Patsy stopped. "Ye know that wee public-house as ye go into town, just +as ye turn down North Street?" he said. Jane nodded. "She kep' that, +the man tould me, an' she died a' hard work.' + +"I niver heerd of any person dyin' of that afore," said Jane. + +"Well, she did," said Patsy, "for I heard the sexton ast the man, an' +he said she died a' labour." + +"I wonder if it's catchin'?" said Jane. + +Patsy walked on whistling. + +"But what tuk ye to the woman's feeneral at all, Patsy?" Jane asked. + +"I just went for the fun a' the thing," he said. + +"Sure, there's no fun in that," said Jane. + +"Isn't there just?" said Patsy. "That's all you know; I tell ye it's +the quare ould sport." He stopped, and counted up on his fingers: +"That makes two weman's, two childers', and one man's feeneral I've +been chief mourner to since Christmas." + +"But ye can't be chief mourner if ye're no relation," said Jane. + +"Ye can just. I walked close behind the hearse of every one of them," +he said. "When I see the feeneral comin' up the road I take off my +hat, an' they make room for me to walk with the best." + +He bound Jane over by a promise not to tell. In return for her promise +he showed her where he kept Mick's coat and hat--wrapped up in a +newspaper, and covered with sods, under an old bell-glass at the top of +the garden--and promised, on his part, he would tell her what the +people died of whose funerals he attended in the future. + +But, as it happened, that was the last one he went to. When they got +home they found the secret was out. Mick met them. He knew all about +it, he said; and Lull knew too, and was cross. Teressa had told. Her +sister, who was in service at the Parsonage at Castle Magee, had been +to see her, and told her all about the little gentleman from Rowallan +who came to every funeral in the churchyard. + +"She sez," Mick went on, "that ye were the thoughtful wee man, Patsy, +an' it'd melt the heart of a stone to see ye standin' at the grave like +an' ould judge, holdin' the mourner's black kid gloves." + +"Bah!" said Patsy. + +But Lull threatened awful things if Patsy ever went to a funeral again. +"Mind, I'll tell yer mother if I ever hear tell of it," she said; "dear +knows what disease ye'll be bringin' home to us." + +The lesson was impressed more deeply on Patsy's mind by Lull being ill +that evening, and going to bed early with a headache. Patsy was +terrified. He sat on the mat outside the door till past ten, and +refused to go to bed. + +"She's just the very ould one would catch it," he said when Jane tried +to persuade him to go to bed, "for she works that hard herself." + +"Well, I'll go in an' ast her if it's catchin'," Jane said at last. + +Lull was awake when they went in. "What's the matter?" she said, +sitting up in bed. + +"There's nothin' the matter," said Jane; "only Patsy wants to know if +what the woman died of was catchin'." + +"What did she die of?" said Lull. + +"She died a' labour," said Patsy in a trembling voice. "Is it +catchin', Lull?" + +Lull laughed so much that she could not answer. + +"Patsy was afraid ye'd catched it," said Jane, laughing too, though she +did not know why. + +"God be thankit I have not," said Lull, and as they went joyfully off +to bed they could hear her still laughing. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A SAFEGUARD FOR HAPPINESS + +May was at its height; all the apple-trees were in blossom, and the +crimson thorn-trees on the lawn. Through the open nursery windows a +soft wind brought the smell of hawthorn and lush green grass. Bright +patches of sunlight spotted the bare floor and Jane's red and white +quilt. It was early, and the children were still in bed. They were +wide awake--the sun had waked them an hour ago--and already they had +planned how they would spend the day. It was Saturday--a whole +holiday. Nobody had to do lessons to-day; the long, rich sunny hours +lay before them full of happiness. They had agreed that the rocks was +the place for to-day's picnic; no place would be half so beautiful. +This was the weather for the sea. As they lay quiet in bed each one +was thinking of the joys in store. First, there would be the walk +across the soft, spongy grass--past the whins for the sake of the hot, +sunny smell of the blossom. They would be tempted to stop and have the +picnic there; but they would go on, towards the sea, and the sheep +would move off as they came near, and rakish black crows would rise +slowly, and sail away. Then the sea would come in sight: so blue this +weather, how deep and full it looked, with what a soft splash it washed +against the black rocks, and how it stung your naked body as you slid +in for one dip and out again. Fly loved to look forward, as she called +it. Pleasures were worth twice as much to her if she were able to +think of them beforehand. Then there would be the long afternoon, when +you lay on your face on the rocks, and watched the ships sailing far +away, and now and then caught sight of a trail of smoke on the horizon, +that told you a steamer was passing by. A sound of singing came from +the convent garden, and in a moment all the five children were out of +bed, leaning out of the window, watching the long procession of white +nuns file slowly out of the convent door. The voices, low at first, +grew stronger and clearer as the procession came along the cindered +path. The nuns' white dresses, the black path they walked on, the +delicate green of the apple-trees on each side, the blue of the banner, +the shining gold of the cross, make a wonderful picture in the strong +sunlight. The children watched in silence. This singing procession of +white and blue was one of the things they liked best in May. It came +every fine morning to remind them how happy they were now that the good +weather had come. Lull said the nuns sang because May was the month of +Mary. + + "Ave Maris Stella + Dei Mater Alma!" + + +They were singing hymns to the Blessed Virgin now; their voices, very +sweet and clear, seemed to fill the garden. They went on along the +path, paused by a black cross that marked a grave, then went round the +chapel, and the children could see them no longer. They listened till +the singing died away, and then began to dress quickly. Fly was always +last. The others teased her about it, but they could not make her +hurry. Fly had a reason for being slow. She liked to say her prayers +last. If she had been dressed sooner she would have had to say her +prayers at the same time as the others, and then, she thought, Almighty +God could not give her His undivided attention. Fly said her prayers +very carefully; sometimes when she had said them once she went all +through them again, in case she had forgotten anything. When the +others had gone downstairs she knelt down by her cot. She said her +proper prayers first, then added: "And, please, don't let any of us +have anythin' the matter with our heart our liver our lungs, or any +part of our insides that I don't know the name of; please don't let any +of us kill or murder anybuddy, or be hanged or beheaded; an', please, +remember that it's ould Mrs Bogue's turn to die first." + +She rose from her knees, and ran downstairs. The hall door was open, +and the sunlight streamed into the hall. There was really no need to +say your prayers at all this weather, Fly thought; for, of course, +nobody ever died except in winter, when the wind howled round the house +and rain lashed the window-panes. Still, she liked to be on the safe +side. She was very proud of her prayer: the last petition she had +thought of in the winter, when Mrs Darragh had been ill. She had +reminded Almighty God that they had had a father and an uncle die, +while the Bogues had never had a death in their family. Therefore it +must be Mrs Bogue's turn next. Honeybird, the only one to whom she had +told this petition, was so pleased with it that she prayed it too. +Both children chuckled over the wisdom of it; for Mrs Bogue, in spite +of her eighty years, was a strong old woman--Lull had said she would +see ninety--so their turn could not come for years yet. + +"It's the awful thing that people has to die at all." Jane's voice +came from the schoolroom. "An it's quare that God thinks anybuddy'd +like to go to heaven." + +"Well, I niver want to go," said Patsy. "I'd hate the ould gold street +an' glass sea; I'd far rather have a nice salt-water sea, with crabs +an' herrin's in it." + +Fly stood in the doorway. "What's happened?" she said. + +"Ould Mrs Bogue's dead," said Jane, with her mouth full of porridge. A +sharp pang of fear seized Fly. A moment before she had been altogether +happy, now the light seemed to have gone from the day. She looked at +Honeybird, but Honeybird was taking her breakfast calmly; she did not +realise what this meant. Their safeguard was gone. If Mrs Bogue had +died so suddenly and unexpectedly might it not mean that Almighty God +wanted their turn to come quickly? She swallowed her breakfast, and +went out into the garden. She could not go to the picnic with the +others; she was too miserable for that. Why, oh, why did God make +people only to kill them again? Why did He want them to go to such a +dull place as heaven? Honeybird's voice called her from the garden +gate, and the next minute Honeybird came running down the grassy path. + +"Why didn't ye go for the picnic?" Fly asked. + +"'Cause I know'd ye'd be sorry about ould Mrs Bogue," said Honeybird, +sitting down beside her. "I'm thinkin' mebby Mrs Bogue wasn't as +strong as we thinked. It might 'a' been better to say Mr Rannigan." + +"That wouldn't 'a' been fair," said Fly; "he had a sister die. It was +ould Mrs Bogue's turn right enough, only it come far sooner that I +thought." + +"What are ye goin' to do?" Honeybird asked. + +Fly could think of nothing. + +"Why don't ye pray to have ould Mrs Bogue alive again?" said Honeybird. + +"That's no use wanst people's dead," said Fly. + +"But couldn't God make her niver 'a' been dead at all?" Honeybird +asked. "I'd try Him if I was you." + +Fly thought for a moment. "We'll both pray hard, and then we'll go an' +see." They knelt down under an apple-tree. Honeybird prayed first, +and then Fly. Then they started for Mrs Bogue's house. Honeybird +would have liked Fly to tell her a story as they went along the road, +but she dare not ask, for she could tell by Fly's face that she was +still praying. + +The road was hot and dusty. Both the children were soon tired. +Honeybird thought of the others enjoying themselves on the rocks. She +wished she could have gone with them. She would have enjoyed it too, +for though she pretended to Fly that she was anxious, she really was +not troubled at all. She did not believe that Almighty God wanted one +of them to die. Lull said their mother had not been so well for years. +But she had shared Fly's prayers, and a sense of honour made her try to +share Fly's trouble now that the prayer had gone wrong. Fly was still +muttering. Every now and then Honeybird could hear: "For Christ's +sake. Amen." + +When they came to Mrs Bogue's gate Fly said they were to say a last +prayer each, and then ask at the lodge. They shut their eyes. + +"Make her alive an' well, Almighty God. Amen," said Honeybird. + +They opened their eyes, and went up to the lodge, but while they were +still knocking at the door Mrs Bogue's big yellow carriage came round +the corner of the avenue. Inside the carriage was the old lady +herself. Fly gave a howl of delight. The children ran forward, and +the carriage pulled up. + +"There ye are alive an' well," said Fly joyfully. "Och, but I'm glad +to see ye." + +Mrs Bogue's wizened face expressed no pleasure at seeing Fly. + +"Of course I'm well; I always am," she said in a thin, high voice. + +"Ye were dead this mornin', though," said Honeybird. + +"Dead! who said I was dead?" Mrs Bogue demanded indignantly. + +"Lull tould us that iverybuddy said ye died last night," said Fly; she +was still smiling with delight. + +Mrs Bogue turned to her niece. "Do you hear that, Maria? That is +twice they have had me dead. I don't know what the world is coming to. +They won't give people time to die nowadays." + +"We'll give ye any amount a' time, Mrs Bogue," said Fly earnestly; "we +want ye to live as long as iver ye can please." + +"It's quare an' nice for us when ye're alive," said Honeybird. Mrs +Bogue looked at them sharply. Both faces were beaming with happiness. + +"You are very kind children," she said. She began to fumble in a bag +by her side. "Here is a shilling each for you." + +The yellow carriage went on. Fly and Honeybird looked at each other. +Honeybird was thinking how glad she was that she had stayed with Fly +and had not gone off with the others. Fly was thinking how good +Almighty God had been to hear her prayer. They went on down the road +to Johnnie M'Causland's shop, and bought lemonade and sweets, and then +struck out across the fields towards the sea to find the others. + +"Do ye know what?" said Fly, stopping in the middle of a field, with +her arms full of lemonade bottles. "Ye're always far happier after +ye're miserable. I believe He done it on purpose." She kicked up her +heels. "Let's run; it's a quare good ould world, an' God's a quare +good ould God, an' I'm awful happy." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +JIMMIE BURKE'S WEDDING + +Jimmie Burke's wife had not been dead a month, when one morning Teressa +brought the news that he was going to be married again. + +"The haythen ould Mormon!" said Lull. "God help the wemen these days." + +At first the children could not believe it. The late Mrs Burke had +been a friend of theirs. They had walked to the village every Sunday +afternoon, for the whole long year that she had been ill, with pudding +and eggs for her. And they thought Jimmie was so fond of her. He was +heartbroken when she died. When they went to the cottage the day +before the funeral, with a wreath of ivy leaves to put on the coffin, +they found him sitting beside the corpse, crying, and wiping his eyes +on a bit of newspaper. Even Jane, who, for some reason that she had +not given the others, had always hated Jimmie, told Lull when they came +home that she could not help thinking a pity of the man sitting there +crying like a child. + +"It bates Banagher," said Teressa, sitting down by the fire with the +cup of tea Lull had given her--"an' the woman not cowld in her coffin +yet; sure, it's enough to make the dead walk." + +"Och, but the poor critter was glad to rest," said Lull. + +"An', mind ye, he's the impitent ould skut," Teressa went on, stirring +her tea with her finger; "he come an' tould me last night himself. An' +sez he: 'The wife she left me under no obligations,' sez he; 'but sorra +a woman is there about the place I'd luk at,' sez he." + +"They'd be wantin' a man that tuk him," said Lull. "The first wife's +well red a' him in glory." + +"When's the weddin', Teressa?" Fly asked. + +"An' who's marryin' him?" said Lull. + +"He's away this mornin' to be marriet. She's a lump of a girl up in +Ballynahinch," said Teressa. "Troth, ay, he lost no time; he's +bringing her home the night, the neighbours say." + +In the stable Andy Graham was even more indignant. "It's the +ondacentest thing I iver heard tell of," he told Mick; "an' the woman +be to be as ondacent as himself." + +But Andy's, indignation was nothing to what Jane felt. "I knowed it," +she said to the others when they were together in the schoolroom; "I +knowed the ould boy was the bad ould baste. Augh! he oughtn't to be +let live." + +"Away ar that, Jane," said Patsy; "sure, that's the fool talk. Where's +the harm in him marryin' again?" + +"Harm!" Jane shouted. "It's more than harm; it's a dirty insult. Ye +ought always to wait a year after yer wife dies afore ye marry again; +but him!--him!--he just ought to be hung." + +"It's a dirty trick, sure enough," said Mick; "but ye couldn't hang him +unless he done a murder." + +"An' so he did," said Jane sharply. "Think I don't know? I tell ye he +murdered her, as sure as I stan' on this flure." + +"Whist, Jane," said Mick; "that's the awful thing to be sayin'." + +"An' I can prove it, too," she went on, "for I saw him do it with my +own two eyes, not wanst, but twiced, an' she let out he was always +doin' it. I promised her I wouldn't come over it, but there's no harm +tellin' it now she's dead. Ye know them eggs Lull sent her?" the +children nodded. "Well, do ye mane to say she iver eat them? For she +just didn't; he eat ivery one himself, an' he eat the puddens, an' he +drunk the milk. Augh! the ould baste, he'd eat the clothes off her bed +if he could 'a' chewed them." + +"Who tould ye he eat them all?" said Patsy. + +"Sure, I saw him doin' it myself, I tell ye. He come home drunk one +day when I was there. He was that blind drunk he niver seen me. An' +he began eatin' all he could lay han' on. He eat up the jelly; an' two +raw eggs, an' drunk the taste a' milk she had by her in the cup, an' he +even drunk the medicine out of the bottle, an' eat up the wee bunch a' +flowers I'd tuk her, an', when he'd eat up ivery wee nip he could find, +he lay down on the flure, an' went asleep." + +"The dirty, greedy, mane ould divil," said the others. + +"An' she tould me he always done it," Jane went on. "An' I seen it was +the truth, for he come in another day, an' done the same, an' he was +that cross that he frightened her, an' she begun to spit blood, an' if +it hadn't been for me I believe he'd 'a' kilt her; but I was that mad +that I hit him a big dig in the stomach; an', mind ye, I hurted him, +for he went to bed like a lamb, an' I tied him in with an ould shawl +afore I come away." + +The others could find no words to express their disgust. They agreed +that Jane was right--such a man ought not to be allowed to live. + +"If we tould Sergeant M'Gee he'd hang him," said Fly. + +"That'd be informin', said Mick. + +"Almighty God's sure to pay him out when he dies," Honeybird said. + +"I'd rather pay him out now," said Jane. At that moment there was a +flash of lightning, and a crash of thunder overhead, and then a shower +of hailstones rattled against the window. + +"Mebby he'll be struck dead," said Fly; "Almighty God's sure to be +awful mad with him." + +For three hours the rain poured in torrents. The children watched it +from the schoolroom window splashing up on the path, and beating down +the fuchsia bushes in the border. + +But by dinner-time it had cleared up, and the sky looked clean and +blue, as though it had just been washed. When dinner was over they set +off to the village, expecting to hear that Jimmie had been struck by +lightning, or, as Fly thought would be more proper, killed by a +thunderbolt. + +Mrs M'Rea was standing at her door, with a ring of neighbours round +her. As they came up the street they heard her say: "There's the +childer, an' they were the kin' friends to her when she was alive." + +"Good-mornin', Mrs M'Rea," said Jane; "has Jimmie been kilt?" + +"Is it kilt," said Mrs M'Rea; "'deed an' it's no more than he +desarves--but we don't all get what we desarve in this world, glory be +to God! Troth, no; it's marriet he is, an' comin' home the night in +style on a ker, all the way from Ballynahinch." + +"We thought Almighty God'd 'a' kilt him with a thunderbolt," said Fly. + +"Do ye hear that?" said old Mrs Clay. "The very childer's turned agin +him--an' small wonder, the ould ruffan; it's the quare woman would have +him." + +"By all accounts she is that," said Gordie O'Rorke, joining the group; +"they say she's six fut in her stockin's an' as blackavised as the ould +boy himself." + +"We'll be givin' her the fine welcome the night," said his granny; +"she'll be thinkin' she's got to her long home." + +"They say she's got the gran' clothes," said Gordie, "an' a silk dress +an'a gowld watch an' chain; mebby that's what tuk his fancy." + +"If she doesn't luk out he'll be eatin' it," said Patsy. There was a +roar of laughter. + +"There's none knows better than yous what he could ate," said Mrs +M'Rea. "Any bite or sup I tuk the woman I sat and seen it in her afore +I come away." + +"He's stepped over his brogues this time," said Gordie, "for me uncle +up in Ballynahinch is well acquainted with the woman, an' he sez she's +a heeler, an' no mistake." + +"Well, well," said ould Mrs Glover, "I'm sayin' she'll not have her +sorras to seek." + +"No; nor Jimmie either," said Mrs M'Rea. "But there, where's the good +a' talkin'? It's the lamentable thing entirely; but they're marriet +now, an' God help both a' them." + +"'Deed yis; they're marriet," said Mrs O'Rorke, "an we'll not be +forgettin' it the night. It's tar bar'ls we'll be burnin'--they'll be +expectin' it, to be sure--an' a torchlight procession out to meet them +forby." + +"Troth, then, they'll get more than they're expectin'," said Gordie. + +"What time did ye say they'd be comin' back the night, Mrs M'Rea?" Mick +asked. + +"Ye know we'd like' to come to the welcome," said Jane. + +"Och, it'd be late for the likes a' yous," answered Mrs M'Rea. "It'll +be past ten, won't it, Gordie." + +"Nearer eleven that ten," said Gordie. "You lave it to us, Miss Jane; +niver fear but they'll get the right good welcome." + +Going home they were all very quiet. No one spoke till they came to +the gates. Then Patsy said: "Lull'll niver let us out at that time a' +night." + +"We'll just have to dodge her," said Jane; "it'd be the wicked an' the +wrong thing to let ould Jimmie off." + +"It'll be the quare fun," said Patsy, dancing round. + +"It won't be fun, Patsy; it'll be vengeance," said Jane severely. + +"Ye'll take me with ye, won't ye?" Honeybird begged. + +"'Deed, we'll take the sowl," said Mick; "but ye'll be powerful tired." + +"What do I care about that?" she said. "I just want to hit that bad +ould man." + +Lull was surprised to see them go to bed so quietly that night. "Ye +niver know the minds a' childer," they heard her say as they left their +mother's room after they had said good-night. "I made sure they'd be +wantin' to the village to see Jimmie Burke come home." Honeybird +sniggered, but Fly nipped her into silence. + +The convent bell was ringing for Compline when Lull tucked them into +bed, but before the schoolroom clock struck ten they were on their way +to the village. When they got to Jimmie's cottage the crowd was so +great that they could see nothing. + +"We'll have no han' in the welcome at all," said Mick. + +"An' it's that pitch dark we'll niver see them," said Patsy. + +"We'd better be goin' back a bit along the road, an give them the first +welcome," Jane said. "Come on, quick," she added, "an' we can stan' on +the wall, an' paste them with mud as they come by." + +"Hould on a minute," said Mick. "I've got a plan: we'll stick my +lantern on the wall, an' shout out they're home; they'll be that drunk +they'll niver know the differs; that'll make them stop, an' we'll get a +good shot at them." + +"Troth, we'll do better than that," said Patsy, with a chuckle. +"They'll be blind drunk, I'm tellin' ye, an' it's into the ould pond +we'll be welcomin' them. Yous three can stan' on the wall out a' the +wet, an' me an' Mike'll assist the man an' his wife to step off the +car." + +The pond was at the side of the road, not more than a hundred yards +from the village, and the wall ran right through the middle of it. The +children climbed on the wall, and crept along on their hands and knees +till they came to the deepest part. The water was up to the the top of +the wall, so they had to sit with their legs doubled up to keep them +out of the wet. + +Soon they heard the wheels of the car coming along the road. + +"Now, mind ye all screech at onst," said Patsy as he dropped off the +wall. "Auch! but the water's cowld." + +The car came nearer. Jane held up the lantern. "Hurrah, hurrah!" they +shouted; "here ye are at last. Hurrah!" + +"This way, this way," Mick shouted; "drive up to the man's own dour." + +A stone from Patsy smashed the lamp on the car. + +"Begorra, I can't see where I'm goin'," said the driver. + +"Ye're all right," Mick shouted; "there's the lamp in the man's windy." + +"Home, shweet home," said Jimmie; "no plache like home." + +"Hurrah, hurrah!" they shouted as the horse splashed into the pond. + +"Jump off, Mister Burke, there's a bit of a puddle by the step," said +Mick. + +"Home, shweet home, me darlinsh," said Jimmie; "lemme shisht ye off +kersh." + +"Come on, we'll help the wife off," said Mick. + +But Jimmie had taken his wife's arm, and as he jumped she jumped too. +Splash they went into the pond, and at the same time a shower of stones +came from the wall. The horse took fright, and started off, the driver +shouting "Murder!" as they raced down the road. + +"In the name a' God, where am I?" shouted Mrs Burke. + +But she got no answer, for Jimmie, with the help of Mick and Patsy, was +taking back ducks in the pond. Mrs Burke splashed towards the light, +going deeper every step. + +"Ye ould villain, will ye come an' help me out?" she screamed. "Sure, +it's ruinin' me dress an' me new boots I am." + +Then the light went out, and a moment later there was a gurgling cry, +followed by shrieks and cries of murder. In the middle of it all +voices were heard coming along the road from the village, and the sound +of the car coming back. + +"Hist!" said Mick. "Home." + +"Och, I'm wet to the skin," said Patsy as they ran along the road, "but +ould Jimmie's far wetter." + +"He's as dry as the wife," said Jane, "for I ducked her three times; +she went down awful easy." + +"It was me helpin' ye," said Fly; "I had her by the leg." + +"Wasn't it quare an' good a' God to make the pond that deep?" said +Honeybird. "It must 'a' been Him put it into Patsy's head to duck +them." + +"That's why He made it rain so hard this mornin'," said Jane, "an' me +thought there was no manin' in it." + +"It was the finest bit of vengeance I iver seen," said Patsy. "Ould +Jimmie was as light as a cork, an' we soused him up an' down till there +wasn't a breath left in him." + +"I wonder what Lull'll say when she sees our clothes," said Jane; "me +very shimmy's wet." But, to their surprise, when they woke next +morning clean clothes had been put out for them, and when they came +downstairs Lull only said: "Has any of ye tuk a cold?" + +"No, we haven't," said Jane. + +"Well, then, don't name it to yer mother," Lull said, and left them +wondering how she had found out. + +Andy Graham called them into the stable after breakfast. + +"Did ye hear the news?" he said. + +"What news?" said Mick. + +"The news about the weddin'," Andy said. "Didn't Lull tell ye about +it? Sure, the whole place is ringin' with it. Poor ould Jimmie Burke +an' the wife were near kilt last night. A pack of ruffians stopped the +ker at the ould pond, an' ducked both him an' the wife. He was that +full a' waiter they had to hould him up by the heels an' let it run +out; an' the wife covered with black mud from head to fut." + +"Who done it?" said Patsy, looking Andy in the face. + +"Who done it, do ye say?" said Andy--"sure, that's what I'd like to +know myself. There wasn't wan out a' the village but what was waitin' +at the man's own dour when the ker come up, an ne'ery a wan on it but +the driver, shoutin' murder, an' when the neighbours went back along +the road there was Jimmie an' the wife in the middle a' the pond, and +niver a sowl else to be seen." + +Mick laughed. "Ye're the fly ould boy, Andy," he said; "an' I must say +ye done it right well, but didn't ye get awful wet when ye were duckin' +them?" + +Andy stared at him. + +"It's all right, Andy; we'll niver name it," said Patsy. "An' I +wouldn't 'a' blamed ye if ye'd 'a' drownded the both a' them." + +Andy whistled. "Ye've as much brass as would make a dour knocker," he +said. "But, see here, the next time yous are on the war pad don't be +lavin' circumstantial evidence behind ye." He brought out from behind +the door an old rag doll, soaking wet. + +"Och a nee!" wailed Honeybird, "it was me done that. I hadn't the +heart to lave her at home," she explained. "She's Bloody Mary, an' I +thought she'd enjoy the vengeance." + +"I thought I knowed her when I seen her lyin' at the side a' the pond +this mornin," said Andy. "An', mind ye, I'm not blamin' ye, an' I'm +not sayin' but what Jimmie an' the wife disarved it, but ye'd better +keep a quiet tongue in yer heads. There's nobuddy but meself an' Lull +knows who done it, and nobuddy'll iver know. It's all very well for a +wheen a' neighbours to do the like, but it's no work for quality to be +doin'." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +JANE AT MISS COURTNEY'S SCHOOL + +Jane hated going to school. She had begged to be allowed to go on +doing lessons with Mr Rannigan, though he had said five children were +too many for him at his age. Then she had begged to be allowed to go +to a boys' school with Mick. But all her pleadings were in vain. Lull +had arranged that she was to go to the select young ladies' school that +Aunt Mary had attended when she was a girl. Lull secretly hoped that +contact with the select young ladies would make Jane a little bit more +genteel. Every morning, driving into town on the car with Andy, Jane +mourned to Mick for the good days that were gone. Mick annoyed her by +liking the change. His school was quite pleasant. + +"How'd ye like to be me," she asked him, "goin' to a school where +whativer ye do it's always wrong?" + +She hid her unhappiness from Lull, partly because Lull had taken such +pride in sending her to Miss Courtney's, partly because she could not +have told Lull the offences for which she was reproved--offences no one +would have noticed at home. + +In spite of an eager desire to be good and polite Jane was constantly +accused of being wicked and rude. Mr Rannigan had never found fault +with her manners, but Miss Courtney sent her back three times one day +to re-enter the room because she bobbed her head and said: "Mornin'," +when she came in. Jane, in bewilderment, repeated the offence, and was +punished. "I wisht I'd 'a' knowed what it was she wanted," she +complained to Mick. "If I had I'd 'a' done it at wanst." + +She gathered that, in school, it was considered a sin to speak like the +poor. Miss Courtney said a lady should have an English accent, and a +voice like a silvery wave. Jane trembled every time she had to speak +to her. In other things besides pronunciation she never knew when she +was doing right or wrong. + +She was reproved for shaking hands with a housemaid, and sent into the +corner for putting a spelling-book on the top of a Bible. School was a +strange world to her. To speak with an English accent, to have a +mother who wore real lace and a father who did no work, these things +made you a lady, and if you were not a lady you were despised. Jane +could tell the girls nothing about her father. Her pronunciation was +shocking, and the girls made fun of her magenta stockings and home-made +clothes. If only Mick had been with her Jane felt she could have borne +anything. She was terribly home-sick every day. From the time Andy +left her in the morning she counted the minutes till he would come to +take her back again to Rowallan and people who were kind. But it was +only to Mick she told her trouble. He said Miss Courtney was a fool, +and Jane trembled lest Miss Courtney might overhear it six miles away. +She was almost as frightened of the big girls as of Miss Courtney. +They wore such elegant clothes, and had such power to sting with their +tongues. One day when Jane, in joyful haste, was putting on her hat to +go home three of the big girls came into the cloakroom. They were +talking eagerly. One of them mentioned Jane's name, then asked Jane +how much she was going to give towards Miss Courtney's birthday +present. She explained that they always gave her a beautiful present +each year. "What is the good of asking her?" said another, "she's +hasn't a penny, I'm sure." The scorn in her voice seemed to scorch +Jane. + +"I'll give five shillin's," she said calmly. She had not as many +pennies in the world, but she could not bear to be despised. The big +girls were delighted. They were quite kind to her. Jane promised to +bring the money next day. All the way home she prayed that God would +send her five shillings. She would not ask Lull for it--Lull was too +poor; Jane would rather have confessed to the big girls that she had no +money than take it from Lull. She prayed earnestly before going to +bed, she woke in the night to pray, but morning came, and she was on +her way to school without the money. When she got off the car at the +end off the street she was still praying, hoping that at the last +moment she would find the money on the pavement at her feet. Suddenly +Mick's voice startled her. "Ten shillin's reward! Lost, a red settler +dog." He was reading a poster on the wall. Jane laughed with glee. +She thanked God for His goodness before she read the poster. Here was +the money, and five shillings over. She expected to see the lost dog +at the end of the street. She read the poster carefully. The red +setter answered to the name of Toby. Nothing could be more easy to +find. Mick dropped their schoolbags over a wall among some laurel +bushes, and they started on the search. They began with the street +they were in, calling Toby up one side and down the other. But they +got no answer. Then they went on to the next, and so on from street to +street. They saw brown dogs, black dogs, white dogs, yellow dogs, but +no sign of a red setter. When they had searched the principal streets +they tried the back streets. Jane called the dog's name till she was +hoarse, and then Mick called in his turn. They asked a policeman if he +had seen Toby. "A settler dog! I niver heerd tell a' that breed," he +said. "Where did you loss it?" + +"We niver lost it, we're only lukin' for it," said Jane. + +The policeman thought for a moment. "I think I know where I could lay +my han' on a nice wee coally pup, if that'd content ye," he said. + +Jane thanked him kindly, and they continued their search. When they +had been walking for about two hours Mick began to despair. + +"We're sure to fin' it," Jane assured him. "Somebuddy's stole it; +let's luk in people's back yards." Back yards were hard to get at in +town. They listened for barks, and followed up the sound. Three times +a bark led them back by different ways to the same dog. Then they were +chased by owners of back yards, and once Jane tore her frock climbing +over a shed. Jane never thought of giving in. The lost dog was to be +sent in answer to her prayer to give her the money she needed so badly. +At last they came to an open door, through which they saw into a yard, +and there by a kennel sat a big red dog. Jane gave a shout of joy. + +"Toby, good Toby!" she called. "Is it here ye're settlin', and' us +lukin' the town for ye?" The dog was chained, but they unfastened him, +and with the help of a slice of bread and butter Jane had with her for +luncheon they coaxed him from the yard. It was well they kept him on +the chain, for once they got out Toby began to run. He was a big dog, +and pulled hard. Both the children held tight to the chain, and still +he pulled them at a run through the streets. At last they were so +tired they had to rest. They sat down on a curbstone, with Toby +between them, and were just beginning to discuss the reward when a +heavy hand fell on Mick's shoulder. It was the school porter. In +spite of their protests he insisted that Mick was playing truant, and +marched him off to school. Jane, left alone with Toby, debated what +she ought to do. The reward was to be got in a village three or four +miles at the other side of Rowallan, so she would have to wait and go +back with Andy. But there was still an hour and a half before he would +call at Miss Courtney's to take her home. She decided that it was her +duty to go back to school till he came. She could explain to Miss +Courtney that Toby was a valuable dog she had found. She could also +tell the big girls, with perfect truth, that she would bring five +shillings next day. When she got up to go Toby started at the same +bounding pace, dragging her through mud and puddles. But she got him +to the place where Mick had hidden the schoolbags. Then, with her bag +in her hand, she stood for a moment in doubt. + +"I wouldn't take ye if I didn't think ye'd be as good as gold," she +said. Toby wagged his tail. As she was taking off her hat in the +cloakroom she warned him once more that he must be good. He seemed to +understand perfectly, and walked quietly by her side to the schoolroom +door. When she opened the door everybody looked up; there was a murmur +of astonishment, and before she could stop him Toby had bounded from +her, and was barking furiously at the infant class. All the children +screamed. Jane did her best to catch him, but he got away from her. +The big girls jumped on tables and forms, the little ones huddled +behind each other. Miss Courtney stood on a chair. + +"He'll not hurt ye," Jane tried to assure them. "Quit yer yellin', an' +he'll be as quiet as a lamb." + +"Turn him out, turn him out!" screamed Miss Courtney. At last Jane +succeeded in catching Toby by the collar. + +"Ye bad ruffan," she said, "scarin' the wits out a' iverybody." The +noise died down except for the wailing of a few children who were still +frightened. Miss Courtney rang for a servant, and ordered her to turn +the dog out. Jane explained that this was impossible; Toby was a +valuable dog she had found, and she must take him home to his owner. +Miss Courtney would not listen to her. The dog was to be sent away at +once. Jane, when she saw Miss Courtney was frightened of Toby, said +she would take him away herself. But, to her surprise, this was not +allowed. She was to stay, and the dog was to go. Miss Courtney would +not listen to reason. It was nothing to her that Toby was valuable, +that there was ten shillings reward for him, that Jane had had great +trouble finding him. Jane was a wicked girl, she said, and the dog +must go. Jane could not see why she was in disgrace--she had done +nothing wrong. It was Toby who had frightened them. But astonishment +soon gave place to tears. Miss Courtney made it plain that she must be +obeyed. The servant, afraid to touch Toby herself, led Jane weeping to +the front door to turn him out. The moment the door was opened Toby +bounded away, dragging his chain after him. Once he stopped to look +back; then, as Jane did not follow, he went on alone. The servant was +unsympathetic; she knew nothing of the bewildered disappointment in +Jane's heart. She said Jane deserved to be whipped. A far more awful +punishment was in store. Jane was condemned to stand in the corner +till she had fulfilled all the hours she had wasted in the streets. +Jane was terrified. She forgot the disgrace, forgot the lost reward, +forgot the scorn the big girls would heap on her when they found she +had no money. If she had to stay there till six o'clock Andy would go +away without her, and she would have to walk all those long miles back +to Rowallan in the dark alone. She begged Miss Courtney to let her go; +she prayed God to soften Miss Courtney's heart. But it was all in +vain. When the other children went home a Bible was put into her +hands, and she was told to learn the fifty-first Psalm. She got no +further than "Have mercy upon me, O God." Misery such as she had never +known before overwhelmed her. Perhaps she would never get home again. +Anything might happen in those long, long hours. Everybody might die +in her absence. Perhaps, when she got out of school at last, and +tramped the long miles home, and ran past the shadow of the gates up +the dark avenue, she would put her hand on the bell, and hear it echo +in an empty house. Everyone would have grown up and gone away years +ago, and left her. + +The light began to fade from the sky, and Jane could bear her misery no +longer. She determined to run away. She crept quietly across the +floor to the door. As she opened it she heard Miss Courtney's footstep +on the stairs. For a moment Jane's heart was sick with fear; then, in +despair, she ducked her head, and charged for freedom. Miss Courtney +went down three steps backwards way. Jane never stopped. She seized +her coat and hat, and ran out into the street. There at the gate was +the car, with Andy and Mick waiting for her. She gave a sob of relief +at the sight. + +"Drive quick, Andy," she begged as she climbed up; "I'm feared I've +kilt her." + +"Ould divil," said Mick sympathetically. "One a' the girls tould me +what she done. All I got was a slap with the cane." + +Jane was laughing and crying by turns. "Her two feet was up in the +air, but I'm feared thon crack must 'a' split her skull." + +When she was calmer Mick broke the news that Toby was not a red setter +at all. "It's a wonder the polis wasn't after yez," said Andy from the +other side of the car, "stealin' dogs out a' people's back yards." +Jane did not mind about Toby. She said it did not matter now, for she +was never going back to Miss Courtney's again. She told Lull +everything that evening. Lull thought Miss Courtney would forgive her, +but Jane refused to go near the hated place again. So Patsy was sent +to school with Mick, and Jane went back to do lessons with Mr Rannigan. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +AN ENGLISH AUNT + +No one had invited the English aunt to come over, so when a letter +arrived one morning saying she would be with them that same day, and +would they send the carriage to the station to meet her, everyone was +surprised. The children were delighted at the thought of a visit from +an unknown aunt: they had thought Aunt Mary was the only aunt they had. +This strange Aunt Charlotte was their mother's sister, and, Patsy said, +she was sure to bring them a present in her trunk. But Lull went about +the house, getting ready a room in the nursery passage, dusting the +drawing-room, and opening the windows, with a look in her eyes that was +not of pleasure. + +"Don't ye want Aunt Charlotte to come?" Jane asked her. + +"Want her?" Lull snapped. "Why couldn't she come when she was wanted +sore? What kep' her then, an' me prayin' night an' day for her?" + +Jane stopped in the middle of the drawing-room floor with a soup tureen +full of dog-daisies in her hands. + +"There, I'll quit bletherin'!" Lull added. "None of yous mind, thank +God, but--if I had 'a' had a young sister struck dumb in morshial agony +haythen Turks wouldn't 'a' kep' me from her." + +Lull flounced out of the room, and Jane was left standing in the middle +of the floor. She had never heard Lull speak like that before. What +did she mean? A young sister, she had said; their mother was the only +sister Aunt Charlotte had. When was their mother struck dumb and Aunt +Charlotte wouldn't come? Jane went out to the stable, where Andy +Graham was putting the horse in the car. Honeybird was brushing his +top hat for him at the far end of the stable, but Jane did not see her. + +"Andy, when was mother struck dumb in morshial agony?" she said. + +Andy dropped a trace. "By the holy poker! what put that in yer head?" +he said. + +"Lull said Aunt Charlotte wouldn't come when she was wanted sore, an' +her young sister was struck dumb in morshial agony," said Jane. + +"An' a fine ould clashbag Lull was to say the word," said Andy, picking +up the trace. + +"Tell us, Andy, an' I'll niver name it," said Jane. + +"See here, Miss Jane," said Andy, "it's no talk for the likes a' yous +to be hearin'. Sure, there's niver a wan would mind it at all if it +wasn't for that ould targe of a Lull, an' it be to be as far back as +the flood for her to forget." + +"Go on, Andy; tell a buddy," Jane begged, "an' I'll not come over it to +a livin' sowl." + +"Sure, ye know all I know myself," said Andy. "The mistress was tarble +bad, an' they sent for yer Aunt Charlotte, an' she wouldn't come." + +"Why wouldn't she?" said Jane. + +"God knows," said Andy. "She wouldn't, and Lull was clean dimented at +the time for the want of her. An' I'm tellin' ye it got yer Aunt +Charlotte an ill name about the place. There's many's the wan has it +agin her to this day." + +"Have you, Andy?" said Jane. + +"Is it me! God forgive me, I could bear no malice. An' see an' forgit +it yerself Miss Jane, for she'll be the good aunt to ye all yit." + +Jane went slowly back to the house. She would have liked to consult +Mick about it, but she had promised not to tell. The only thing to do +was to wait till she could ask Aunt Charlotte herself. + +Mick went to the station on the car to meet Aunt Charlotte. The others +waited at the gate, two on each of the stone lions, to give a cheer +when she arrived. + +It was a long drive from the station, and they were stiff and cramped +before the car came back, but Jane would not let them get down, for +fear the car might turn the corner while they were down, and Aunt +Charlotte would not get a proper welcome. + +It came at last, and they hurrahed till they were hoarse. Aunt +Charlotte sat on one side, and Mick on the other. There was a tin box +between them on the well of the car. As the car came nearer they saw +that Mick was making signs, shaking his head and frowning, and when the +car turned in at the gate Aunt Charlotte looked straight in front of +her, and did not even glance at the welcoming party on the lions. + +They got down, and followed up the avenue. In a minute they were +joined by Mick. "Let's hide," he said; "she's an ould divil." + +Silently they turned away from the house, across the lawn, and dropped +over the wall into the road. They went up the road till they came to +an opening in the wall on the other side, where they filed through, and +struck out across the fields. Sheep were feeding on the spongy grass, +and as they got farther away from home rocks and boulders began to +appear, and at last a long line of clear blue sea. Mick led the way +till they came to a flat rock jutting out like a shelf over the sea, +and here they sat down. + +"What did she do?" Jane asked. + +"She said I was no gentleman," said Mick. + +"What for?" + +Mick began his tale. + +"When the train come in I went up to her, an' sez I: 'How'r' ye?' Sez +she: 'Who are you?' Sez I: 'I'm Michael Darragh.' 'Is it possible?' +sez she, an' ye should 'a' seen the ould face on her. Sez I: 'The +car's waitin'.' 'Then tell the man to come for my luggage,' sez she." + +"Oh Mick," gasped Jane, "what did ye do?" + +"I didn't know what to do. I didn't like to say right out that Andy +had got no livery on his legs, and daren't strip off the rug. So I +sez: 'We'll get a porter to carry it out.' 'No,' sez she; 'I'd have to +tip him. Tell the coachman to come.'" + +"As mane as dirt," said Patsy. + +"Sez I: 'He can't come, Aunt Charlotte, 'cause he can't get off the +dickey.' 'What's the matter with him?' sez she. I was afraid I'd tell +a lie, but I thought a bit, an' then I sez: 'He's disable.'" + +"Good for you, Mickey Free!" Jane shouted. + +"But it wasn't good, for when we started she begun astin' Andy what +ailed him. Andy didn't know, so he said he was in the best of good +health. Sez she: 'My nephew tould me you had been disabled.' 'Divil a +fut, mem,' sez Andy; 'I'm as well as ye are yerself.' She got as red +as fire, an' sez she: 'No gentleman tells lies, Michael!" Mick's face +was white with anger. + +"But ye tould no lie, Mickey dear," said Fly. + +"An' ye couldn't tell her Andy had no white breeches," said Patsy. + +"Dear forgive her," said Jane bitterly, "an' we thought she was an +aunt." + +They did not go home till it was getting dark. When they went into the +kitchen Lull was sitting by the fire. "Well," she said, "did ye see +yer Aunt Charlotte; she's out lukin' for ye?" + +"She can luk till she's black for all I care," said Jane. + +Their mother was sitting up in bed when they went in to say good-night, +and they saw she had been crying. + +"You are the best children in the world," she said, "but your Aunt +Charlotte thinks you are barbarians." + +"She's an ould divil, an' we just hate the sight a' her," said Patsy. + +"'Deed, an' there's more than yous does that," said Lull. + +"Hush, Lull," said their mother; "she is my sister, after all." + +"Purty sister," Lull snorted, "comin' where she's not wanted, upsettin' +everybuddy with her talk a' ruination." + +"It's true, it's true," Mrs Darragh wailed, and began to cry again. + +Lull hurried the children out of the room; they heard her comforting +their mother as they went down the passage. They went to bed with +heavy hearts. Jane said her prayers three times over, then cried +herself to sleep. + +Next morning Aunt Charlotte was down early. Fly and Patsy, who had +been out to see if the gooseberries were ripe, met her in the hall as +they came back. + +"Good morning," she said. "I don't think I saw you yesterday. What +are your names?" + +"I am Fly, an' he is Patsy," Fly answered. + +"What?" said Aunt Charlotte. + +"Fly an' Patsy," Fly repeated, and was going past, but Aunt Charlotte +pounced on some gooseberries Fly had in her pinafore. "What are you +going to do with these?" she said. + +"Ripe them," said Patsy, trying to get past. + +"You cannot ripen green gooseberries off the bushes," said Aunt +Charlotte. + +"'Deed, then, ye just can," said Fly; "ye squeeze them till they're +soft, an' then ye suck them till they're sweet." + +"I am sure your nurse cannot allow you to do anything so disgusting," +said Aunt Charlotte. + +At this moment Lull came out of the schoolroom, where she had been +laying the table for breakfast. + +"M'Leary!" said Aunt Charlotte--they had never heard Lull called that +before--"surely you cannot allow the children to eat such poisonous +stuff as unripe gooseberries?" + +Lull's eyes flashed fire for a second, then she said: "You lave them to +me, mem," and took Fly and Patsy off to the kitchen, where they +squeezed and sucked the gooseberries in peace. + +At breakfast Aunt Charlotte asked questions about everything: who their +neighbours were; where they visited; where they went to church. + +"You see," she said, "I have not been here before, so you must tell me +everything about your surroundings now." + +"Why didn't ye come afore?" said Jane eagerly. "When ye were wanted +sore, what kept ye then?" + +"Little girls cannot understand the motives of their elders," Aunt +Charlotte said sharply. "I was far from well, and the country was +disturbed." + +"What's disturbed?" said Patsy. + +Her back stiffened. "Your fellow-countrymen were in a wicked state of +rebellion against the powers ordained by God," she said. + +"'Deed, an' who wouldn't fight the polis?" said Patsy. "Ye should 'a' +seen the gran' fight we had last week on the twelfth." + +"I understood that everything was quiet," Aunt Charlotte murmured. + +"Lull was prayin' night an' day for ye to come. She was clean dimented +for the want of ye," Jane went on, hoping Aunt Charlotte would explain. +But Aunt Charlotte did nothing of the kind. + +"We will not discuss the matter," she said; "I have told you it was +impossible for me to come." + +"I'm tellin' ye it got ye an ill name about the place," said Honeybird, +looking up from her porridge; "there's many's a one has it agin ye to +this day." + +The children looked at each other in surprise. Honeybird had a way of +repeating things she had picked up; but only Jane knew where she could +have heard this, and a kick from Jane told her to be quiet. Aunt +Charlotte's knife and fork dropped with a clatter on her plate. Her +face was white as chalk. For a minute no one spoke. Aunt Charlotte +drank some coffee, and shut her eyes. The children thought she had +forgotten to say her grace till now; they went on with their breakfast, +and in a few minutes she spoke again. + +"I suppose you all like toys," she said. + +The three younger ones brightened up. + +"You know there are beautiful toys to be had in London, and I did think +of bringing you some, but, then, I thought that out here in the +country, with so many trees and flowers to play with, it would be like +bringing coals to Newcastle." + +They understood that she had brought nothing. Mick and Jane looked +relieved, but Honeybird's eyes filled with tears. "Niver a wee dawl?" +she said. + +"What does she mean?" said Aunt Charlotte. "Oh, a little doll; the +child speaks like a peasant." + +No one answered. Honeybird's tears dropped into her lap. Fly passed +her a ripened gooseberry under the table. + +After breakfast Aunt Charlotte said they must show her the gardens and +the stable. They had meant to go out bathing, and stay away all day; +but there was no escaping from her, so they started off, to the stables +first. + +Aunt Charlotte shook her head over everything. + +"Disgraceful neglect," they heard her say. + +"We'll soon make it grand when our ship comes in," said Jane. + +"What a strange expression," said Aunt Charlotte. "And, pray, when +will that be?" + +"God knows, for I don't," said Honeybird, repeating what Andy Graham +always said when they asked him that question. + +Aunt Charlotte looked at Honeybird, who was playing with the cat. "Do +you know that you have taken your Maker's name in vain?" she said. "Go +back to the house at once, you wicked child." + +Honeybird stared, her grey eyes growing wider and wider. + +"Do you hear me?" said Aunt Charlotte. "Go into the house at once." + +With a gasp of horror Honeybird turned back across the yard, and they +heard her go into the kitchen, sobbing: "Poor, poor wee me!" + +"Now take me to see the kitchen garden," said Aunt Charlotte. + +"Ould Davy'll be mad if we do," said Jane. + +"I wish you would speak more distinctly," said Aunt Charlotte, "I +cannot understand what you say." + +"I on'y said ould Davy'd be cross," said Jane. + +"What is his name? Who is he?" said Aunt Charlotte. + +"'Deed, he's just ould Davy," said Patsy; "thon's him in among the +cur'n' bushes." + +But ould Davy spoke for himself. + +"Be off wid yer," he shouted; "away home ar this, or if I catch the +hould a' yer I'll cut yer throats." + +"I tould ye he'd be cross," said Jane. + +But Aunt Charlotte was running back to the house as fast her legs would +carry her. + +"She's feared," said Jane joyfully. + +Patsy danced. "It'd be quare fun to take her to see Jane Dyer," he +said. + +They laughed at the thought till they had to sit down on the path. + +"I wisht I could come with ye," said Jane, "but ould Jane's friends +with me, so I can't." + +"No; ye'll have to stay at home, Janey dear," said Mick; "she wouldn't +lift a finger if she saw ye with us." + +"It's all because I tuk her them ould boots," said Jane; "but yous +three can go; an' mind ye run the minute she throws the first stone, +for if ye stan' an' face her she's like a lamb." + +A few minutes later Mick and Fly and Patsy came into the drawing-room, +and asked Aunt Charlotte if she would like to go for a walk; they were +going down to the sea, they said. Aunt Charlotte said she would be +delighted to go. She put on her hat and gloves, and they started. On +each side of the road was a wall of loose stones bound together by moss +and brambles. In the distance, to their right, rose the mountains, and +a turn of the road about a mile from home brought them in sight of the +sea. They passed through the village, a long road of whitewashed +cottages, with here and there a fuchsia bush by a door, a line of +bright nasturtiums under a window, or a potato patch dotted with curly +kale by the side of a house. Farther down the street the church stood +back from the road in a graveyard full of tombstones and weeds. Aunt +Charlotte said she was interested in churches, so they stopped to look +at it. Coming back through the graveyard Mick showed her the +tombstones of the rebels, with skull and crossbones on the top, and the +grave of a great-uncle of theirs, who had been hanged at the time of +the rebellion for deserting his friends. + +"Serve him right, the ould traitor," said Patsy. + +Aunt Charlotte was shocked. "If he was your great-uncle you should +think of him with respect," she said. + +"An' him an informer!" said Mick; "'deed, I'd 'a' kilt him myself, so I +would. Andy Graham sez he'd 'a' japped the brains out a' him." + +"Lull sez she'd 'a' napped him on the head with a wee blackthorn," said +Fly. "But whist," she added, "I do believe the ould ruffian's lyin' in +his grave listenin' to us." + +Aunt Charlotte shivered. As they were going down the steps Patsy +stopped. "Look at them two ould rats," he said, "sittin' there on the +wall like ould men. They're just sayin' which of us all will be +brought here the first." + +Aunt Charlotte gave a little scream, and ran out into the road. "You +children have such morbid minds," she said; "indeed," with a little +laugh, "you have made me quite nervous." + +About five minutes' walk from the village they came to a lane that ran +down to the sea, black mud underfoot and stone walls on each side. The +lane widened into a small farmyard. There was a low cottage, a stack +of peat, and two or three hens picking about in the mud. + +"What a squalid scene!" said Aunt Charlotte. "Is it possible that any +human being can live here?" + +The children did not answer, for, to their disappointment, the door was +shut. "She's out!" Mick said. + +A few yards from the cottage the land ended on the seashore. The sand +was covered with brown seaweed; a cart filled with it was propped up on +stones. Bits of cork and wood were strewn about in every direction, +and beyond the line of dry seaweed there were big round stones covered +with golden brown seaweed, still wet, for the tide was only half-way +out. + +Aunt Charlotte didn't like this sea very much. She said it was all so +untidy. Not even the beautiful green crabs that Fly caught under the +wet seaweed pleased her, so after a few minutes they turned back. The +children were afraid that Jane Dyer would not have come home yet, but +just as they passed the cottage Aunt Charlotte suddenly gripped hold of +Mick's arm. + +"Who is that," she said sharply; "there, coming down the lane?" Fly +gave a hysterical giggle. Coming towards them down the lane was a tall +figure dressed in an old green ulster coat, tied in round the waist by +an apron; white hair fell about a flat white face, and big bare feet +splashed in the mud. As it came it muttered and frowned and shook its +fist. + +"Who is it, I say?" said Aunt Charlotte. + +"It's Jane Dyer," said Mick. + +Patsy gave a loud 'Hee-haw,' that was supposed to remind Jane of her +dead donkey, and always made her wild with rage, even if the sight of +visitors in her lane had not already made her angry. She came swinging +along, muttering and cursing to herself, stopping here and there to +pick up a stone, till her apron was full. Then, with a sudden leap in +the air, she aimed. The stone hit Fly on the shin; she gave a yell of +pain, and was over the wall in a second. The boys followed, while a +volley of stones and curses came from the lane. Aunt Charlotte was +left behind. They heard her scrambling over the wall, the loose stones +rolling off as she scrambled, and as they ran they could hear her +panting: "My God, my God, this is awful!" + +Two fields away the boys found Fly sitting on a bank nursing her leg. +"Did ye hear her takin' her Maker's name in vain?" said Patsy, and he +rolled on the grass with laughter. + +"I niver seen ould Jane in better fettle," said Mick. + +"If we'd had any wit we'd 'a' set Sammy on her too," said Fly. + +"We'll do it yit," said Patsy, and there and then they began to run +like hares along the road to the cottage where Sammy lived. Sammy was +an innocent, and lived in a one-roomed cottage on the roadside that was +entirely hidden from sight by the rowan-trees that grew round it. He +was a little old man, who spent his days attending to his sister's pig. +There was not a more peaceable soul in the countryside, but on the +subject of the pig Sammy could be roused to fury. He talked to it, +sang to it, fed it out of his hand. When he walked about the fields +the pig followed at his heels, when he sat on the doorstep it lay at +his feet. But if one of the village children threw a stone at it, or +if any threatened in joke to harm it, Sammy was beside himself with +rage, and it was an insult he never forgot. Twice a week he came to +Rowallan for the refuse and broken meat, and, next to the pig, he loved +the children. He was at home when they knocked at the door, and came +out at once. + +"M-m-m-m-mornin'!" he stammered. + +They were out of breath, and could hardly speak. Sammy began to look +frightened; it was so easy to scare his few wits away. + +"Oh, Sammy, she's comin' after yer pig," Fly panted. + +"Wh-wh-wh-where?" Sammy shouted. + +"Along the road," said Patsy; "she'll be here in a minute; a long +string of a woman with a black dress on. She's clean mad to get at it; +ye'd better be out, an' chase her." + +"L-l-l-l-let me at her!" roared Sammy, picking up his bucket. + +"She's comin' to kill it, Sammy," said Mick; "she come all the way from +England to do it." + +Sammy was dancing on the doorstep. "Hide down behind the wall till she +comes," said Patsy, and they pulled Sammy down with them. + +"Whist, Sammy; be quiet, man, till she comes," said Mick--for Sammy was +snorting and quivering. "I'll give ye the word when I see her." + +[Illustration: "Whist, Sammy, be quiet, man, till she comes," said Mick] + +In about five minutes Aunt Charlotte came in sight. They saw her +through the holes in the wall, limping slowly, and looking back over +her shoulder every few steps. Her hair was down, and she was trying to +fasten it up. Mick nudged Fly and Patsy not to speak, and gave Aunt +Charlotte time to pass the cottage before he said: "Here she comes, +Sammy." Sammy jumped up, and out on to the road, waving his bucket +over his head, and roaring: "Ye-ye-ye-ye ould butcher, E-e-e-e-english +butcher, I'll-'ll-'ll-'ll bite ye." + +There was a half-stifled scream as Aunt Charlotte turned for a second, +and the next moment she was out of sight. Sammy danced on the road, +and yelled after her till he was hoarse, then he came back to where the +children were crouched down behind the wall. + +"S-s-s-she was aff like the wind, af-af-af-fore I could touch her," he +said, "b-b-but I'll kill her th-th-the next time." + +They shook hands with him, and told him he was a brave man. Then they +went down to the sea, and bathed, and stayed out till it was tea-time. +Jane and Honeybird met them at the door when they got home. "She's +away back to England," they chanted. + +The others could hardly believe their ears. "She came back all mud and +dirt," said Jane, "with her hair a-hingin' in her eyes, an' said we +were all haythens an' savages, an' she wouldn't stay another day in +this blackguardy country." + +Lull questioned them while they were having supper. "An' what an' iver +did ye do to send yer Aunt Charlotte home like thon?" she said. + +"'Deed, we just tuk her to see Jane Dyer," said Patsy. + +Lull looked at him for a minute. "There's a hape a' wisdom in a +chile," she said at last. + + + + + +THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH. + + + +[Transcriber's note: the HTML version of this ebook contains page scans +of the publisher's catalogue.] + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Weans at Rowallan, by Kathleen Fitzpatrick + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WEANS AT ROWALLAN *** + +***** This file should be named 31362.txt or 31362.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/6/31362/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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