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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/9329-h.zip b/9329-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a9010aa --- /dev/null +++ b/9329-h.zip diff --git a/9329-h/9329-h.htm b/9329-h/9329-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4751dd2 --- /dev/null +++ b/9329-h/9329-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8144 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys, by Gulielma Zollinger</title> +<meta HTTP-EQUIV="content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=us-ascii"> + + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + * { font-family: Times;} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + font-size: 14pt; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; } + // --> + </style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys, by Gulielma Zollinger + +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 Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + +Author: Gulielma Zollinger + +Posting Date: September 26, 2012 [EBook #9329] +Release Date: November, 2005 +First Posted: September 23, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIDOW O'CALLAGHAN'S BOYS *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, David Garcia, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + + <center> + <img src="images/ill00f.png" width="400" height="664" alt= + "[Illustration: CAN'T I DIPIND ON YE B'YS?]"> + </center> + + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h1> + The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + </h1> + <center> + <b>BY GULIELMA ZOLLINGER</b><br> + (1904, 10th edition) + </center> + <p> + + </p> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <h2> + ILLUSTRATIONS + </h2> + <p> + Can't I depind on ye, b'ys? + </p> + <p> + It's your father's ways you have + </p> + <p> + For every one carried something + </p> + <p> + "Cheer up, Andy!" he said + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brady looked at the tall, slender boy + </p> + <p> + Pat donned his apron + </p> + <p> + "I've good news for you, Fannie," said the General + </p> + <p> + The General makes the gravy + </p> + <p> + Pat doing the marketing + </p> + <p> + Pat and Mike building the kitchen + </p> + <p> + Up on the roof sat Mike with his knife + </p> + <p> + Barney and Tommie a-takin' care of the geese + </p> + <p> + The merchant turned to the girl clerk + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished + </p> + <p> + Little Jim became downright sulky + </p> + <p> + In they came at that moment + </p> + <p> + Jim made a clatter with the dishes + </p> + <p> + Open the oven door, Jim + </p> + <p> + Look at that Jim work + </p> + <p> + Three cheers for Jim O'Callaghan + </p> + <p> + Pat and Mike were one on each side of him + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <center> + Chapter:<br> + <a href="#ch001">I</a> <a href="#ch002">II</a> + <a href="#ch003">III</a> <a href="#ch004">IV</a> + <a href="#ch005">V</a> <a href="#ch006">VI</a> + <a href="#ch007">VII</a> <a href="#ch008">VIII</a> + <a href="#ch009">IX</a> <a href="#ch010">X</a> + <a href="#ch011">XI</a> <a href="#ch012">XII</a> + <a href="#ch013">XIII</a> <a href="#ch014">XIV</a> + <a href="#ch015">XV</a> <a href="#ch016">XVI</a> + <a href="#ch017">XVII</a> <a href="#ch018">XVIII</a> + <a href="#ch019">XIX</a> <a href="#ch020">XX</a> + <a href="#ch021">XXI</a> + </center> + <p> + + </p> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch001"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + When Mr. O'Callaghan died, after a long, severe, and + expensive sickness, he left to his widow a state of unlimited + poverty and seven boys. + </p> + <p> + "Sure, an' sivin's the parfect number," she said through her + tears as she looked round on her flock; "and Tim was the bist + man as iver lived, may the saints presarve him an' rist him + from his dreadful pains!" + </p> + <p> + Thus did she loyally ignore the poverty. It was the last of + February. Soon they must leave the tiny house of three rooms + and the farm, for another renter stood ready to take + possession. There would be nothing to take with them but + their clothing and their scant household furniture, for the + farm rent and the sickness had swallowed up the crop, the + farming implements, and all the stock. + </p> + <p> + Pat, who was fifteen and the oldest, looked gloomily out at + one of the kitchen windows, and Mike, the next brother, a boy + of thirteen, looked as gloomily as he could out of the other. + Mike always followed Pat's lead. + </p> + <p> + When eleven-year-old Andy was a baby Pat had taken him for a + pet. Accordingly, when, two years later, Jim was born, Mike + took him in charge. To-day Pat's arm was thrown protectingly + over Andy's shoulders, while Jim stood in the embrace of + Mike's arm at the other window. Barney and Tommie, aged seven + and five respectively, whispered together in a corner, and + three-year-old Larry sat on the floor at his mother's feet + looking wonderingly up into her face. + </p> + <p> + Five days the father had slept in his grave, and still there + was the same solemn hush of sorrow in the house that fell + upon it when he died. + </p> + <p> + "And what do you intend to do?" sympathetically asked Mrs. + Smith, a well-to-do farmer's wife and a neighbor. + </p> + <p> + The widow straightened her trim little figure, wiped her + eyes, and replied in a firm voice: "It's goin' to town I am, + where there's work to be got, as well as good schoolin' for + the b'ys." + </p> + <p> + "But don't you think that seven boys are almost more than one + little woman can support? Hadn't you better put some of them + out—for a time?"—the kind neighbor was quick to + add, as she saw the gathering frown on the widow's face. + </p> + <p> + "Sure," she replied, 'twas the Lord give me the b'ys, an' + 'twas the Lord took away their blissid father. Do ye think + He'd 'a' done ayther wan or the other if He hadn't thought I + could care for 'em all? An' I will, too. It may be we'll be + hungry—yis, an' cold, too—wanst in a while. But + it won't be for long." + </p> + <p> + "But town is a bad place for boys, I'm told," urged the + neighbor. + </p> + <p> + "Not for mine," answered the widow quietly. "They're their + father's b'ys, an' I can depind on 'em. They moind me + loightest word. Come here, Pat, an' Moike, an' Andy, an' Jim, + an' Barney, an' Tommie!" + </p> + <p> + Obediently the six drew near. She raised Larry to her lap, + and looked up touchingly into their faces. "Can't I depind on + ye, b'ys?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, mother, course you can," answered Pat for them all. + </p> + <p> + A moment the widow paused to steady her voice, and then + resumed, "It's all settled. A-Saturday I goes to town to get + a place. A-Monday we moves." + </p> + <p> + The neighbor saw that it was indeed settled, and, like a + discreet woman, did not push her counsel further, but + presently took her leave, hoping that the future might be + brighter than it promised for Mrs. O'Callaghan and her boys. + </p> + <hr> + <p> + "Aise 'em up an' down the hills, Pat, the dear bastes that + your father loved!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Callaghan and Pat were driving to Wennott behind the + team that was theirs no longer, and it was Saturday. No need + to speak to Pat. The whip rested in the socket, and he + wished, for his part, that the horses would crawl. He knew + how poor they were, and he did not want to go to town. But + mother said town, and town it must be. + </p> + <p> + Down across the railroad track, a little northeast of the + depot, was a triangular bit of ground containing about as + much as two lots, and on it had been erected a poor little + shanty of two rooms. The widow knew of this place, and she + meant to try to secure it. + </p> + <p> + "'Twill jist do for the loikes of us, Pat, for it's a low + rint we're after, an' a place quiet loike an' free from + obsarvers. If it's poor ye are, well an' good, but, says I, + 'There's no use of makin' a show of it.' For it's not a + pretty show that poverty makes, so it ain't, an', says I, 'A + pretty show or none.' I see you're of my moind," she + continued with a shrewd glance at him, "an' it heartens me + whin ye agree with me, for your father's gone, an' him and me + used to agree wonderful." + </p> + <p> + Pat's lips twitched. He had been very fond of his father. And + all at once it seemed to him that town and the shanty were + the two most desirable things in their future. + </p> + <p> + "But, cheer up, Pat! 'Twas your father as was a loively man, + d'ye moind? Yon's the town. It's hopin' I am that our + business'll soon be done." + </p> + <p> + Pat's face brightened a little, for he found the entry into + even so small a town as Wennott a diversion. To-day he looked + about him with new interest, for here were streets and stores + that were to become familiar to him. They entered the town + from the south and drove directly to its center, where stood + the courthouse in a small square surrounded by an iron + hitching-rack. Stores faced it on every side, and above the + stores were the lawyers' offices. Which one belonged to the + man who had charge of the place the widow wished to rent, she + wondered, and Pat wondered, as she stood by, while he tied + the horses. + </p><img src="images/ill015.png" width="300" height="440" align= + "right" hspace="20" alt= + "[Illustration: It's your father's ways you have.]"> + <p> + Above the stores, too, were doctors' offices, and dentists' + offices, dress-making-shops, and suites of rooms where young + couples and, in some instances, small families lived. + </p> + <p> + "We'll jist be inquirin', Pat. 'Tis the only way. But what to + ask for, I don't know. Shall I be sayin' the bit of a place + beyant the tracks?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, mother. That's what you want, ain't it?" + </p> + <p> + "Sure it is, an' nothin' else, nayther. It's your father's + ways you have, Pat. 'Twas himsilf as wint iver straight after + what he wanted." + </p> + <p> + Pat's eyes beamed and he held himself more proudly. What + higher praise could there be for him than to be thought like + his father? + </p> + <p> + It chanced that the first lawyer they asked was the right + one. + </p> + <p> + "Luck's for us," whispered the little widow. "Though maybe + 'twouldn't have been against us, nayther, if we'd had to hunt + a bit." + </p> + <p> + And then all three set out to look at the poor little + property. + </p> + <p> + "Sure, an' it suits me purpose intoirely," declared Mrs. + O'Callaghan when the bargain had been concluded. "An' it's + home we'll be goin' at wanst. We've naught to be buyin' the + day, seein' we're movin' in on Monday." + </p> + <p> + Pat made no answer. + </p> + <p> + "Did you see thim geese a-squawkin' down by the tracks?" + asked Mrs. O'Callaghan, as she and her son settled themselves + on the high spring seat of the farm wagon. + </p> + <p> + Pat nodded. + </p> + <p> + "There's an idea," said his mother. "There's more than wan in + the world as can raise geese. An' geese is nice atin', too. I + didn't see no runnin' water near, but there's a plinty of + ditches and low places where there'll be water a-standin' a + good bit of the toime. An' thim that can't git runnin' water + must take standin'. Yis, Pat, be they geese or min, in this + world they must take what they can git an' fat up on it as + much as they can, too." + </p> + <p> + The thin little woman—thin from overwork and anxiety + and grief—spoke thus to her tall son, who, from rapid + growing, was thin, too, and she spoke with a soberness that + told how she was trying to strengthen her own courage to meet + the days before her. Absorbed in themselves, mother and son + paid no heed to their surroundings, the horses fell into + their accustomed brisk trot, and they were soon out on the + narrow road that lay between the fields. + </p> + <p> + "Now, Pat, me b'y," said Mrs. O'Callaghan, rousing herself, + "you're the oldest an' I'll tell you my plans. I'm a-goin' to + git washin' to do." + </p> + <p> + The boy looked at his mother in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + "I know I'm little," she nodded back at him, "but it's the + grit in me that makes me strong. I can do it. For Tim's b'ys + an' mine I can do it. Four days in the week I'll wash for + other people, Friday I'll wash for my own, Saturday I'll mind + for 'em, an' Sunday I'll rist." + </p> + <p> + A few moments there was silence. The widow seemed to have no + more to say. + </p> + <p> + "An' what am I to do?" finally burst out Pat. "An' what's + Mike to do? Sure we can help some way." + </p> + <p> + "That you can, Pat. I was comin' to that. Did you notice the + biggest room in the little house we rinted the day?" + </p> + <p> + Pat nodded. + </p> + <p> + "I thought you did. You're an obsarvin' b'y, Pat, jist loike + your father. Well, I belave that room will jist about hold + three beds an' lave a nate little path betwane ivery two of + 'em. It's my notion we can be nate an' clane if we are poor, + an' it'll be your part to make ivery wan of thim beds ivery + day an' kape the floor clane. Larry an' mesilf, we'll slape + in the kitchen, an' it's hopin' I am you'll kape that + shoinin', too. An' then there's the coal to be got in an' the + ashes to be took out. It does seem that iverything you bring + in is the cause of somethin' to be took out, but it can't be + helped, so it can't, so 'Out with it,' says I. An' there's + the dishes to be washed an'—I hate to ask you, Pat, but + do you think you could larn cookin' a bit?" + </p> + <p> + She looked at him anxiously. The boy met her look bravely. + </p> + <p> + "If you can work to earn it, 'tis meself as can cook it, I + guess," he said. + </p> + <p> + "Jist loike your father, you are, Pat. He wasn't niver afraid + of tryin' nothin', an' siven b'ys takes cookin'. An' to hear + you say you'll do it, whin I've larnt you, of course, aises + me moind wonderful. There's some as wouldn't do it, Pat. I'm + jist tellin' you this to let you know you're better than + most." And she smiled upon him lovingly. + </p> + <p> + "If the most of 'em's that mean that they wouldn't do what + they could an' their mother a—washin', 'tis well I'm + better than them, anyway," returned Pat. + </p> + <p> + "Ah, but Pat, they'd think it benathe 'em. 'Tis some grand + thing they'd be doin' that couldn't be done at all. That's + the way with some, Pat. It's grand or nothin', an' sure an' + it's ginerally nothin', I've noticed." + </p> + <p> + A mile they went in silence. And then Mrs. O'Callaghan said: + "As for the rist, you'll all go to school but Larry, an' him + I'll take with me when I go a—washin'. I know I can + foind thim in the town that'll help a poor widow that much, + an' that's all the help I want, too. Bad luck to beggars. I'm + none of 'em." + </p> + <p> + Pat did not respond except by a kindly glance to show that he + heard, and his mother said no more till they drove in at the + farm gate. + </p> + <p> + "An' it's quite the man Pat is," she cried cheerily to the + six who came out to meet them. "You'll do well, all of you, + to pattern by Pat. An' it's movin' we'll be on Monday, jist + as I told you. It's but a small place we've got, as Pat will + tell you there. Close to the north side of the town it is, + down by the railroad tracks, where you can see all the trains + pass by day an' hear 'em by night; an' there's freight cars + standin' about at all toimes that you can look at, an' + they've got iron ladders on the inds of 'em, but you must + niver be goin' a-climbin' on top of thim cars." + </p> + <p> + At this announcement Andy and Jim looked interested, and the + eyes of Barney and Tommie fairly shone with excitement. The + widow had accomplished her object. Her boys were favorably + inclined toward the new home, and she slipped into her + bedroom to shed in secret the tears she could no longer + restrain. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch002"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + Sunday dawned cold and blustering—a sullen day that + seemed hardly to know which way was best to make itself + disagreeable, and so tried them all. The stock had been + removed. There was no work outside for the two oldest boys, + no watching indoors by the hungry little brothers for Pat and + Mike to be through milking, and feeding, and pumping water + into the trough, so that they might all have breakfast + together. Yes, there had been a little work. The two horses + which, with the wagon, had been kindly lent them for their + next day's moving were in the barn. Mike had fed and watered + them, Pat had combed them, and both had petted them. + </p> + <p> + Many a time that day would Mrs. O'Callaghan slip out to + stroke their noses and pat their glossy necks and say in a + choked voice, "Tim's horses! Tim's horses! and we can't kape + 'em!" And many a time that day would she smooth the signs of + grief from her face to go into the house again with what + cheer she could to her seven sons, who were gathered + listlessly about the kitchen stove. Many a time that day + would she tell herself stoutly, "I'll not give in! I'll not + give in! I've to be brave for eight, so I have. Brave for my + b'ys, and brave for mesilf. And shall I fret more than is + good for Tim's horses whin I know it's to a kind master + they're goin', and he himsilf a helpin' us to-morrow with the + movin'? The Lord's will be done! There's thim that thinks the + Lord has no will for horses and such. And 'tis mesilf is + thankful that I can't agree with 'em." + </p> + <p> + Occasionally, as the morning passed, one of the boys stepped + to the window for a moment, for even to glance out at flying + flakes and a wintry landscape was a relief from the + depression that had settled down upon them all. + </p> + <p> + That was a neighborhood of churches. Seven or eight miles + from any town, it was remarkable to see three churches within + half a mile of each other. Small, plain buildings they were, + but they represented the firm convictions of the United + Brethren, the United Presbyterians, and the Methodists for + many miles around. Now all these people, vary as they might + in church creeds, were united in a hearty admiration for + plucky little Mrs. O'Callaghan. They all knew, though the + widow would not own it, that destitution was at her door. The + women feared that in taking her boys to town she was taking + them to their ruin, while the men thought her course the only + one, since a destitute woman can hardly run a farm with only + seven growing boys to help her. And for a day or two there + had been busy riding to and fro among the neighbors. + </p> + <p> + The snow fell fitfully, and the wind howled in gusts, but + every farmer hitched up and took his wife and children with + him, and no family went empty-handed. For every road to every + church lay straight by the widow's door. Short cuts there + were to be used on general occasions, but that morning there + was but the one road. And so it fell out that by ten o'clock + there was a goodly procession of farm wagons, with here and + there a buggy, and presently the widow's fence was lined with + teams, and the men, women, and children were alighting and + thronging up the narrow path to Mrs. O'Callaghan's door. + There was no merriment, but there was a kindly look on every + face that was beautiful to see. And there were those between + whom bitterness had been growing that smiled upon each other + to-day, as they jostled burdens on the path; for every one + carried something, even the children, who stumbled by reason + of their very importance. + </p> + <p> + The widow looked out and saw the full hands, and her heart + sank. Was she to be provided for by charity? She looked with + her keen eyes into the crowd of faces, and her heart went up + into her throat. It was not charity, but neighborliness and + good will she read there. + </p> + <p> + "I'd be wan of 'em, if somebody else was me, may the Lord + bless 'em," she said as she opened wide the door. + </p> + <p> + In they trooped, and, for a moment, everybody seemed to be + talking at once. + </p> + <center> + <img src="images/ill026.png" width="401" height="197" alt= + "[Illustration: For every one carried something.]"> + </center> + <p> + It sometimes needs a great deal of talk to make a kind deed + seem like nothing at all. Sometimes even a great deal of talk + fails to do so. It failed to-day. + </p> + <p> + Tears were running unheeded down the widow's face. Not even + her boys knew how everything was gone, and she left with no + money to buy more. And everybody tried not to see the tears + and everybody talked faster than ever. Then the first church + bell rang out, and old and young turned to go. There came a + little lull as one after another gave the widow's hand a + cordial clasp. + </p> + <p> + "My friends," said Mrs. O'Callaghan—she could be heard + now—"my dear friends, I thank you all. You have made my + heart strong the day." + </p> + <p> + "I call that a pretty good way to put in time on Sunday," + said one man to another as they were untying their teams. + </p> + <p> + "Makes going to church seem worth while, for a fact," + returned his neighbor. + </p> + <p> + Not till the last vehicle had passed from sight did the widow + look round upon what her neighbors had left her, and then she + saw sufficient pantry stores to last even seven growing boys + for a month. And among the rest of her gifts she found coal + for a week. She had not noticed her sons as she busily took + account of her stock, but when she had finished she said, + "B'ys, b'ys! 'tis your father sees the hearts of these good + people this day and rej'ices. Ah, but Tim was a ginerous man + himsilf! It's hopin' I am you'll all be loike him." + </p> + <p> + That night when the younger boys were in bed and only Pat and + Mike sat keeping her company, the widow rose from her seat, + went to a box already packed and took therefrom an account + book and pencil. + </p> + <p> + "They're your father's," she said, "but it's a good use I'll + be puttin' 'em to." + </p> + <p> + Writing was, for the hand otherwise capable, a laborious + task; but no help would she have from either of her sons. + </p> + <p> + "May I ask you not to be spakin'?" she said politely to the + two. "It's not used to writin' I am, and I must be thinkin' + besides." + </p> + <p> + Two hours she sat there, her boys glancing curiously at her + now and then at first, and later falling into a doze in their + chairs. She wrote two words and stopped. Over and over she + wrote two words and stopped. Over and over until she had + written two words and stopped fifty times. And often she + wiped away her tears. At last her task was done, and there in + the book, the letters misshapen and some of the words + misspelled, were the names of all who had come to her that + morning. Just fifty there were of them. She read them over + carefully to see that she had not forgotten any. + </p> + <p> + "Maybe I'll be havin' the chance to do 'em a good turn some + day," she said. "I will, if I can. But whether I do or not, + I've got it here in writin', that when all was gone, and I + didn't have nothin', the Lord sint fifty friends to help me + out. Let me be gettin' down in the heart and discouraged + again, and I'll take this book and read the Lord's doin's for + me. Come Pat and Moike! It's to bed you must be goin', for + we're to move to-morrow, do you moind?" + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch003"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + According to Mrs. O'Callaghan's plans, the moving was + accomplished the next day. There was but one load of + household goods, so that the two teams of their kind neighbor + made only one trip, but that load, with the seven boys and + their mother, filled the shanty by the tracks to overflowing. + The little boys immediately upon their arrival had been all + eyes for the trains, and, failing them, the freight cars. And + they had reluctantly promised never to ascend the iron + freight car ladders when they had been in their new home only + one hour. + </p> + <p> + "Whin you're dailin' with b'ys take 'em in toime," was the + widow's motto. "What's the use of lettin' 'em climb up and + fall down, and maybe break their legs or arms, and then take + their promise? Sure, and I'll take it before the harm's done, + so I will." + </p> + <p> + Such tooting the delighted little fellows had never heard. + "Barney!" whispered Tommie, in the middle of the night, with + a nudge. "Barney! there's another of 'em!" + </p> + <p> + "And listen to the bell on it," returned Barney. "Ain't you + glad we moved?" + </p> + <p> + And then they fell asleep to wake and repeat the conversation + a little later. Larry was the only one who slept the night + through. The rest were waked so many times by the + unaccustomed noise that one night seemed like twenty. + </p> + <p> + "We'll be used to it in toime," said the heavy-eyed little + widow to yawning Pat and Mike the next morning. "And the more + things you get used to in this world the better for you. I + belave it's quite something loike to be able to sleep with + engines tootin' and blowin' off steam, and bells a-ringin', + and cars a-bumpin'. Even a baby can slape where 'tis quiet, + you know." + </p> + <p> + Breakfast had been over an hour. + </p> + <p> + "Now, Pat," said his mother, "that's not the way to make + beds. Off with them covers and make 'em over again." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Callaghan was standing in the doorway and looking in + at the roomful of beds. "I don't mane it for unkindness, Pat, + but sure and the way you've got 'em made up they look jist + loike pigs' nests with covers over 'em. There, that's + better," she commented when Pat had obediently made all the + beds over again under her instructions. "You can't larn all + there is to bed-makin' in a day. 'Tis practice makes parfect, + as your copy book used to say. But I'm thinkin' you'll have + it in a week, for you're your father's son, and he was a + quick wan to larn, was Tim. And now I'll be teachin' you a + bit of cookin' while I have the chance. You must larn that as + quick as you can, Pat, for a poor cook wastes a sight, + besides settin' dishes of stuff on the table that none but + pigs can eat. And in most places the pigs would get their + messes, but here we've got no pigs, and whativer you cook + we've got to be eatin'. Andy was askin' for beans for + to-morrow a bit ago. What's your ideas about bakin' beans, + Pat? How would you do it?" + </p> + <p> + Pat thought a moment. "I'd wash 'em good, and put 'em in a + pan, and bake 'em," he said. + </p> + <p> + "Sure, then, you've left out one thing. With that receipt, + Pat, you'd need a hammer to crack 'em with after they was + baked. No, no, Pat, you pick 'em over good and put 'em a-soak + over night. In the mornin' you pick 'em over again, and wash + 'em good and bile 'em awhile, and pour off the water, and + bile 'em again in fresh water with jist enough salt in it, + and then you put 'em in the oven and bake 'em along with a + piece of pork that's been a-bilin' in another kittle all the + toime." + </p> + <p> + Pat looked a trifle astonished, but all he said was, + "<i>Baked beans</i> is a queer name for 'em, ain't it?" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Callaghan smiled. "That's the short of it, Pat, jist + the short of it. The names of things don't tell half there is + to 'em sometoimes. And now for the dinner. It's belavin' I am + you can cook it with me standin' by to help you out when you + get into trouble." + </p> + <p> + Pat tied on a clean apron, washed his hands and set to work. + </p> + <p> + "That's it! That's it!" encouraged Mrs. O'Callaghan, from + time to time, as the cooking progressed. "And I'll jist be + tellin' you, Pat, you're not so green as some girls I've + seen. I'd rather have a handy b'y as an unhandy girl any + day." + </p> + <p> + A little later she stood in the shanty door. "Come, Moike!" + she called. "Bring the little b'ys in to dinner. Pat's + a-dishin' it a'ready." + </p> + <p> + Mike had been detailed by his prudent mother as a guard to + prevent his small brothers from making too intimate + acquaintance with freight cars and engines. He was by this + time pretty hungry, and he marshaled in his squad with scant + ceremony. + </p> + <p> + A week went by and the widow was settled. Each boy was placed + in his proper class at the public school, and the mother had + her coveted four washing places. + </p> + <p> + "I didn't come to town to be foolin' my toime away, so I + didn't," said Mrs. O'Callaghan, as she sat down to rest with + a satisfied face. "Pat," she continued, "you've done foine + with the work this week. All I've to say is, 'Kape on.' It'll + kape you busy at it with school on your hands, but, sure, + them as is busy ain't in mischief, nayther." + </p> + <p> + The next week all went well with the widow and Larry as + usual, but the boys at school found rough sailing. + </p> + <p> + "Ah, but Mrs. Thompson's the jewel!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan + on Monday evening. "She do be sayin' that Larry's a cute + little fellow, and she has him in to play where she is, and + he gets to hear the canary bird sing, so he does. Didn't I be + tellin' you, Pat, that I knew there was them in this town + would help me that way? But what makes you all look so glum? + Didn't you foind the school foine the day? Niver moind! You + ain't acquainted yet. And jist remember that iverybody has a + deal to bear in this world, and the poor most of all. If + anybody does you a rale wrong, come tell me of it. But if + it's only nignaggin', say naught about it. 'Twon't last + foriver, anyway, and them that's mane enough to nignag a poor + b'y is too mane to desarve attintion, so they are." + </p> + <p> + The widow looked searchingly at her older sons. She saw them, + under the tonic of her sound counsel, straighten themselves + with renewed courage, and she smiled upon them. + </p> + <p> + "I'll niver be makin' Tim's b'ys weak-spirited by lettin' 'em + tittle-tattle of what can't be helped," she thought. + </p> + <p> + "Now, b'ys, heads up and do your bist!" she said the next + morning as she went to her work. + </p> + <p> + But it was one thing to hold up their heads at the shanty, + and quite another to hold them up on the noisy, swarming + campus where they knew nobody, and where the ill-bred bullies + of the school felt free to jeer and gibe at their poor + clothing and their shy, awkward ways. + </p> + <p> + "Patrick O'Callaghan!" yelled Jim Barrows derisively. + </p> + <p> + It was recess and the campus was overflowing with boys and + girls, but Pat was alone. "Just over from the 'ould + coonthry'," he continued. "You can tell by his clothes. He + got wet a-comin', and just see how they've shrunk!" + </p> + <p> + The overgrown, hulking fellow lounged closer to the tall and + slender Irish boy, followed by the rough set that + acknowledged him as a leader. Some measured the distance from + the ends of Pat's jacket sleeves to his wrists, while others + predicted the number of days that must elapse before his arms + burst through the sleeves. + </p> + <p> + The spirit of the country-bred boy quailed before this coarse + abuse, which he knew not how to resent. He glanced about him, + but no way of escape offered. He was hemmed in. And then the + bell struck. Recess was over. He thought of his brothers in + different grades from himself, though in the same building. + "Is there them that makes it hot for 'em when they can?" he + said anxiously to himself. "We'll have to be stayin' more + together mornin's and noons and recesses, so we will." + </p> + <p> + But staying together did not avail. Jim Barrows and his set + found more delight in tormenting several unresisting victims + than they could possibly have enjoyed with only one. + </p> + <p> + "Ah, but this nignaggin's hard to stand!" thought Pat a week + later. He was on his way to school. Pat was always last to + get off on account of his work. That morning Jim Barrows was + feeling particularly valiant. He thought of the "O'Callaghan + tribe," as he called them, and his spirits rose. He was + seventeen and large for his age. "Them low Irish needs + somebody to keep 'em to their places," he said to himself, + "and I'm the one to do it." + </p> + <p> + Just then he spied Andy a few steps ahead of him, Andy, who + was only eleven, and small and frail. Two strides of his long + legs overtook the little boy. A big, ugly hand laid itself + firmly on the shrinking little shoulder. Words of abuse + assailed the sensitive ears, and were followed by a rude + blow. Then Jim Barrows, regarding his duty done for that + time, lounged on, leaving the little fellow crying pitifully. + </p> + <p> + A few moments later, Pat came along, and, finding his + favorite brother crying, insisted upon knowing the reason. + And Andy told him. With all the abuse they had borne, not one + of the brothers had been struck before. As Pat listened his + anger grew to fury. His blue eyes flashed like steel. + </p> + <p> + "Cheer up, Andy!" he said, "and run on to school. You needn't + be afraid. I can't go with you; I've business on hand. But + you needn't be afraid." + </p> + <p> + He had just ten minutes till school would call. Who was that, + two blocks off, loitering on a corner? Was it?—it was + Jim Barrows. + </p><img src="images/ill040.png" width="250" height="383" align="left" + hspace="20" alt="[Illustration: 'Cheer up, Andy!' he said.]"> + <p> + With a dogged step that did not seem hurried, Pat yet went + rapidly forward. Straight up to the bully he walked and + looked him firmly in the eye. "You struck my brother Andy + because you thought you could," he said. And then, in the + language of those Western boys, "he lit into him." "'Tis + Andy's fist is on you now!" he cried, while he rained blows + on the hulking coward, who did not offer to defend himself. + "And there!" with a tremendous kick as Jim Barrows turned to + run, "is a taste of his foot. Touch him again if you dare!" + </p> + <p> + Needless to say, he didn't dare. "I hear your brother Andy's + been fighting," said the principal, as he stopped Pat the + next day in the street. "At least, there are marks of Andy's + fist and Andy's foot on Jim Barrows." His eyes twinkled as he + spoke and then grew grave again. "Fighting's a bad thing in + general, but you are excusable, my lad, you are excusable." + </p> + <p> + Pat looked after the principal going with a quick firm step + on his busy way, and thought him the finest man in town, for, + so far, nobody had given the poor Irish boy a word of + sympathy and encouragement. + </p> + <p> + That evening Pat ventured to tell his mother. + </p> + <p> + "And so that's what the principal said, is it?" commented + Mrs. O'Callaghan. "He's a man of sinse. Your father was a man + of great sinse, Pat. Fightin' is a bad thing, so it is. But + your father's gone, and it's you must kape the little wans + from harm in his place. You'd be but a bad brother to stand + by and see any wan strike little Andy. There's some things + has got to be put a stop to, and the sooner it's done the + better, says I." Then after a pause, "I hope you larn your + lessons, Pat?" + </p> + <p> + "I do, mother." + </p> + <p> + "I thought you would. Your father always larnt all that come + handy to him. Larnin's no load, Pat. Larn all you can." + </p> + <p> + Now Pat, with the exception of Latin, was no whit behind + other boys of his age, for he had been sent to school in the + country from the time he was five years old. The fight being + over, he gave his mind thoroughly to his books, a thing he + could not do while he did not know what to expect from Jim + Barrows and his set, and his class-standing was high. + </p> + <p> + And now the first of April was at hand. The O'Callaghans had + been a month in town and the widow was beginning to see that + she had overestimated the purchasing power of what she could + earn at four washing places. Four dollars a week needed a + supplement. How could it be supplied? Mrs. O'Callaghan cast + about in her mind. She had already discovered that Wennott + offered a poor field for employment, so far as boys were + concerned, and yet, in some way, her boys must help her. By + day, by night she thought and could hit upon nothing unless + she took her sons from school. + </p> + <p> + "And that I'll not do," she said, "for larnin' is at the root + of everything." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch004"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + Is Friday an unlucky day? You could not get Mrs. O'Callaghan + to think so, for it was upon the Friday that closed a week of + anxious thinking that Mrs. Brady called at the shanty. + Neither could you get Mrs. Brady to think so, for—but + let us begin a little farther back. Hired girls, as they were + called in Wennott, were extremely scarce. Mrs. Brady was + without one—could not get one, though she had + advertised long and patiently. Now she was tired to + exhaustion. Sitting in the old wooden rocker that had been + Mr. O'Callaghan's, Mrs. Brady rested a few moments closely + surrounded on all sides by the O'Callaghan furniture. + </p> + <p> + "'Tis a bit snug, ma'am," Mrs. O'Callaghan had said when + piloting her to this seat, "but it's my belafe my b'ys don't + moind the snugness of it so much as they would if they was + girls." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brady mechanically agreed. + </p> + <p> + The four walls of the kitchen were rather too close together + to inclose a bed, a wash-bench, two tubs, a cooking stove, a + table, seven Windsor chairs, the water pail, the cupboard, + and the rocking-chair in which Mrs. Brady sat, and leave + anything but a tortuous path for locomotion. The boys knew + the track, however, and seldom ran up against anything with + sufficient force to disturb it or their own serenity. But + there was not a speck of dust anywhere, as Mrs. Brady + noticed. + </p> + <p> + The widow's face was a little careworn and anxious as she sat + close at hand in one of the wooden chairs listening to Mrs. + Brady's explanation of her need of help. + </p> + <p> + "You have been recommended to me by Mrs. Thompson. Could you + come to me to-morrow, Mrs. O'Callaghan? It will be a day of + sweeping and general cleaning," she concluded. + </p> + <p> + The widow's countenance began to brighten. She saw her way + out of the difficulty that had been puzzling her. + </p> + <p> + "I can't come mesilf," she answered politely, "for what with + my sivin b'ys I've my own work that can't be neglected. But + my son, Pat, will do it for you. I'll come with him jist to + get him started loike, for he's niver swept a carpet, though + he swapes a bare floor ilegant." + </p> + <p> + Well, to be sure, Mrs. Brady was not overjoyed. But she saw + it was Pat or nobody, and she was very tired. So she agreed + to try him. + </p> + <p> + "And when will you have him come?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan. + There was no doubt expressed on the mother's face; no fear + lest her son might not be able to please. + </p> + <p> + "At eight," responded Mrs. Brady. "I cannot be ready for him + sooner." + </p> + <p> + "Then together we'll be there, you may depind." + </p> + <p> + And Mrs. Brady, on the whole dissatisfied, went on her way. + "If that boy—Pat, I think she called him—can do + housework satisfactorily, he's the only boy that I've heard + of here that can," she thought. + </p> + <p> + The next morning when the two presented themselves, Mrs. + Brady, after showing Mrs. O'Callaghan where to leave her + wraps, led the way at once to her bedroom. "Perhaps you will + just make my bed for me before you go, Mrs. O'Callaghan," she + insinuated. "It has been properly aired and is ready." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Pat will make it for you, ma'am," was the answer, and + again Mrs. Brady yielded. + </p> + <p> + "Now, Pat, on with your blouse." + </p> + <p> + The two women waited while Pat untied the bundle he carried + and put on a clean cotton blouse. + </p> + <p> + "'Twas his father's blouse, ma'am. A bit loose now, but he'll + grow to it. He's very loike his father." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brady looked at the tall, slender boy wearing his + father's blouse and his mother's apron, with an old straw hat + on his head for a dust protector, and then at the mother + watching his every movement with loving eyes, and only + anxious that he might give satisfaction. And all sense of + incongruity vanished from her mind. + </p> + <p> + "Now, Pat, show the lady what you can do." And Pat obeyed as + if he were five instead of fifteen. The dead father had + trained his sons from their babyhood to yield implicit + obedience to their mother. Deftly he set to work. He turned + the mattress; he smoothed and tucked in each sheet and cover + as he put it on; he beat up the pillows, and within ten + minutes the bed was perfectly made. There was no need for + Mrs. Brady to speak. She showed her surprise and delight in + her face. + </p> + <p> + "I was thinkin' Pat could suit you, ma'am," smiled the + mother. "And now, if you've more beds, maybe Pat had better + make 'em before the dust of the swapin' is on him." + </p> + <p> + "I have no more this morning," responded Mrs. Brady + courteously. + </p> + <center> + <img src="images/ill049.png" width="400" height="660" alt= + "[Illustration: Mrs. Brady looked at the tall, slender boy.]"> + </center> + <p> + "Then, Pat, there's the broom." Then she turned to Mrs. + Brady. "Now, ma'am, what's your ideas about swapin'? There's + them that says, 'Swape aisy and not be gettin' the wools off + the carpet.' But them wools don't many of 'em come off the + carpet. There's a plinty of 'em comes on bare floors that + ain't swept regular. I says, 'A vigorous swapin' and no light + brushin' except by a lady loike yoursilf as hasn't got + strength.'" + </p> + <p> + "Those are my ideas, too," said Mrs. Brady as with an air of + satisfaction she began to spread the dust covers over her + bed. + </p> + <p> + All day Pat swept and dusted and wiped paint and window + panes, and at night he went home with seventy-five cents in + his pocket. + </p> + <p> + The widow was getting supper, but she worked mechanically, + for her heart was in her ears, and they were listening for + Pat's step. The brothers, stowed here and there in chinks + between the pieces of furniture, watched with eager eyes + their mother's movements, and sniffed the savory odors that + escaped from a perfectly clean saucepan in capable hands. But + no boy lounged on the bed, nor even leaned against it, and no + one sat in the father's chair. To sit there meant special + honor at the hands of the family. + </p> + <p> + "And it's Pat will sit in the rocking-chair and rest himsilf + this avenin'," cried Mrs. O'Callaghan, returning to her + cooking from a brief trip to the door. "It's Pat'll be + bringin' home money the night; honest money that he's + earned." + </p> + <p> + The little boys appeared impressed, and on Mike's face came a + look of determination that led his mother to say, "All in + good toime, Moike. You're as willin' as Pat any day. I know + that. And the way you look after the little b'ys, your father + himsilf couldn't do better." + </p> + <p> + And then Pat came stepping in. + </p> + <p> + "Did she praise you, Pat?" cried the little woman as she + dished up the supper. She was hungry for appreciation of her + boy. + </p> + <p> + "She did that. She said, 'Patrick, you're elegant help, and + will you come again next Saturday?" + </p> + <p> + "And what did you tell her?" + </p> + <p> + "I told her I would, and let that Jim Barrows keep a civil + tongue in his head when he hears of it, or I'll be teaching + him another lesson. He'll not be throwin' it up to me that + it's girl's work I'm doin' if he knows what's best for him." + </p> + <p> + "Listen to me, Pat," said his mother, soberly. "I'll be + tellin' you now my plans for you so you'll not be runnin' + agin 'em. It's to be a gintleman you are, and gintlemen don't + fight jist because some Jim Barrows of a fellow says tauntin' + words to 'em. You had to kape him off Andy, but moindin' his + impudence to yoursilf is another thing." + </p> + <p> + For the first time in his life Pat looked unconvinced of his + mother's wisdom, and she went on soothingly, "But sure and I + don't belave he'll be sayin' a word to you, Pat. And anyway + you know how many of the blissid saints and angels was women + on the earth, and how it was their work to kape things clane + and pleasant for them they loved. And that ain't a work to be + ashamed of by girl or b'y." + </p> + <p> + The little boys busily eating had seemed not to notice. Only + Mike had looked on with interest. But into all their hearts + had sunk the lesson that gentlemen did not fight. + </p> + <p> + "Are we all to be gintlemen?" asked Barney looking up when + his plate was quite empty. + </p> + <p> + "Ivery wan of you. What should your father's b'ys be but + gintlemen and him the best man as iver lived?" + </p> + <p> + It was not to be expected that in any place service such as + Pat's would be willingly done without, least of all in + Wennott. The more Mrs. Brady thought of it, the smaller and + more unsatisfactory did Saturday appear, and on Friday + morning she went again to the shanty. + </p> + <p> + "And I hope you're not come to say you've changed your moind + about wantin' Pat to-morrow," said Mrs. O'Callaghan when + civil greetings had been exchanged and Mrs. Brady sat once + more in the rocker. + </p> + <p> + "In one sense I have changed my mind," answered Mrs. Brady + with a smile. "I want Pat to-morrow, but I want him all the + other days of the week, too." + </p> + <p> + The widow was silent. She had not planned so far as this. + What would Pat say? Would he do it? + </p> + <p> + "I will give him his board and lodging and a dollar a week to + help me Saturday and Sunday, and before and after school the + other days of the week. Saturday he would have to work all + day, of course, but Sunday he would have almost nothing to + do," said Mrs. Brady. "The washing and ironing I put out," + she added as Mrs. O'Callaghan still hesitated. + </p> + <p> + "You're very koind, ma'am," responded the widow after a + pause. "I hope Pat'll go to you. I'll ask him." + </p> + <p> + "What makes you think he might not like to come?" inquired + Mrs. Brady, anxious in her turn. + </p> + <p> + "Well, you see, ma'am, 'tis girl's work entoirely you want + him to do. And Pat's been put on and made fun of almost more + than he can bear since we moved to Wennott. Sure and them + b'ys—I'd call 'em imps, only they're big for imps, + bein' bigger and stouter than Pat himsilf—they sets on + him and foretells when his arms is goin' to burst through his + sleeves and such as that, loike an almanac, ma'am. And him + a-loikin' nice clothes as well as any one, only he can't get + 'em because it's poor we are, ma'am. Not that there's + anything wrong about that. 'Tis the Lord's will that it's so, + and we're doin' our best with it. But Pat's young. He didn't + mean to tell me of it, but his moind bein' full of it, it + slipped out. + </p> + <p> + "Pat, he done as I told him, and come to you a-Saturday, and + he'd kape on comin' Saturdays, but I can't tell him he must + go out to service loike a girl, when I know what thim b'ys + will have in store for him. I must jist ask him, do you see? + And what he'll say, I can't tell. He's mighty brave. Maybe + he'll come. I've been tellin' him he's not to be lickin' that + Jim Barrows if he is impudent to him." + </p> + <p> + "Does Pat fight?" asked Mrs. Brady doubtfully. "He seemed so + amiable." + </p> + <p> + "And pleasant he is," cried the widow earnestly. "'Twas not + for himsilf he fought, do you understand. 'Twas because Jim + Barrows hurt Andy's feelin's and struck him besides. Andy's + my third son, ma'am. He's only eleven, and not strong ayther. + And Pat, he loves him better, I belave, than he does all the + rest of the b'ys put together." + </p> + <p> + "Oh!" said Mrs. Brady with a relieved air. + </p> + <p> + "But havin' got a taste of makin' Jim Barrows kape off Andy + has sort of got him in the notion of not takin' nothin' off + him, do you see? But it's his father has a good influence + over him yet. Tim's in his grave, ma'am, but it's meanin' I + am he shall still rule his b'ys. And he does, too." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch005"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + There was a certain part of Wennott which its own residents + were wont to think was <i>the</i> part of town in which to + live. Sometimes in confidence they even congratulated + themselves over their own good fortune and commiserated the + rest of the town who lived upon the flat lands. + </p> + <p> + The rest of the town were not discontented in the least. They + thought northeast Wennott was a little far out, themselves. + And it was a good three-quarters of a mile from the public + square. But the knolls were not to be had any nearer, and + those who owned them felt repaid for the walk it took to + reach them. The places were larger, the air was fresher and + sweeter, and there was only one knoll to rent among them all. + Beyond the knolls were the northeast suburbs, built upon as + flat land as any the town afforded, and farther on stretched + rolling prairie, picturesquely beautiful. It was upon one of + the knolls that Mrs. Brady lived, in a square house of an + old-fashioned build, having a hall running through the center + with rooms on each side. It fronted the west. To the left, as + one entered, was the dining-room; to the right, the parlor, + whose always open folding doors made the pleasant + sitting-room a part of itself. There was a bay window in the + east end of the sitting-room, and one's first glance in at + the parlor door from the hall always traveled past everything + else to rest on the mass of green and blossoms in the bay + window. For Mrs. Brady was an expert at floriculture. Here + and there on the lawn, not crowded, but just where it seemed + natural to find them, were rosebushes of different varieties + that waited patiently all winter for the appreciation of + their beauty which summer was sure to bring, and among them + were some of the kinds Mrs. Brady had loved in the Eastern + home of her girlhood. + </p> + <p> + One stepped out from the south door of the sitting-room to + find narrow beds for all sorts of summer blooms hugging the + house, and looked about to see farther on occasional other + beds. Everything was represented in her flower garden, from + sweet alyssum and mignonette to roses and lilies, just as a + little of all sweet qualities mingled themselves in her + disposition. She was no longer young, and she had come to be + quite frail. + </p> + <p> + "I hope he will come," she said as she let herself in at the + front door. + </p> + <p> + From the shanty she had come the back way, a part of which + followed the railroad track, and the walk had not been very + long, but wearily she sank down to rest. + </p> + <p> + "He's such a handy boy," she thought. "If he shouldn't come!" + </p> + <p> + And down at the shanty Mrs. O'Callaghan, as she washed + vigorously for her boys, was thinking, too. + </p> + <p> + "It's wishin' I am 'twas avenin'," she cried at last, "and + then 'twould be off my moind, so 'twould. I can't tell no + more than nothin' what Pat'll be sayin'. And what's worse, I + can't tell what I want him to be sayin'. 'Tis the best I want + him to be doin', but what's the best? If he don't go, there's + a chance gone of earnin' what we need. And if he does go, + I'll be at my wits' ends to kape him from settlin' that Jim + Barrows. It's widows as has their trials when they've sivin + b'ys on their hands, and all of 'em foine wans at that." + </p> + <p> + It was a very uncertain day. Cloud followed sunshine, and a + sprinkle of rain the cloud, over and over again. + </p> + <p> + "Sure an' the weather an' me's as loike as two peas the day. + We're nayther of us to be depinded on, so we ain't, not + knowin' what we want. Look at my clothes not dryin' an' me + a-frettin'. What's the use of it all? Let Pat do as he will, + I'll think no more of it." + </p> + <p> + The little woman was capable. She could work; she could + control her boys, though sometimes, when it seemed best, she + could give control of them into their own hands, and she + could govern her thoughts with some measure of success. So, + casting her worries behind her, she went about brightly and + cheerily as if nothing of an anxious nature lay before her, + amusing Larry with chatter suited to his years, and making + him contented to stay indoors while she toiled. For Mrs. + O'Callaghan was as young as her youngest child, and as old as + her oldest. It was easy for the boys to get close to mother. + Only once did her mind revert to the forbidden theme. Dinner + was over and she stood watching Pat, who was fast + disappearing on his way to school. + </p> + <p> + "There's toimes to be spakin', and toimes to be kapin' + still," she said. "Niver a word must I be sayin' till the + rest of 'em's abed, and it's hard waitin', so it is. It's my + belafe that's what makes some b'ys so unruly—takin' 'em + at the wrong toime. Sure and b'ys has their feelin's loike + the rest of the world. Spake to 'em by their lone silves when + you've aught to say to 'em. There's niver a man of 'em all, + not even Gineral Brady himsilf, would loike bein' bawled at + in a crowd about somethin' that needed thinkin' over. And + Gineral Brady's the foine man, too. Big and straight he + walks, a-wearin' his plug hat, and old and young is plazed to + meet him. Well, his business is done. There's no more + foightin'. But he was a brave foighter! My Tim saw him at it + more'n wanst. Tim was a long way behind the Gineral, but Tim, + he done his duty, too. Sure some has to be behoind, and if + that's your place, 'Make that place respicted,' says I." + </p> + <p> + She turned from the door and went back to her work. + </p> + <p> + "There's some as thinks the Gineral has a business," she went + on. "There's them that calls him a banker. But what sort of a + business is that now? Jist none at all. All he does is to + take in the money, and put it in a safe place where nobody + won't steal it, and hand it out again when it's needed, and + lend a little now and then to somebody that wants it and is + loikely to be payin' it back again. Anybody could do that. + There's no work to it. And, by the same token, it's no + business. When the war was over, the Gineral's business was + done, I say, and it's hopin' I am it'll soon be evenin', for + I'm wantin' to hear what Pat'll say." + </p> + <p> + It was, in the main, a quiet supper at the shanty, and, for + the most part, a silent evening. One by one the boys went to + bed, and Pat and his mother were left alone. + </p> + <p> + "Pat," began Mrs. O'Callaghan, in a tremble of eagerness and + apprehension, "who do you think was here the mornin'?" + </p> + <p> + "Sure and I couldn't guess, mother dear. You'll have to be + tellin' me." + </p> + <p> + "And so I will," was the prompt reply. "'Twas Mrs. Gineral + Brady, then. And she loikes your work that well, Pat, she + wants you to go to her house to live." + </p> + <p> + At first the boy looked bewildered. Then a light of + understanding flashed over his face, and he blushed as if + with shame. To go out to service like a girl! He couldn't do + it, and he wouldn't. But even in his fierce young indignation + he restrained himself. He had suffered so much of late that + he was growing very careful about inflicting suffering upon + others, especially upon his mother. He covered his eyes with + his hand and sat quite still for a few moments before he + inquired, "What did you tell her?" + </p> + <p> + "I told her I'd ask you, Pat. Only that." The boy wheeled + round in the old Windsor chair in which he sat, threw his + arms over the top of its back and buried his face. They had + been in town now six weeks. Pat had learned by his experience + in cooking how fast supplies went in a large family. Two + weeks before, the generous contributions of their country + neighbors had given entirely out, and Pat, as marketer, had + learned how much money it took to buy with. Four dollars a + week would not, could not, support the family even in summer + time. Hard knowledge was this for a boy of fifteen to have, + and hardly had it been learned. If he went, there was Jim + Barrows and his set with more jeers and insults which he must + not avenge. If he did not go—all at once he remembered + that ride home from Wennott with his mother, when he had + asked her what he could do and what Mike could do to help. + Was this the answer? Was he to live out like a girl, and Mike + to take his place with the work at home? + </p> + <p> + He lifted his face, and his blue eyes had a pleading look + that went to the widow's heart. "Mother, tell me what I must + do," he said. + </p> + <p> + "I can't, Pat dear. You must say for yoursilf." + </p> + <p> + There was loving sympathy in look and tone, but the little + woman's determination was clear. Pat must decide for himself. + And the young head went down again. + </p> + <p> + Ten long minutes went by before Pat spoke again, and his + voice had a muffled sound, for his face was not lifted. + "Mother, are you willin'?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "I am, Pat, my son." + </p> + <p> + Heavier the dreadful prospect pressed upon him. He could + trust his mother, and she was willing. Then it must be right. + </p> + <p> + More minutes went by. Pat had a telltale voice. Clear and + musical, it had ever revealed to the mother the heart of her + son. And its sadness and submission smote upon her as he said + at last, "You may tell her I'll go, mother." + </p> + <p> + "I always knowed you was brave, Pat," said Mrs. O'Callaghan. + Then a rough little hand was laid on his head—the hand + of an honest washerwoman—and in a reverent tone came + the words, "Your father was brave." + </p> + <p> + The boy looked up gratefully. To be likened to his father was + dear to him. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Pat," went on Mrs. O'Callaghan. "'Most anybody can take + a noice payin' job as suits 'em, but it's the brave wans that + takes the work they don't want to do and does it good, too." + </p> + <p> + And then the mother who had the courage to battle cheerfully + for her children, and the son who had the courage to do what + seemed best in the face of contempt and ridicule, went to + their rest. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch006"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + The next morning Pat stepped out into the kitchen and donned + his apron in a downcast mood. The uplift of his mother's + praise had passed, and the fact remained that to-day he was + to go out to service like a girl. The little boys were up and + stowed here and there waiting for breakfast. Some little boys + cannot be kept in bed mornings as long as their elders could + wish, and the widow's little boys were of that kind. + </p> + <p> + "Get up, if you want to," was Mrs. O'Callaghan's counsel to + her youngest sons, "but see to it you don't get under Pat's + feet. Nayther must you be runnin' out doors, for Moike to be + haulin' you in when breakfast's ready." + </p> + <p> + These orders shut the little fellows into a narrow space, and + they were always eager for the morning meal to be over. Andy + and Jim were not in such a hurry to rise, having reached the + age when boys need a deal of persuasion to get them up. + </p> + <p> + "They'll be along in a minute," thought the widow. "Here + comes Moike." + </p><img src="images/ill069.png" width="200" height="351" align= + "right" hspace="20" alt= + "[Illustration: Pat donned his apron.]"> + <p> + Along they were in a minute, as their mother had predicted. + The little woman was fond of effect. "There's toimes when + it's the thing to spake before 'em all," she thought. "This + is wan of 'em. Pat needs heartenin' a bit." + </p> + <p> + Then with an air of authority she said: "Pat, off with your + apron!" + </p> + <p> + The rest were eyes and ears at once as their mother meant + they should be, but Pat only stared in surprise. Some way he + felt stupid this morning. + </p> + <p> + "Off with your apron," repeated Mrs. O'Callaghan, "and sit + you down in the father's chair. I get the breakfast this + mornin'." + </p> + <p> + With a shamefaced blush Pat obeyed, amid the wondering looks + of his brothers. + </p> + <p> + "You'll be sayin' farewell to Pat this mornin'," went on the + widow, her glance traveling from one to another. "It's lavin' + us he is to go to Gineral Brady's to live. 'Tis hard toimes + we've been havin' and harder's before us. Pat seen it and + he's a-goin' to help. He'll be gettin' his board and he'll + still be goin' to school." + </p> + <p> + At this Pat started. + </p> + <p> + "Did you think I'd be willin' for you to lave school, my + son?" asked the mother tenderly. + </p> + <p> + Then turning to the rest once more, "And it's a dollar a week + he'll be gettin' besides. He's his father's son, and he's got + a head older than his years, or he'd niver 'a' been the brave + b'y he is, nor seen nothin' to be brave about, nayther. And + he'll be comin' to visit us when Mrs. Brady can spare him, + and that'll be when his work's done, of course; and always he + sits in his father's chair." + </p> + <p> + Redder and redder flushed Pat's cheeks, seeing which the + widow adroitly drew the general attention to her second son. + </p> + <p> + "And here's the chance for Moike," she said, going busily on + with her work. "Will you be makin' the beds and kapin' things + shinin' and doin' the cookin' for us all?" + </p> + <p> + "You know I will, mother." + </p> + <p> + The little woman smiled. "Sure and I knowed you would. I jist + asked you. + </p> + <p> + "Now, b'ys, there's what they call permotions. Often and + often have I heard your father spake of 'em. We're havin' + some of 'em this mornin'. Pat, he goes to earnin' money and + his board. That gives Moike a chance to step up into his + place, do you see? That's what permotions is for, I'm + thinkin'—to give the wans behoind you a chance. Always + step up when you honestly can, b'ys, if for no other reason, + to give the wan behoind you a chance. There's no tellin' what + he can do till he gets a chance, do you see? Tim, he wouldn't + 'a' stayed foightin' a private if the wan ahead of him had + only done his duty and stepped up. But some folks niver does + their duty, and it's hopin' I am you'll none of you be loike + 'em. It's a noice place Pat's goin' to, so 'tis. There's a + queer little house with a glass roof on jist across the + street from it, and, by the same token, it's a wonder how + they can kape a glass roof on it. There's them that can't + even kape their window glass in, so there is, but goes + a-stuffin' up the holes with what they can get. It's full of + plants, so 'tis, a sort of a garden house where they sells + flowers for weddin's and funerals and such, and maybe Pat'll + be showin' you through it some day when he gets acquainted. + I'm told anybody can see it. Grane house, I belave they calls + it, but why anybody should call a garden house a grane house + I can't tell, for sure and it's not a bit of a grane idea to + sell flowers if you can find them that has the money to buy + 'em." + </p> + <p> + At this, quiet little Andy, who was fond of his book, glanced + up. "Maybe they call it greenhouse because it's full of green + things," he said. + </p> + <p> + The widow nodded two or three times in a convinced manner. + "To be sure. That's the reason," she said. "And it's proud I + am to have for my third son a b'y that can give the reasons + of things. And there's another permotion we was forgettin'. + Andy'll take Moike's place, so he will, and look after the + little b'ys. A b'y that can give reasons can look after 'em + wonderful, so he can, if he don't get so full of his reasons + that he forgets the little b'ys entoirely. But Andy'll not be + doin' that. I niver told you before, but your father's + favorite brother was named Andy, and a great wan he was for + reasons, as I've heard. + </p> + <p> + "Now breakfast's ready, so 'tis. I took my toime to it, for + permotions always takes toime. There's them that wants + permotion in such a hurry that they all but knocks over the + wans in front of 'em. And that's bad, so 'tis. And no way at + all, nayther. Jist kape yoursilf ready to step, and when the + toime comes step aisy loike a gintleman, and then folks + rej'ices with you, instead of feelin' of their bumps and + wonderin' at your impudence. And the worst of them koind of + tryin's after permotions is that it hurts them behoind you, + for they're jist a-breathin' aisy, do you see, when back you + come a-tumblin' a-top of 'em, and lucky you are if you don't + go past 'em, and land nobody knows where." + </p> + <p> + Seldom were the little boys so deluged with wisdom beyond + their power of comprehension, but this was a special + occasion, and as the general effect of the widow's remarks + was to stir up in all a determination to do their best just + where they were, her aim had been accomplished. Pat, in + particular, was encouraged. Perhaps he was in line of + promotion. He hoped it might come soon. + </p> + <p> + "Now, Moike," cried Mrs. O'Callaghan when Pat was gone, + "here's a chance for you. It's lucky I am to be at home the + day. I'll be teachin' you a bit of all sorts, so I will, for + you've everything to larn, Moike, and that's the truth, + barrin' the lay of the tracks, and the switches, and the + empty cars a-standin' about, and how to kape the little b'ys + from hurtin' thimsilves." + </p> + <p> + Mike looked rather disheartened. + </p> + <p> + "You niver let 'em get hurted wanst, did you, Moike? And + that's doin' well, too. I hope Andy'll be comin' up to you in + that." + </p> + <p> + So encouragingly did his mother smile upon him as she said + these last words that he visibly brightened. He was not tall + and slender like Pat, but rather short and of a sturdy build. + And he tied on his apron with determination in his eye. + </p> + <p> + "Do you know what you look loike, Moike?" + </p> + <p> + The boy glanced at her inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + "You look loike you was goin' to make short work of your + larnin' and come up to Pat before you know it. I niver knowed + a b'y to get the worst of it that looked that way out of his + eye. It's a sort of 'do it I will, and let them stop me that + can' look, Moike dear. Not that anybody wants to stop you, + and it's an ilegant look, too, as I've often seen on your + father's face when he had a hard job ahead of him." + </p> + <p> + By this time Mike was ready for anything. He really knew more + than his mother gave him credit for, having furtively watched + Pat more than once. + </p> + <p> + "Well, well, Moike!" exclaimed Mrs. O'Callaghan when the last + bed was made. "That's a sight better as Pat's first try at + bed-makin'. If he was here he'd say that wasn't so bad + nayther, and it's yoursilf as knows Pat's an ilegant + bed-maker. If you'd seen him astonishin' Mrs. Gineral Brady + you'd 'a' seen a sight now. I was proud that day." + </p> + <p> + Mike smiled with satisfaction and reached for the broom. His + mother said nothing, but not a move escaped her critical eye. + As far as the beds could be moved, they were moved, and + around them and under them went Mike's busy broom. Mike was + warm-blooded, and it was a pretty red-faced boy that stood at + last before his mother with the dustpan in his hand. There + was strong approval on the little woman's face. + </p> + <p> + "Pat himsilf couldn't 'a' beat that. It's my belafe you've + got a gift for swapin'," she said. "I can leave home to go to + my washin' with an aisy mind, I see, and with no fears of + chance callers foindin' dirty floors and mussy-lookin' beds + a-disgracin' me. If widows is iver lucky, which I doubt, + Moike, I'm lucky this far. I've got some wonderful foine + sons, so I have." + </p> + <p> + Mike, at this, beamed with the consciousness that he was one + of the sons and a fully appreciated one, too. A long time he + had stood in the shadow of Pat's achievements. This morning + he was showing what he could do. + </p> + <p> + "This permotion is pretty foine," said Mrs. O'Callaghan. + "Moike, my b'y, you have stepped up aisy loike a gintleman + into Pat's place, and now let's see you cook." + </p> + <p> + Mike looked crestfallen at once. "I can't cook, mother," he + said. "Not the least in the world. Often and often I've + watched Pat, but I never could get the hang of it." + </p> + <p> + The widow was silent a moment, + </p> + <p> + "Well, then!" she cried, "you've got the hang of bein' an + honest b'y, and not pretindin' to do what you can't do, and + that's better as bein' the best cook in the world. Niver do + you pretind, Moike, not because there's always somebody about + to foind you out, but because pretindin's mean. I'd have no + pride left in me if I could think I had a pretindin' b'y + about the house. And now, Moike, I'll teach you to cook. It's + my belafe you can larn it. Why, Pat didn't know nothin' about + it when he begun, and now he can cook meat and potatoes and + such better as many a doless girl I've seen. You think Pat's + cookin' tastes pretty good, don't you, Moike?" + </p> + <p> + "I do, mother," said Mike earnestly and without a tinge of + jealousy in his tone. He loved and admired Pat with all his + heart. + </p> + <p> + "You can larn it, too, if you only think so," encouraged Mrs. + O'Callaghan. + </p> + <p> + "There's them that think's that cookin's a special gift, and + they're right, too. But there's things about cookin' that + anybody can attind to, such as havin' kettles and pans clean, + and kapin' the fire up when it's needed, and not roastin' a + body's brains out when it ain't needed. Yes, and there's + other things," she continued with increasing earnestness. + "There's them as thinks if they've a book or paper stuck + about handy, and them a-poppin' down to read a bit ivery now + and then, it shows that cookin's beneath 'em. And then the + meat burns or it sogs and gets tough, the potatoes don't get + the water poured off of 'em in toime, and things biles over + on the stove or don't bile at all, at all, and what does all + that show, Moike? Not that they're above cookin', but that + they're lackin' in sinse. For a sinsible person always pays + attintion to what they're at, but a silly is lookin' all ways + but the right wan, and ten to wan but if you looked inside + their skulls you'd foind 'em that empty it would astonish + you. Not that I'm down on readin', but that readin' and + cookin' hadn't ought to be mixed. Now, Moike, if any of these + things I've been tellin' you of happens to your cookin', + you'll know where to put the blame. Don't say, 'I wasn't made + to cook, I guess'. That's what I wanst heard a silly say when + she'd burnt the dinner. But jist understand that your wits + must have been off a piece, and kape 'em by you nixt toime. + But what's that n'ise?" + </p> + <p> + She stepped to the door. A short distance off Jim was trying + to get something away from Barney, who was making up in roars + what he lacked in strength. Up went Mrs. O'Callaghan's hands + to curve around her mouth and form a speaking trumpet. + </p> + <p> + "Jim, come here!" she called. + </p> + <p> + Jim began to obey, and his mother, leaving Mike inside to + think over her remarks on cooking, stood waiting for his + lagging feet. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Jim," she said when he stood before her, "it's ashamed + of you I am, and that's the truth. A big b'y loike you, noine + years old, a-snatchin' something from little Barney and him + only sivin! It's my belafe your father niver snatched nothin' + from nobody." + </p> + <p> + At this Jim's countenance fell, for, in common with all his + brothers, he shared a strong desire to be like his father. + </p> + <p> + "You may go now, but remember you'll be takin' Andy's place + some day, a-carin' for the little wans." + </p> + <p> + The idea of taking Andy's place, even at so indefinite a + period as sometime, quite took the edge off his mother's + rebuke, and Jim went stepping off with great importance. + </p> + <p> + "Jim!" she called again, and the boy came back. + </p> + <p> + "That's a terrible swagger you've got on you, Jim. Walk + natural. Your father was niver wan of the swaggerin' sort. + And jist remember that takin' care of the little b'ys ain't + lordin' it over 'em nayther." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch007"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + "If I'm goin', I may as well go," thought Pat as he left his + mother's door on that mid-April Saturday morning. And away he + went on the railroad track at a rapid pace that did not give + him much time to think. + </p> + <p> + It was the General himself who answered his knock that had a + strange mixture of the bold and the timid. The General had + been listening for that knock. He had been wondering what + sort of a boy it was who was willing to go out by the day to + do housework. The knock, told him. "He hates to come, but he + comes, nevertheless," thought the General. And he arose and + opened the door. + </p> + <p> + He looked into the boy's face and he saw a determined mouth + and pleading eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Grit," thought the General. But he only said, "Come in, my + boy." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir, if you please, sir, will you be tellin' Mrs. + General Brady that I'm here, sir?" was Pat's answer as, with + flushing cheeks, he stepped awkwardly into the room. What a + fine soldierly bearing the General had, and how he must + despise a boy who could turn himself into a girl! + </p> + <p> + "Sit down, Pat," said the General pleasantly. "That's your + name, isn't it? I'll tell Mrs. Brady presently." + </p> + <p> + Pat sat down. He could not imagine the General with an apron + on doing housework, though that was what he was trying to do + while he sat there with cheeks that grew redder and more red. + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Brady tells me you are excellent help, Pat," went on + the General. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir," stammered Pat. + </p> + <p> + "Have you come to stay, or just for the day?" + </p> + <p> + The boy's eyes were almost beseeching as he answered, "I've + come to stay, sir." What would the General think of him now? + </p> + <p> + "I suppose you like housework, then?" + </p> + <p> + "No, sir," came the answer in a low tone. "But father's gone, + and there's mother and the boys and there's no work for boys + in Wennott unless they turn themselves into girls." + </p> + <p> + "Better turn into a girl than into a tough from loafing on + the streets, Pat," said the General heartily, as he rose from + his chair. "I'll tell Mrs. Brady you are here." + </p> + <p> + There was not so much in what the genial master of the house + had said, but Pat's head lifted a little. Perhaps the General + did not despise him after all. + </p> + <p> + "I've good news for you, Fannie," said the General as he + entered the dining-room. "Your boy has come, and come to + stay." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, has he? I'm so glad." And she smiled her pleasure. "He's + such a nice boy." + </p> + <p> + "He's a brave boy," said her husband with emphasis. "That boy + has the grit of a hero. He may come into our kitchen for a + time, but, please God, he shan't stay there. I know what he + will have to take from those street boys for doing the best + he can for his mother and younger brothers and he knows it, + too. I saw it in his face just now. The boy that has the + moral courage to face insult and abuse deserves to rise, and + he shall rise. But, bless me! I'm getting rather excited over + it, I see." And he smiled. + </p> + <center> + <img src="images/ill086.png" width="450" height="331" alt= + "[Illustration: 'I've good news for you, Fannie,' said the General.]"> + </center> + <p> + "Perhaps, Tom, you could shield him a little in the street," + suggested Mrs. Brady. + </p> + <p> + "I'll do my best, my dear." And then the General went away to + his bank, and Mrs. Brady went into the kitchen to see Pat. + </p> + <p> + Pat was sensitive. There was something in the General's + manner as he left him, something in Mrs. Brady's tones as she + directed him, that restored his self-respect. + </p> + <p> + "If only I never had to be goin' on the street till after + dark, 'twouldn't be so bad," thought Pat. "But there's + school, and there's Jim Barrows. I'll just have to stand it, + that's what I will. Mother says I'm brave, but it's not very + brave inside I'm feelin'. I'd run if I could." + </p> + <p> + But Pat was to learn some day, and learn it from the + General's lips, that the very bravest men have been men who + wanted to run and <i>wouldn't</i>. + </p> + <p> + At General Brady's there was light lunch at noon and dinner + at five, which was something Pat had already become + accustomed to from having to do his own family cooking for + the last six weeks. He was pretty well used to hurrying home + the moment the afternoon session of school was over to + prepare the meal of the day for his hungry brothers and his + tired mother. On Monday, therefore, he came flying into the + Brady kitchen at fifteen minutes of five. There was the + dinner cooking, with no one to watch it. Where was Mrs. + Brady? Pat did not stop to inquire. His own experience told + him that that dinner needed immediate attention. + </p> + <p> + Down went his books. He flew to wash his hands and put on his + apron. He turned the water off the potatoes in a jiffy. "Sure + and I just saved 'em, and that's all!" he cried, as he put + them to steam dry. + </p> + <p> + "I'll peep in the oven, so I will," he said. "That roast + needs bastin', so it does." + </p> + <p> + He heard the General come in. + </p> + <p> + "There's a puddin' in the warm oven," he continued, "but I + don't know nothin' about that. It's long since we've had + puddin' at home. I'll just dress the potatoes and whip 'em up + light. I can do that anyway, and give the roast another + baste. It's done, and I'll be settin' it in the warm oven + along with the puddin'. For how do I know how Mrs. Brady + wants her gravy? Where is she, I wonder?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, Pat," said a surprised voice, "can you cook?" + </p> + <p> + "Not much, ma'am," answered Pat with a blush. "But I can + sometimes keep other people's cookin' from spoilin'." + </p> + <p> + "Well said!" cried the General, who was determined to make + Pat feel at ease. "Fannie, give me an apron, and I'll make + the gravy. I used to be a famous hand at it in the army." + </p> + <p> + Pat stared, and then such a happy look came into his eyes + that the General felt a little moisture in his own. + </p> + <p> + "How that boy has been suffering!" he said to himself. + </p> + <p> + "I was detained by a caller," explained Mrs. Brady. "The + dinner would surely have been spoiled if Pat had not come + just when he did." + </p> + <p> + And then Pat's cup was full. He blushed, he beamed. Here was + the General, the man whom his mother had held up to Pat's + admiration, with an apron on, cooking! And Mrs. Brady said + that he had saved the dinner. + </p> + <p> + "Let Jim Barrows say what he likes," he thought. "I'd not + like to be eatin' any of his cookin'." + </p> + <p> + Cooking had risen in Pat's estimation. + </p> + <p> + "She asked me, 'Will you please not be nickin' or crackin' + the dishes, Pat?' And says I, 'I'll be careful, Mrs. Brady.' + But I wonder what makes 'em have these thin sort of dishes. I + never seen none like 'em nowhere else." + </p> + <p> + Dinner was over and Pat was alone in the kitchen. + </p> + <center> + <img src="images/ill091.png" width="400" height="670" alt= + "[Illustration: The General makes the gravy.]"> + </center> + <p> + "But the General makin' the gravy was fine, and sure I never + tasted no better gravy neither. I wish I could just be + lettin' 'em know at home. Mike will have to be turnin' into a + girl, too, one of these days, and it might ease him a bit if + he could know the General wasn't above cookin'. My mother + said I'd be comin' to visit 'em when my work was done, if + Mrs. Brady could spare me." + </p> + <p> + A half-hour later a trim-looking boy presented himself at the + sitting-room door. + </p> + <p> + "Come in, Pat," invited the General, looking up from his + paper with a smile. + </p> + <p> + Pat smiled back again, but it was to Mrs. Brady that he + turned as he entered the room. + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Brady, ma'am," he said, "the dishes are done and the + kitchen made neat. Will you have me to be doin' something + more for you this evenin'?" + </p> + <p> + "No, Pat," replied Mrs. Brady kindly. "Your work, for to-day, + is done. You may take off your apron." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, ma'am. Would you kindly be lettin' me go home a little + while then?" + </p> + <p> + Pat's look was eager but submissive. + </p> + <p> + "Certainly, Pat," was the reply. "Take the kitchen key with + you." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, kindly, ma'am," returned Pat gratefully. And with + another smile for the General, who had not resumed his + reading, the boy left the room, and, shortly after, the + house. + </p> + <p> + "Listen!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan, with uplifted ringer. And + the rollicking talk about her ceased on the instant. + </p> + <p> + "'Tis Pat's step I hear outside, and here he is, sure enough. + Now, b'ys, don't all of you be on him at wanst. Let him sit + down in the father's chair." + </p> + <p> + Pat, feeling the honor paid him, and showing that he felt it, + sat down. The little boys crowded around him with their news. + Jim and Andy got as near to him as they could for furniture, + while Mike looked at him from the farther side of the tiny + room with a heart full of love and admiration in his eyes. + They had not seen Pat since Saturday morning except at school + that day, and that was not like having him at home with them. + </p> + <p> + "And how does your work come on?" asked his mother as soon as + she could get in a word. + </p> + <p> + "Fine," said Pat. "'Tis an elegant place." Then, with an air + that tried hard to be natural, he added, "The General himself + made the gravy to-day." + </p> + <p> + "What!" exclaimed his mother. "The Gineral!" + </p> + <p> + "He did," said Pat. "He put on one of Mrs. Brady's aprons, + and 'twas fine gravy, too." + </p> + <p> + The widow looked her astonishment. "And do you call that + foine?" she demanded at last. "The Gineral havin' to make his + own gravy? What was you a-doin', Pat?" + </p> + <p> + "I was helpin' Mrs. Brady with the puddin' sauce and dishin' + up. 'Twas behind we all was, owin' to a caller, and Mrs. + Brady said if it hadn't been for me the dinner would have + been spoiled sure. I got there just in time." + </p> + <p> + "The Gineral," said Mrs. O'Callaghan, looking about her + impressively, "is the handsomest and the foinest gintleman in + the town. Iverybody says so. And the Gineral ain't above + puttin' an apron on him and makin' gravy. Let that be a + lesson to you all. The war's over. You'll none of you iver be + ginerals. But you can all make gravy, so you can." + </p> + <p> + "When, mother, when?" asked Barney and Tommie eagerly, who + saw at once that gravy would be a great improvement on mud + pies, their only culinary accomplishment at present. + </p> + <p> + "When?" repeated the widow. "All in good toime, to be sure. + Pat will be givin' Moike the Gineral's receipt, and the b'y + that steps into Moike's place—and that'll be Andy, I'm + thinkin'—he'll larn it of Moike, and so on, do you + see?" + </p> + <p> + "And I was just thinkin'," put in Pat, with an encouraging + glance at Mike, "that Jim Barrows's cookin' was like to be + poor eatin'." + </p> + <p> + "True for you, my b'y!" exclaimed the widow. "The idea of + that Jim Barrows a-cookin' niver struck me before. But, as + you say, no doubt 'twould be poor. Them that's not above + nignaggin' the unfortunate is apt to be thinkin' themsilves + above cookin', and if they tried it wanst, no doubt their + gravy would be a mixture of hot water and scorch, with, like + enough, too little salt in it if it didn't have too much, and + full of lumps besides. 'Tis your brave foightin' men and + iligant gintlemen loike the Gineral that makes the good + gravy." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch008"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + "Pat, I forgot to give Mr. Brady the list of things that I + want sent up this morning." + </p> + <p> + Pat looked up from his dishwashing sympathetically, for there + was perplexity in the kindly tone and on the face no longer + young. + </p> + <p> + It was always a mystery to the boy why Mrs. Brady called her + husband "Mr. Brady" when everybody else said General Brady. + </p> + <p> + "But it's none of my business, of course," he told himself. + </p> + <p> + It was Saturday morning. + </p> + <p> + "Do you think you could go down, Pat, when the dishes are + finished?" + </p> + <p> + "Indeed, and I can that, ma'am," returned Pat heartily. + </p> + <p> + "Do so, then," was the reply. And Mrs. Brady walked away with + a relieved air. + </p> + <p> + "I'm ready, ma'am," announced Pat, coming to the sitting-room + door a little later. "Will you be havin' me to take the list + to General Brady, or will you be havin' me to be doin' the + buyin' myself?" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brady thought a moment. Her husband very much disliked + marketing. If Pat should prove as capable in that direction + as in every other, the General would be saved what was to him + a disagreeable task. She resolved to try him. So she said, + "You may do the buying yourself, Pat." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you kindly, ma'am," answered Pat respectfully. + </p> + <p> + "Do you like to buy things?" asked Mrs. Brady, surprised at + the expression of anticipated pleasure on the boy's face. + </p> + <p> + "I don't like nothin' better, ma'am. 'Twas but a taste I'd + got of it before I left home. Mike does our buyin' now. + Buyin's next best to sellin', we both think." + </p> + <p> + He took the list Mrs. Brady held out and ran his eye over it. + "I'll be takin' my basket and bring the little things home + myself", he said. "Would you believe it, ma'am, some of them + delivery boys is snoopy, I've been told. Not all of 'em, of + course, but some of 'em just. Now raisins, you've got here. + Raisins is mighty good, but let 'em buy their own,' says I. + And don't you be doin' nothin' but restin', ma'am, while I'm + gone. If I'm off enjoyin' myself 'tain't fair as you should + be up here a-workin'. There's not much to be done anyway, but + I'll get through with it," he ended with a smile. + </p> + <p> + Away went Pat, stepping jauntily with his basket on his arm. + It was the first of June, and Wennott, embowered in trees, + was beautiful. He had almost reached the square before he + thought, "She never told me where to go. I can't be wastin' + my time goin' back. I'll just step into the bank and ask the + General." + </p> + <p> + Pat loved the General. A woman's apron was the bond that + bound the poor Irish boy to the fine old soldier, and it was + with the smile that the boy kept exclusively for him that he + stepped in at the open door of the bank. + </p> + <p> + The General was engaged, but he found time to answer the + smile and to say in his most genial tone, "In a moment, Pat." + </p> + <p> + He was soon at liberty, and then he said, "Now, Pat, what is + it?" + </p> + <p> + "Please, sir, have you any one place where you want me to be + tradin', or am I to buy where the goods suit me?" + </p> + <p> + "Are you doing the marketing to-day, Pat?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir. Mrs. Brady give me leave." + </p> + <p> + "And what is your own idea about trading?" + </p> + <p> + "Buy where you can do the best for the money, sir," was the + prompt reply. + </p> + <p> + The banker looked at him thoughtfully. He had the key to + Pat's future now. He knew along what line to push him, for he + was determined to push Pat. And then he said, "Buy where you + think best. But did Mrs. Brady give you money?" + </p> + <p> + "She did, sir. This creditin' is poor business. Show 'em your + money, and they'll do better by you every time." + </p> + <p> + The General listened in so interested a manner that Pat + added, "It's because the storemen can get all the creditin' + they want to do and more, too, but them as steps up with the + cash, them's the ones they're after." + </p> + <p> + "And who taught you this, Pat?" + </p> + <p> + "Sure and my mother told me part of it, and part of it I just + picked up. But I'll be goin' now, or Mrs. Brady will think + I'm never comin'. She'll be teachin' me to-day to make a fine + puddin' for your dinner." + </p> + <p> + The first store Pat went into had already several customers. + As he entered, the clerks saw a tall boy wearing a blouse + shirt and cottonade trousers, and having on his head a + broad-brimmed straw hat well set back. And they seemed not at + all interested in him. The basket on his arm was also against + him. "Some greeny that wants a nickel's worth of beans, I + suppose," said one. + </p> + <p> + But if the clerks seemed to make little of Pat, Pat, for his + part, regarded them with indifference. The sight of the + General making gravy had changed the boy's whole outlook; and + he had come to feel that whoever concerned himself with Pat + O'Callaghan's business was out of his province. Pat was + growing independent. + </p> + <p> + Other customers came in and were waited upon out of their + turn while Pat was left unnoticed. + </p> + <p> + "That's no way to do business," he thought, "but if they can + stand it, I can." And he looked about him with a critical + air. He was not going off in a huff, and perhaps missing the + chance of buying to advantage for the General. At last a + clerk drew near—a smallish, dapper young fellow of + about twenty. + </p> + <p> + "I'll be lookin' at raisins," said Pat. + </p> + <p> + "How many'll you have?" asked the clerk, stepping down the + store on the inside of the counter, while Pat followed on the + outside. + </p> + <p> + "I said I'd be lookin' at 'em," answered Pat. "I don't want + none of 'em if they don't suit." + </p> + <p> + The clerk glanced at him a little sharply, and then handed + out a sample bunch of a poor quality. + </p> + <p> + Pat did not offer to touch them. + </p> + <p> + "They'll not do," he said. "Have you no better ones? I want + to see the best ones you've got." + </p> + <p> + "What's the matter with these?" asked the clerk quickly. + </p> + <p> + "And how can I tell what's the matter with 'em? They're not + the kind for General Brady, and that you know as well as I." + </p> + <p> + At mention of the General's name the clerk pricked up his + ears. It would be greatly to his credit if, through him, + their house should catch General Brady's trade. He became + deferential at once. But he might as well have spared his + pains. No one, with Pat as buyer, would be able to catch or + to keep the General's trade. Whoever offered the best for the + money would sell to him. + </p> + <p> + The boy had the same experience in every store he entered, as + he went about picking up one article here and another there + till all were checked off his list. + </p> + <p> + "There's more'n me thinks the General's a fine man," he + thought as he went home. "There didn't nobody care about + sellin' to me, but they was all after the General's trade, so + they was. And now I must hurry, for my work's a-waitin' for + me, and the puddin' to be learnin' besides. Would I be goin' + back to live off my mother now, and her a-washin' to keep me? + Indeed and I wouldn't. The meanest thing a boy can be doin', + I believe, is to be lettin' his mother keep him if he can get + a bit of work of any sort." + </p> + <p> + With his mother's shrewd counsel backing him up, and with the + General constantly before him to be admired and imitated, Pat + was developing a manly spirit. When he went to live with Mrs. + Brady, he had offered his mother the dollar a week he was to + receive as wages. + </p> + <p> + "Sure and I'll not be takin' it, Pat," said the little woman + decidedly. + </p> + <p> + To-night he had come home again, and this time he had brought + three dollars with him. + </p><img src="images/ill106.png" width="150" height="444" align="left" + hspace="20" alt="[Illustration: Pat doing the marketing.]"> + <p> + "I told you I'd not be takin' it, Pat, and I won't nayther." + Though the widow would not touch the coin, she looked + lovingly at her son and went on, "It's ginerous you are, + loike your father, but you're helpin' me enough when you take + your board off my hands. You must save your money to buy + clothes for yoursilf, for you need 'em, Pat dear. Mrs. Brady + can't be puttin' up with too badly dressed help. Now don't + you be spakin' yet," she continued, as she saw him about to + remonstrate. "It's a skame of my own I've got that I want to + be tellin' you about, for it's a comfort you are to me, Pat. + Many's the mother as can't say that to her oldest son, and + all on account of the son bein' anything but a comfort, do + you see? But I can say it, Pat, and mean it, too. A comfort + you are to me." + </p> + <p> + Pat smiled as he listened. + </p> + <p> + "Do you know, Pat," pursued his mother earnestly, "as I'm + goin' to my washin' places, I goes and comes different ways + whiniver I can, for what's the use of always goin' the same + way loike a horse in a treadmill when you don't have to? + Course, if you have to, that's different. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Pat, sure there's an awful lot of cows kept in this + town. And I've found out that most of 'em is put out to + pasture in Jansen's pasture north of the railroad. It runs + north most to the cemetery, I'm told. But what of that when + the gate's at this end? You don't have to drive the cows no + further than the gate, Pat, dear. And the gate you almost + passes when you're goin' to Gineral Brady's by the back way + up the track. It's not far from us, by no manes." + </p> + <p> + Pat's face expressed surprise. Did his mother want him to + drive cows in addition to his other work? + </p> + <p> + "Now all these cows. Pat," continued his mother impressively, + "belongs wan cow at a house. I don't know but wan house where + they kapes more, and their own b'ys does the drivin', and + that wouldn't do us no good. The pay is fifty cents a month + for drivin' a cow out in the mornin' and drivin' it back at + night, and them drivin' b'ys runs 'em till the folks, many of + 'em, is wantin' a different koind of b'ys. Now what if I + could get about ten cows, and put Andy and Jim to drive 'em + turn about, wan out and the other back. Wouldn't that be a + good thing? Five dollars a month to put to the sixteen I earn + a-washin', and not too hard on the b'ys, nayther. Don't you + think 'twould be a good thing, Pat?" + </p> + <p> + "I do, indeed, mother," answered the son approvingly. + </p> + <p> + "I knowed you would, and I belave your father would. How is + it you come to be so like him, Pat, dear? The blessed angels + know. But you're a comfort to me. And now will you help me to + get the cows? If you could get a riference, I belave they + calls it, from the Gineral, for we're mostly strangers yet. + You can say you know Andy and Jim won't run the cows." + </p> + <p> + The reference was had from the General that very evening, + though the old soldier could not help smiling to himself over + it, and the first of the week found Andy and Jim trudging + daily to and from the pasture. + </p> + <p> + It was not without something like a spirit of envy that + Barney and Tommie saw Jim and Andy driving the cows. + </p> + <p> + "Mother, why can't we be goin', too?" teased Barney, while + Tommie stood by with pouting lips. + </p> + <p> + "And what for would you be goin'?" asked the widow. "Most + cows don't loike little b'ys. They knows, does the cows, that + little b'ys is best off somewhere else than tryin' to drive + them about sayin,' 'Hi! hi!' and showin' 'em a stick." + </p> + <p> + The two still showing discontent, she continued: "But geese, + now, is different. And who's to be moindin' the geese, if you + and Tommie was to go off after the cows? Sure geese is more + your size than cows, I'm thinkin', and, by the same token, I + hear 'em a-squawkin' now. What's the matter with 'em? Go see. + Not that anybody iver knows what's the matter with a goose," + she ended as the little boys chased out of the shanty. "It's + for that they're called geese, I shouldn't wonder." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch009"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + There is no whip to ambition like success. Every day the + widow thought, and toiled, and kept her eyes open for chances + for her boys. "For, after all," said she, "twenty-one dollars + a month is all too small to kape six b'ys and mesilf when the + winter's a-comin', and 'twon't be twenty-one then nayther, + for cows ain't drove to pasture in winter." + </p> + <p> + It was the second son who was listening this time, and the + two were alone in the shanty kitchen. + </p> + <p> + "The days is long, and I belave, Moike, you could do + something else than our own housework, with Andy here to look + after the little b'ys." + </p> + <p> + "Say what it is, mother dear, and I'll do it," cried Mike, + who had been envying Pat his chance to earn. + </p> + <p> + "Well, then, to be telling you the truth, Moike, who should + be askin' me if I knowed of a boy to kape his lawn clean this + summer but the Gineral. Says I, 'I do, Gineral Brady. I'll be + bold to say my Moike will do it.' So there I've promised for + you, Moike, and you're to have a dollar a month." + </p> + <p> + The boy's delight at the prospect shone in his eyes and his + mother went on, "Strong and hearty you are, Moike, and I've + been thinkin' what's to hinder your gettin' other lawns with + school out next week and nothin' to bother you." + </p> + <p> + The little woman looked tired and warm. She was just home + from Thursday's wash, and she sat down wearily on one of the + wooden chairs. Mike saw it, and, to the boy who would be + fourteen the next day, there suddenly came a realizing sense + of the stay his mother was to the family. He noted with + anxiety the lines that were deepening on her face. "Sit in + father's chair, mother dear," he coaxed. "'Twill rest you + more." + </p> + <p> + The widow looked at him with a pleased expression creeping + over her face. + </p> + <p> + "You're father and mother both, so you are. Sit in father's + chair," persuaded Mike. + </p> + <p> + "No," she answered, as she rose and went over to the seat of + honor. "Don't praise me too much. I'm jist your mother, doin' + the best I can for you, though." + </p> + <p> + And she sat down and leaned her head against the back of the + chair. + </p> + <p> + The sturdy figure of the boy began to move briskly about. He + made up the fire and then he slipped out at the door and took + an observation. No shade anywhere but at the east end of the + shanty, where the building itself threw a shade. He hurried + in again. + </p> + <p> + "Will you be gettin' up, mother dear, if you please?" + </p> + <p> + In surprise she stood up. The strong, young arms reached past + her, lifted the chair, and then the boy began to pick his way + carefully so as not to strike this treasured possession + against anything. + </p> + <p> + "What are you doin', Moike?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan in + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + "I'm takin'—the + chair—outside—where—there's a cool shade. + 'Tis too hot—for you here where I'm cookin'." + </p> + <p> + He turned and looked back as he stood in the doorway. "Come, + mother dear, and rest you in the cool." + </p> + <p> + "Moike! Moike!" cried the widow, touched by this attention. + "'Tis what your father would have done if he was here. Always + afraid he was, that I would be gettin' overtired or + something. 'Tis sweet to have his b'y so loike him." + </p> + <p> + Mike's heart gave a great throb. He knew now the taste of + that praise that kept Pat pushing ahead. "'Tis for Pat to + lead—he's the oldest," he thought over his cooking. + "But see if I don't be lookin' out for mother after this, and + makin' it as easy for her as I can. I'd lug forty chairs ten + miles, so I would, to have her praise me like that." + </p> + <p> + The next morning the widow rose still weary. The kitchen was + uncomfortably warm as a sleeping place now, but what could be + done about it? Nothing. + </p> + <p> + "It's all there is, and I won't be sayin' a word about it, so + I won't," she thought. "I'll jist tuck Larry in with Moike, + and I guess I can stand it." + </p> + <p> + Wash day for the home. She hardly felt equal to her task. + </p> + <p> + Breakfast was over, but what was Mike doing? Not making his + beds, nor washing his dishes. He had put on and filled the + boiler. Now he was carrying out wash bench and tubs to the + west side of the shanty. The west was the shady side of a + morning. In he came again—this time for the father's + chair. + </p> + <p> + "'Tis an iligant breeze there is this mornin'," he cried. + "Come out, mother, dear, and sit in father's chair. You've + got a wash boy this mornin', so you have, and he'll need a + lot of showin'." + </p> + <p> + He reached for the washboard as he ceased, and smiled + lovingly on his mother. + </p> + <p> + "Moike! Moike!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan in a trembling tone, + "'tis sweet to be took care of. I hain't been took care of + since your father died." + </p> + <p> + "Then 'tis time you was!" answered Mike. "And I'm the boy to + do it, too. Come out, mother dear." + </p> + <p> + And the mother went out. + </p> + <p> + "But there's your housework, Moike." + </p> + <p> + "That can wait," was the positive reply. + </p> + <p> + "But there's your schoolin'." + </p> + <p> + "I'm not goin' to school to-day. I know my lessons. I learnt + 'em last night. Will I be goin' to school and sittin' there + all day, and you all tired out a-washin' for us? I won't + that." + </p> + <p> + "Moike, 'twas your father was dreadful headstrong when he set + out to be. It's fearin' I am you're loike him there." + </p> + <p> + But the happy light in her eyes was reflected on the face of + her son as he answered: "It's wantin' I am to be like him in + everything, headstrong and all. I'm not goin' to school + to-day." + </p> + <p> + "And you needn't, Moike. I'll be ownin' to you now I didn't + feel equal to the washin', and that's the truth." + </p> + <p> + Mike nodded and went gayly into the house for warm water and + the clothes. + </p> + <p> + "There's more than one kind of a boy needed in a house," he + said to himself. "With seven of us mother ought to have 'em + of all kinds. I'm the one to be aisin' her. I'm built for + it." And he rolled up his shirt sleeves over his strong, + muscular young arms. + </p> + <p> + "Now be careful," began Mike's first lesson in washing, "and + don't waste the soap and your strength a-tryin' to get the + dirt out of the places that ain't dirty. Rub where the + rubbin's needed, and put the soap where it's wanted. That's + it. You're comin' on foine." And the widow resumed her seat. + </p> + <p> + For a few moments she sat silent in thought. Then she said: + "Do you know what's the matter with this town, Moike? All the + b'ys in it that wants to work at all wants to do somethin' + aisy, loike drivin' a delivery wagon. Though the way they + drive 'em ain't so aisy on the horses, nayther. There's a + lesson for you, Moike. Them that's so aisy on themsilves is + the very wans to be hard on iverything and iverybody. Them + that's got snail's feet of their own can't get a horse to go + fast enough for 'em, specially when the horse belongs to + somebody else. And I'm jist a-gettin' my courage up, Moike. I + belave there'll be always something for my b'ys to do, + because my b'ys will <i>work</i>. And if they can't get b'ys' + work they'll do girls' work. Betwane you and me, Moike, I'm + proud of Pat. Have you heard the news? When school closes + he's to have two dollars a week, and three afternoons out all + summer. And what do you think Mrs. Brady says? She says she + hain't had such help since she lived in the East. She says + she's restin', and she feels ten years younger. That's your + brother's work, Moike,—makin' a lady like Mrs. Gineral + Brady feel ten years younger. If there's aught to be ashamed + of in that, sure 'twould take a ninny to find out what it is. + I'll warrant them delivery b'ys' horses ain't feelin' ten + years younger, anyway." + </p> + <p> + Mike's face showed that he relished his mother's talk; seeing + which, she went on: "You're doin' foine, Moike. Do you know + there was a girl wanst set to washin', and she had it in her + moind to do a good job, too. The first thing she got hold of + was a pillow case with lace on the ind of it—wide lace. + And what does she do but lather that clean lace with soap and + put in her best licks on it, and all to no purpose at all + only to wear the lace to strings, and then, don't you think, + she quite skipped the body of the case where the head had + been a-layin'." + </p> + <p> + Mike laughed. + </p> + <p> + That night as the widow and her boys sat outside the door in + the cool, quick steps came down the track, crunching the + slack and cinders that filled the spaces between the ties. It + was Pat who was coming, and his face was anxious. + </p> + <p> + "What ails you, mother dear?" he cried lovingly. + </p> + <p> + "Why, nothin', Pat, only I've got some sons that spoils me, + so I have, a-makin' much of me. 'Tis a dreadful complaint, + ain't it? But there's mothers as is not loike to die of it." + And she laughed half tearfully. She had been nearer breaking + down that morning than she would admit, and her nerves were + still a little unsteady. + </p> + <p> + "Andy told me at recess Mike was stayin' home to wash, and I + didn't know what to think. I've been worryin' about it ever + since, and the minute my work was done I come a-flyin' to + see." + </p> + <p> + "You needn't worry no more, Pat. Sure, and I thought when the + chance come for you to go to Mrs. Gineral Brady 'twas because + the Lord saw our need. And that was it, no doubt, but there's + more to it, Pat. You went that I might foind out what koind + of a b'y Moike is. You moind what I told you about + permotions, Pat? 'Twas your steppin' up that give Moike his + chance to show what he could do. And Moike was ready for it. + Chances don't do nobody no good that ain't ready for 'em. + Andy there is a-watchin', I know." + </p> + <p> + The frail little fellow smiled. There was some light on the + group, thrown from the electric light tower, but not enough + to show the wistfulness of the boy's face, and the widow + burned no oil in summer. Privately, Andy was afraid chances + would not do him much good. + </p> + <p> + "Why," continued the widow, "even the little b'ys, Barney and + Tommie, was a-watchin' the other day for chances. 'Twas them + that wanted to be takin' the job of drivin' the cows from + Andy and Jim, and leavin' their geese to do it, too. There's + big b'ys, I'm thinkin', that's after cows when geese would be + better suited to 'em." + </p> + <p> + Barney and Tommie were drowsing, but Jim blushed. He knew + that reproof was meant for him. Mrs. O'Callaghan had been + thinking about her fourth son to-day in the unaccustomed + leisure given her by Mike. + </p> + <p> + "How it is I don't know," she mused, "but he do have a + wonderful knack at rilin' up the little b'ys, and he'd iver + be doin' somethin' he can't do at all. I'll be lookin' into + Jim's case. There shan't wan of Tim's b'ys be sp'iled if I + can help it." + </p> + <p> + "It's time you was goin', ain't it, Pat?" suggested Mike. + </p> + <p> + At this breach of hospitality the widow was astounded. Mike + to speak like that! + </p> + <p> + For a second Pat seemed hurt. "I could have stayed half an + hour longer, but I'll go," he said, rising. + </p> + <p> + "And I'll go with you a ways!" exclaimed Mike, jumping up + very promptly. + </p> + <p> + Pat's farewells were said and the two were off before Mrs. + O'Callaghan had recovered herself enough to remonstrate. + </p> + <p> + "I wanted to be talkin' to you, Pat, and I didn't want mother + to hear. That kitchen's too hot for her to sleep in, and + that's the truth." + </p> + <p> + "But there ain't no other place," answered Pat anxiously. + </p> + <p> + "No," returned Mike triumphantly. "There ain't no other place + for mother to sleep, but there is a place we could put the + stove, and that's outside." + </p> + <p> + "What in?" inquired Pat gloomily. + </p> + <p> + "What in? In nothin', of course. There's nothin' there. But + couldn't we stick in four poles and put old boards across + so's the stove would be covered, and run the pipe out of a + hole in the top?" + </p> + <p> + "We might," returned Pat, "but you'll have to make up your + mind to get wet a-cookin' more days than one. All the rains + don't come straight down. There's them that drives under. And + you'd have to be carrying the things in through the wet when + you got 'em cooked, too." + </p> + <p> + "And what of that?" asked Mike. "Do you think I care for + that? What's me gettin' wet to makin' mother comfortable? + There's July and August comin' yet, and June only begun." + </p> + <p> + Pat looked at his brother admiringly, though the + semi-darkness did not permit his expression to be seen. + </p> + <p> + "We'll do it!" said he. "I'll help you dig the holes for the + posts and all. We'll begin to-morrow evenin'. I know Mrs. + Brady will let me come when my work's done." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch010"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + The next morning Pat went about with a preoccupied air. But + all his work was done with his accustomed dispatch and skill, + nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + "What is on my boy's mind?" thought Mrs. Brady. Yes, that is + what she thought—"<i>my</i> boy." + </p> + <p> + And just then Pat looked into the sitting-room with his + basket on his arm. "I'll just be doin' the marketin' now, + ma'am," he said. + </p> + <p> + "Very well," smiled Mrs. Brady. "Here's a rose for your + buttonhole. You look very trim this morning." + </p> + <p> + Pat blushed with pleasure, and, advancing, took the flower. + The poor Irish boy had instinctively dainty tastes, and the + love of flowers was one of them. But even before the blossom + was made fast, the preoccupied look returned. + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Brady, ma'am, would you care if I stopped at the lumber + yard while I'm down town? I'd like to be gettin' some of + their cheapest lumber sent home this afternoon." + </p> + <p> + "Why, no, Pat. Stop, of course." + </p> + <p> + Pat was encouraged. "I know I was out last night," he said. + "But could I be goin' again this evenin' after my work's + done? Mike's got a job on hand that I want to help him at." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Pat." + </p> + <p> + "You see, ma'am," said the boy gratefully, "we're goin' to + rig up something to put the cook-stove in so as mother will + be cooler. It's too hot for her sleepin' in the kitchen." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brady looked thoughtful. Then she said: "You are such a + good, dutiful boy to me, Pat, that I think I must reconsider + my permission. Lunch is prepared. You may go home as soon as + you have finished your marketing and help Mike till it is + time to get dinner. We will have something simple, so you + need not be back until four this afternoon, and you may go + again this evening to finish what remains to be done." + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Brady, ma'am," cried Pat from his heart, "you're next + to the General, that's what you are, and I thank you." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brady smiled. She knew the boy's love for her husband, + and she understood that to stand next to the General in Pat's + estimation was to be elevated to a pinnacle. "Thank you, + Pat," she replied. Then she went on snipping at the choice + plants she kept in the house, even in summer, and Pat, + proudly wearing his rose, hurried off. + </p> + <p> + But when Pat arrived at home and hastened out behind the + shanty, the post-holes were dug. Mike had risen at three + o'clock that morning, dug each one and covered it with a bit + of board before his mother was up. + </p> + <p> + "And have you come to say you can't come this evenin'?" asked + Mike, as Pat advanced to where he was sorting over such old + scraps of boards as he had been permitted to pick up and + carry home. + </p> + <p> + "I've come to get to work this minute," replied Pat, throwing + off his blouse and hanging it on the sill of the open window, + with the rose uppermost. + </p> + <p> + "Where'd you get that rose?" inquired Mike, bending to inhale + its fragrance. + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Brady give it to me." + </p> + <p> + "Mother would think it was pretty," with a glance at his + older brother. + </p> + <p> + "And she shall have it," said Pat. "But them boards won't do. + I've bought some cheap ones at the lumber yard, and they're + on the way. And here's the nails. We'll get that stove out + this day, I'm thinkin'. I couldn't sleep in my bed last night + for thinkin' of mother roastin' by it." + </p> + <p> + "Nor I, neither," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Well, let's get to diggin' the holes." + </p> + <p> + "They're dug." + </p> + <p> + "When did you dig 'em?" + </p> + <p> + "Before day." + </p> + <p> + "Does mother know?" + </p> + <p> + "Never a word." + </p> + <p> + Pat went from corner to corner and peered critically down + into each hole. + </p> + <p> + "You're the boy, Mike, and that's a fact," was his approving + sentence. + </p> + <p> + Just then the boards came and were thrown off with a great + clatter. Mrs. O'Callaghan hurried to the door. "Now, b'ys, + what's the meanin' of this?" she questioned when the man had + gone. + </p> + <p> + "Have my rose, mother dear," said Pat. + </p> + <p> + "And it's a pretty rose, so it is," responded Mrs. + O'Callaghan, receiving it graciously. "But it don't answer my + question. What'll you be doin' with them boords?" + </p> + <p> + "Now, mother, it's Mike's plan, but I'm into it, too, and we + want to surprise you. Can't you trust us?" + </p> + <p> + "I can," was the answer. "Go on with your surprise." And she + went back into the shanty. + </p> + <p> + Then the boys set to work in earnest. Four scantlings had + come with the boards, and were speedily planted firmly. + </p> + <center> + <img src="images/ill129.png" width="400" height="670" alt= + "[Illustration: Pat and Mike building the kitchen.]"> + </center> + <p> + "We don't need no saw, for the boards are of the right + length, so they are. A man at the yard sawed 'em for me. He + said he could as well as not. Folks are mighty good to us, + Mike; have you noticed?" + </p> + <p> + "The right sort are good to us, of course. Them Jim Barrows + boys are anything but good. They sets on all of us as much as + they dares." + </p> + <p> + By three o'clock the roof was on, and the rough scraps Mike + had collected were patched into a sort of protection for a + part of the east side of the new kitchen. + </p> + <p> + "Now let's be after the stove!" cried Mike. + </p> + <p> + In they went, very important. + </p> + <p> + "Mother, dear, we'd like to be takin' down your stove, if + you'll let us," said Pat. + </p> + <p> + The widow smiled. "I lets you," she answered. + </p> + <p> + Down came the stovepipe to be carried out. Then the lids and + the doors were taken off to make the heavy load lighter. And + then under went the truck that Andy had run to borrow, and + the stove was out. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Callaghan carefully refrained from looking at them, + but cheerful sounds came in through doors and windows as the + big boys worked and the little ones crowded close with eager + enjoyment of the unusual happening. Presently there came + tones of dismay. + </p> + <p> + "Pat," said Mike, "there's no hole to run the pipe through. + What'll we do?" + </p> + <p> + "We'll have to be cuttin' one, and with a jackknife, too, for + we've nothin' else. But I'll have to be goin' now. I was to + be back by four, you know." + </p> + <p> + "Then we'll call the mother out and show her the surprise + now," said Mike. "I'll make short work of cuttin' that hole + after you're gone." + </p> + <p> + "Will you be steppin' out, mother dear?" invited Mike + gallantly. + </p> + <p> + "You'll not be roastin' by the stove no more this summer," + observed Pat. + </p> + <p> + The widow came out. She looked at the rough roof supported by + the four scantlings, and then at her boys. + </p> + <p> + "Sure, 'tis a nice, airy kitchen, so it is," she said. "And + as for the surprise, 'tis jist the koind of a wan your father + was always thinkin' up. As you say, I'll not be roastin' no + more. But it's awful warm you've made my heart, b'ys. It's a + warm heart that's good to have summer and winter." And then + she broke down. "Niver do you moind me, b'ys," she went on + after a moment. "'Tis this sort of tears that makes a + mother's loife long, so 'tis." + </p> + <p> + "Well, Mrs. Brady, ma'am, we're done," reported Pat at a few + minutes before four. "Mike, he'd got up and dug all the holes + before day, and it didn't take us so long." + </p> + <p> + "And is the stove out?" inquired Mrs. Brady kindly. + </p> + <p> + "It is, ma'am. Mike will be cookin' out there this evenin'. + Mike's gettin' to be the cook, ma'am. I show him all I learn + here, and he soon has it better than I have myself." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brady smiled. How Mike could do better than Pat she did + not see, but she could see the brotherly spirit that made Pat + believe it. + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps you had better go over again this evening," she + said, "just to see if the stove draws well in the new + kitchen." + </p> + <p> + "Do you mean it, ma'am?" asked the boy eagerly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, kindly. I'd like to go, but I wasn't goin' to + ask. My mother says askin's a bad habit. Them that has it is + apt to ask more than they'd ought to many times." + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, up on the roof of the new kitchen in the hot + afternoon sun sat Mike with his knife. He had marked out the + size of the pipe-hole with a pencil, and with set lips was + putting all the force of his strong, young arms into the + work. A big straw hat was on his head—a common straw, + worth about fifteen cents. Clustered below were the little + boys. + </p> + <p> + "No, you can't come up," Mike had just said in answer to + their entreaties. "The roof won't bear you." + </p> + <p> + "'Twould bear me, and I could help you cut the hole," said + Jim. + </p> + <p> + "There goes Jim again," soliloquized the widow. "Wantin' to + cut a round hole in a boord with a knife, when 'tis only + himself he'd be cuttin', and not the boord at all. It's not + so much that he's iver for doin' what he can't, but he's + awful set against doin' what he can. Jim, come here!" she + called. + </p> + <p> + Jim obeyed. + </p> + <p> + "You see how loike your father Pat and Moike and Andy is, + some wan way and some another. Do you want to be loike him, + too?" + </p><img src="images/ill135.png" width="200" height="293" align= + "right" hspace="20" alt= + "[Illustration: Up on the roof sat Mike with his knife.]"> + <p> + Jim owned that he did. + </p> + <p> + "Well, then, remimber your father would niver have been for + climbin' to the roof of the new kitchen and cuttin' a round + hole in a boord with a knife so as to run the pipe through + when he was your soize. But he would have been for huntin' up + some dry kindlin' to start the fire for supper. So, now, + there's your job, Jim, and do it good. Don't come back with a + skimpin' bit that won't start the coal at all." + </p> + <p> + With lagging steps Jim set off to the patch of hazel brush + north of the shanty to pick up such dry twigs as he could. + His mother gazed after him. + </p> + <p> + "Tim left me a fortune when he left me my b'ys, all but Jim," + she said, "and see if I don't make something out of him, too. + Pat and Moike and Andy—showin' that you sense what + they're doin' is enough for 'em. Jist that will kape 'em + goin' foine. But Jim, he'll take leadin' with praise and + shovin' with blame, and he'll get both of 'em from me, so he + will. For sure, he's Tim's b'y, too, and will I be leavin' + him to spoil for want of a harsh word now and then? I won't + that. There's them in this world that needs settin' up and + there's them that needs takin' down a peg. And wanst in a + while you see wan that needs both of 'em, and that's Jim, so + 'tis. Well, I know it in toime, that's wan thing." + </p> + <p> + Jim made such slow progress that the hole was cut, the pipe + run through, and Mike was beginning to look about for his own + kindling when he made his appearance. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Jim," said his mother, taking him aside, "there's + something the matter with your feet, I'm thinkin', you've + been gone so long. You was all but missin' the chance of + seein' the first fire started in the new kitchen. There's + something to remimber—seein' a sight loike + that—and then you have it to think about that it was + yoursilf that provided the kindlin' for it. All this you was + on the p'int of losin' through bein' slow on your feet. Your + father was the spriest koind of a b'y, I'm told. Only show + him an errand, and he was off on it. Get some spryness into + your feet if you want to be like your father, and run, now, + to see Moike loight the fire. And don't be reachin' to take + the match out of his hand, nayther. Your toime of fire + buildin' will come." + </p> + <p> + Away went Jim. He was certainly spry enough now. Mike was + just setting the blazing match to the kindling when he + reached the group around the stove. At the front stood the + little boys, and in a twinkling Jim had pushed them one this + way, one that, in order to stand directly in front of the + stove himself. + </p> + <p> + "There he goes again," sighed the widow. "'Tis a many pegs + Jim will have to be took down, I'm thinkin'." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch011"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + It was the last day of August that Pat went walking down to + do his marketing with a jubilant air. Next week school was to + begin, and with the beginning of the term he had expected to + go back to his old wages of a dollar a week. But that morning + Mrs. Brady had told him that he was still to have two + dollars. + </p> + <p> + "And me goin' to school?" asked the boy in surprise. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Pat. You have come to be very skillful about the house + and you are worth it." + </p> + <p> + "I wasn't thinkin' about gettin' skillful, ma'am, so as to + have my wages raised," was the earnest answer. "I was just + thinkin' how to please you and doin' my best." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brady was touched. "You have pleased me, Pat, and you + have pleased Mr. Brady, too. We both take a great interest in + you." + </p> + <p> + "Do you, ma'am? Then that's better than havin' my wages + raised, though it's glad of the raise I am, too, and thank + you for it. 'Twill be great news to be takin' home the next + time I go." + </p> + <p> + But Pat was to take home greater news than that, though he + did not know it as he went along with all the + light-heartedness of his race. The sight of the tall, slender + boy with his basket on his arm had grown familiar in the + streets of Wennott. He was never left waiting in the stores + now, and nothing but the best was ever offered him. Not only + did the grocers know him, but the butchers, the poulterers, + and even the dry goods merchants. For he often matched silks + and wools for Mrs. Brady, and he had been known to buy towels + of the common sort. A group of loafers shrugged their + shoulders as he passed them this morning, and fell to + repeating anecdotes of his shrewdness when certain dealers + had tried to sell him poor goods at market prices. + </p> + <p> + "There's nobody in this town ever got ahead of him yet on a + deal," said one. "He's so awful honest." + </p> + <p> + "Bein' square himself, he won't take nothin' but squareness + from nobody, and while he's lookin' out for his own chances + he looks out for the other fellow's, too. Times and times + he's handed back nickels and dimes when change wasn't made + straight," contributed a second. + </p> + <p> + "There's two or three store men in town got their eye on him. + They don't like to say nothin', seem' he's cookin' at General + Brady's, but if he ever leaves there, he'll have pick and + choice. Yes, sir, pick and choice," concluded a third. + </p> + <p> + At that very moment a dry goods merchant of the west side of + the square was in the bank talking to General Brady. "I might + as well speak," Mr. Farnham had thought. "If I don't get him, + somebody else will." What the loafers had said was true. + </p> + <p> + "General," began Mr. Farnham, after the two had exchanged + greetings, "I dislike to interfere with your family + arrangements, but I should like to have Pat in the store this + fall. I'll give him fifteen dollars a month." + </p> + <p> + The General smiled. "Fifteen dollars is cheap for Pat, Mr. + Farnham. He's no ordinary boy." + </p> + <p> + "But that's the regular price paid here for beginners," + responded Mr. Farnham. "And he'll have a great deal to + learn." + </p> + <p> + "Have you spoken to him yet?" + </p> + <p> + "No, I thought I would speak to you first." + </p> + <p> + "Well, Mr. Farnham, Mrs. Brady and I some time ago decided + that, much as we should like to keep Pat with us, we would + not stand in his way when his chance came, I think this is + his chance. And I don't doubt he'll come to you." + </p> + <p> + After a little further talk between the two General Brady + said: "There is another matter I wish to mention. Mrs. + O'Callaghan has set her heart on having Pat graduate from the + public school. He could do so easily in another year, but + with his strong mercantile bent, and taking into + consideration the struggle his mother is obliged to make to + keep him there, I don't think it best. For, while Pat + supports himself, he can do nothing to help at home. I ask + you to give him one evening out a week, Mr. Farnham, and I + will direct his reading on that evening. If I can bring him + up and keep him abreast of the times, and prevent him from + getting into mischief, he'll do." + </p> + <p> + "I shouldn't think he could accomplish much with one evening + a week, General," objected Mr. Farnham, who did not wish to + give Pat a regular evening out. An occasional evening was + enough, he thought. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes, he can," insisted the General. "The most of his + reading he will do at odd minutes, and that evening will be + chiefly a resume and discussion of what he has gone over + during the week." + </p> + <p> + "You must take a strong interest in the boy, General." + </p> + <p> + "I do. I don't mind telling you privately, Mr. Farnham, that + I mean to push him. Not by charity, which, to the best of my + belief, not an O'Callaghan would take, but by giving him + every opportunity in my power to advance for himself." + </p> + <p> + "In other words, you mean to protect the boy's interests, + General?" + </p> + <p> + "I do. As I said before, fifteen dollars a month is cheap for + Pat. I suppose he is to have, in addition, his one evening a + week?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," agreed Mr. Farnham, reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + "Thank you," said the General, courteously. + </p> + <p> + General Brady had intended to keep his news from Pat until + the next morning, but it would not keep. As the boy, with his + spotless apron on, brought in the dinner and stood ready to + wait at table, the old soldier found the words crowding to + the tip end of his tongue. His keen eyes shone, and he + regarded with a most kindly gaze the lad who, to make life a + little easier for his mother, had faced jeers and contempt + and had turned himself into a girl—a kitchen girl. It + was not with his usual smoothness, but quite abruptly, that + he began: "Pat, you are to leave us, it seems." + </p> + <p> + Pat so far forgot his manners as to stop and stare blankly at + his employer. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Pat. You are going into Mr. Farnham's store this fall + at fifteen dollars a month." + </p> + <p> + If anything could have more endeared him to the General and + his wife it was the way in which Pat received this, to him, + important communication. He looked from one to the other and + back again, his face radiant with delight. The born trader + was to have an opportunity to trade. + </p> + <p> + And then his expression sobered. "But what will Mrs. Brady be + doin' without me?" he cried. "Sure she's used to me now, and + she's not strong, either." + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps Mike would come," suggested Mrs. Brady. + </p> + <p> + "He'll be glad to do it, ma'am!" exclaimed Pat, his joy + returning. "'Tis himself that thinks its first the General + and then you, just as I do." + </p> + <p> + "I hope you may always think so," said Mrs. Brady, smiling. + </p> + <p> + "Sure and I will. How could I be thinkin' anything else?" + </p> + <p> + And then the meal went on. + </p> + <p> + That evening, by permission, Pat went home. He sang, he + whistled, he almost danced down the track. + </p> + <p> + "And it's Pat as is the happy b'y this evenin'," said Mrs. + O'Callaghan. "Listen to him singin' and whistlin', first wan + and then the other. Gineral Brady's is the place for any + one." + </p> + <p> + The family were sitting in the kitchen, for the evening was a + trifle cool. But the windows were open and there was a lamp + burning. + </p> + <p> + "He's got some good news, I guess," remarked quiet Andy. + </p> + <p> + The mother gave him a quick glance. "Andy," she said, "you're + the b'y as is different from all the rest, and a comfort you + are, too. 'Tisn't ivery family has a b'y as can hear good + news when it's comin'." + </p> + <p> + And then Pat came in. His eyes were ablaze, and his wide + mouth wore its most joyous smile. He looked round upon them + all for one second, and then, in a ringing voice, he cried: + "Mother! Oh, mother, it's to Mr. Farnham's store I'm to go, + and I'm to have fifteen dollars a month, and the General is + going to help me with my books, and Mrs. Brady wants Mike to + go to her!" + </p> + <p> + It was all out in a breath, and it was such a tremendous + piece of news that it left them all gasping but Larry, who + understood not a thing but that Pat had come, and who stood + waiting to be noticed by the big brother. For a full moment + there was neither speech nor motion. Then the widow looked + slowly round upon her sons. Her heart was full of gratitude + to the Bradys, of pride in Pat, of exultation over his good + fortune, and, at the same time, her eyes were brimming with + tears. + </p> + <p> + "B'ys," she said at last, "I wasn't looking for permotions + quite so soon again. But I belave that where they've come + wanst, they're loikely to be comin' again, if them that's + permoted lives up to their chances. Who's been permoted in + Mr. Farnham's store, I can't say. But sure Pat, he steps up, + and Moike steps into the good place Pat has stepped out of, + and gives Andy his chance here at home. There's them that + says there's no chances for anybody any more, but the world's + full of chances. It's nothin' but chances, so 'tis. Sure a + body don't want to be jerked from wan thing to another so + quick their head spins, and so chances come along pretty + middlin' slow. But the world's full of 'em. Let Andy wanst + get larned here at home, and you'll be seein' what he'll do. + Andy's not so strong as some, and he'll need help. I'm + thinkin' I'll make a team out of him and Jim." + </p> + <p> + "I don't want to be helpin'. I want to be doin' mesilf," + objected Jim. + </p> + <p> + "And what will you be doin'?" asked the widow. "You're full + short for spreadin' bedclothes, for though nine years makes a + b'y plinty big enough for some things, it laves him a bit + small for others. You can't be cookin' yet, nor sweepin', nor + even loightin' fires. But you shall be doin', since doin's + what you want. You shall wipe the dishes, and set the table, + and do the dustin', and get the kindlin', and sure you'll be + tired enough when you've all that done to make you glad + you're no older and no bigger. Your father, when he was + noine, would have thought that a plinty for him, and so it's + a plinty for you, as you'll foind. You're quite young to be + permoted that high," went on his mother, seeing a + discontented expression on the little fellow's face. "Only + for the big b'ys gettin' ahead so fast, you wouldn't have no + chance at all, and folks wouldn't think you much bigger than + Barney there, so they wouldn't. B'ys of nine that gets any + sort of permotion is doin' foine, let me tell you. And now's + your chance to show Moike that you can kape the dishes + shinin', and niver a speck of dust on anything as well as he + could himsilf." + </p> + <p> + Jim straightened himself, and Mike smiled encouragingly upon + him. "You can do it, Jim," he said with a nod. + </p> + <p> + And Jim decided then and there that he would do it. + </p> + <p> + "I'll be lookin' round when I come to visit you all from Mrs. + Brady's, and I expect to be proud of Jim," added Mike. + </p> + <p> + And Jim increased his determination. He wanted to have Mike + proud of him. Very likely Mike would not be proud of the + little boys. There was nothing about them to be proud of. "He + shall be proud of me," thought Jim, and an important look + stole over his face. "He'll be tellin' me I'm the b'y, I + shouldn't wonder." + </p> + <p> + And now the widow's mind went swiftly back to the General. + "Sure, and it's a wonderful man he is," she cried. "Your + father was jist such a man, barrin' he was Irish and no + Gineral at all. 'Twas him that was at the bottom of your + gettin' the place to Mr. Farnham's, a-trustin' you to do all + the buyin' so's folks could see what was in you. It's sorry I + am about the graduation, but the Gineral knows best, so he + does." + </p> + <center> + <img src="images/ill151.png" width="400" height="268" alt= + "[Illustration: Barney and Tommie a-takin' care of the geese.]"> + </center> + <p> + Then her thought turned to the finances of the family. "And + how much is sixteen and fifteen?" she asked. "Sure, and it's + thirty-wan. Thirty-wan dollars a month for us this winter, + and Moike takin' care of himself, to say nothin' of what + Moike has earned with the lawn mower. 'Blessin's on the man + that invented it,' says I, 'and put folks in the notion of + havin' their lawns kept neat, 'cause they could do it cheap.' + And there's what Andy and Jim has made a-drivin' the cows, + and Barney and Tommie a-takin' care of the geese. Wennott's + the town for them as can work. And bad luck to lazy bones + anyway. It's thankful I am I've got none of 'em in my + family." + </p> + <p> + She paused a moment in reflection. + </p> + <p> + "Them geese now is foine. Do you think, Pat, the Gineral and + Mrs. Brady would enjoy eatin' wan of 'em when it's a bit + cooler? You knows what they loikes by this time." + </p> + <p> + "I think they would, mother." + </p> + <p> + "Then it's the best of the lot they shall have. Bad luck to + them that's always a-takin' and niver wantin' to be givin' + back." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch012"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + The fall term opened and found Mike the head of the + O'Callaghan tribe, as the brothers had been jeeringly called + by the Jim Barrows set. And Mike was a good head. The sort of + boy to impress others with the good sense of minding their + own business. His blue eyes had a determined look, as he came + on the campus the first morning of the new term, that made + his old persecutors think it best to withhold such choice + epithets as "Biddy," "Kitchen Girl," and "Scrub Maid," which + they had laid up for him. For they knew that it was Mike who + now did housework at General Brady's. They had never seen + Mike fight. He had always stood back and let Pat lead. But + there was something in his erect and independent bearing on + this autumn morning that made it very evident to the school + bullies that if Mike did not fight it was not because he + could not. + </p> + <p> + "Them O'Callaghans think they're some since General Brady + picked 'em up," commented Jim Barrows, safely out of Mike's + hearing. + </p> + <p> + "General Brady had never heard of them when Pat gave you a + licking, Jim, or don't you remember?" asked Bob Farnham, who + was passing. + </p> + <p> + "Say, Jim," advised a crony, as the two sauntered off + together, "we'd better let them O'Callaghans alone. I don't + like the looks of that Mike. 'Twasn't any wonder that Pat + licked you, for you're not much on the fight anyway. But I + tell you, I wouldn't like to tackle that Mike myself. He's + one of them pleasant kind that's a regular tiger when you + stir him up." + </p> + <p> + "He's been runnin' lawn mowers all summer," observed Jim + reflectively. "I reckon he's got his muscle up. Don't know + but we had best leave him alone." + </p> + <p> + "Let me tell you, Jim, 'twon't do just to let him alone. + We've got to let 'em all alone—Andy and Jim and Barney + and Tommie—or he'll light into us same as Pat did into + you." + </p> + <p> + "Why can't a fellow do just his own fightin'," grumbled Jim + Barrows, "and let the kids look out for themselves?" + </p> + <p> + "Some of 'em can, but the O'Callaghans ain't that kind. Touch + one, touch 'em all, as you'd ought to know, Jim." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, shut up! You needn't be throwin' up that lickin' to me + every minute. I was surprised, I tell you. Astonished, as I + might say. I wasn't lookin' to be pitched into by a low down + Irish boy." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, wasn't you?" queried his friend ironically. "Well, you + keep on a-hectorin', and you'll be surprised again, or + astonished, as you might say. That's all." + </p> + <p> + Jim Barrows had not looked into Mike's eye for nothing. He + knew for himself the truth of all his companion had been + saying, and from that hour the little boys had peace. + </p> + <p> + That same Monday was the most exciting and important day of + his life to Pat. He saw other clerks lagging along without + interest, and he wondered at them. Hitherto, in all + transactions, he had been a buyer. Now he was to sell. + </p> + <p> + Farnham's store was on the west side of the square—a + fair-sized room—but rather dark, and not the best place + in the world to display goods. It was not even the best place + in Wennott, the storerooms of both Wall and Arnold being + newer and better fitted. But displaying goods was not Pat's + affair that morning. It was his part to display a clean floor + and well-dusted shelves and counters to the first customer. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Farnham came in at the hour when he had usually found his + other boy through with the sweeping and dusting, and Pat was + still using the broom. His employer, seeing the skillful + strokes of the broom, wondered. But he was soon enlightened. + Pat was not giving the middle of the floor a brush out. He + was sweeping thoroughly into every corner where a broom could + find entrance. For Pat knew nothing of "brush outs," though + he knew all about clean floors. Every little while he + stopped, swept up his collection into the dust-pan and + carried it to a waste box in the back of the store. Mr. + Farnham watched his movements. "He's business," he commented + to himself. "Neither hurry nor lag." + </p> + <p> + At last Pat was through. One of the clerks came in, and she + stared to see the shelves still wearing their dust curtains. + But Pat was unconcerned. He had never opened a store before, + nor seen one opened. He had been told to sweep out and dust, + and he was obeying orders. That was all he was thinking + about. + </p> + <p> + The sweeping done, Pat waited for the little dust that was + flying to settle. Then he walked to the front end of the + store and began to unhook the dust curtains. Very gingerly he + took hold of them, being careful to disturb them as little as + possible. Mr. Farnham and the girl clerk watched him. Every + other boy had jerked them down and chucked them under the + counter in a jiffy. Out went Pat with them to the rear door, + gave them a vigorous shaking, brought them back, folded them + quickly and neatly, and then, turning to Mr. Farnham said, + "Where will you have 'em, sir?" + </p> + <p> + In silence Mr. Farnham pointed out a place, and then handed + him a feather duster, showing him, at the same time, how to + fleck the dust off the edges of the bolts of goods along the + shelves, and also off the counter. + </p> + <p> + "This thing's no good for the glass show cases, sir. I'd + ought to have a soft cloth. Something to take the dust up + with, sir." + </p> + <p> + The merchant turned to the girl clerk. "Cut him off a square + of cheesecloth, Miss Emlin, please," he said. + </p> + <center> + <img src="images/ill159.png" width="400" height="624" alt= + "[Illustration: The merchant turned to the girl clerk.]"> + </center> + <p> + "Ordinary boy!" exclaimed Mr. Farnham to himself and thinking + of the General. "I should say he wasn't. But cleaning up a + store and selling goods are two different things." + </p> + <p> + It was a very small place that was given to Pat in the store + that day—just the calicoes, ginghams, and muslins. And + Pat was dissatisfied. + </p> + <p> + "'Tisn't much of a chance I've got," he murmured to himself. + "Gingham—that's for aprons, and calico—that's for + dresses, and muslin—that's for a lot of things. Maybe + I'll sell something. But it looks as if I'd be doin' nothin', + that's what it does." + </p> + <p> + He thought of the home folks and how his mother's mind would + be ever upon him during this his first important day. "Maybe + I'm a bit like little Jim—wantin' to do what I can't + do. Maybe geese are my size," and he smiled. "Well, then I'll + tend to my geese and tend 'em good, so I will." + </p> + <p> + He began emptying his calico tables upon the counter. Mr. + Farnham saw him from the desk, and walked that way at once. + "What's the matter, Pat?" he inquired. + </p> + <p> + "Sure I'm just gettin' acquainted with the goods, sir. I was + thinkin' I could sell better, if I knew what I'd got. I'll + put 'em back, sir, when I've looked 'em over." + </p> + <p> + And entirely satisfied with his newest clerk, though Pat did + not suspect it, Mr. Farnham returned to his writing. + </p> + <p> + Pat had often noticed and admired the way in which the dry + goods clerks ran off a length of goods, gathered it in folds, + and held it up before the customer. + </p> + <p> + "If I thought nobody was lookin', I'd try it, so I would," he + said to himself. + </p> + <p> + He glanced around. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention. + Pat tried it, and a funny affair he made of it. Mr. Farnham, + who was only apparently busy, had to exert all his will power + to keep back a smile. For Pat, with the fear of observers + before his eyes, unrolled the web with a softness that was + almost sneaking; he held up the length with a trembling hand + and a reddening cheek; and, putting his head on one side, + regarded his imaginary customer with a shamefaced air that + was most amusing. + </p> + <p> + Pat seemed to feel that he had made himself ridiculous. He + sighed. "There's too much style to it for me yet," he said. + "I'll just have to sell 'em plain goods without any + flourishes. But I'll do it yet, so I will, only I'll practice + it at home." + </p> + <p> + "And what did you be sellin' to-day, Pat dear?" asked his + mother when at half-past nine he entered the kitchen door. + She would not ask him at supper time. She wished to hear the + sum total of the day's sales at once, and she had prepared + her mind for a long list of articles. + </p> + <p> + "Well, mother," answered Pat drawing a long breath, "I sold + two yards and a half of gingham." + </p> + <p> + The widow nodded. But Pat did not go on. + </p> + <p> + "And what else, Pat dear?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothin' else, mother." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished. + </p> + <center> + <img src="images/ill164.png" width="400" height="271" alt= + "[Illustration: Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished.]"> + </center> + <p> + "That's little to be sellin' in a whole day," she observed. + "Didn't you sell no silks and velvets and laces?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm not to sell them, mother." + </p> + <p> + "And why not?" with a mystified air. + </p> + <p> + "Sure and I don't know. I've just the calicoes and the + ginghams and the muslins." + </p> + <p> + "Ah!" breathed the widow. And she sat silent in thought a + while. The small lamp on the pine table burned brightly, and + it lit up Pat's face so that with every glance his mother + cast at him she read there the discouragement he felt. + </p> + <p> + "Pat dear," she began presently, "there's beginnin's in all + things. And the beginnin's is either at the bottom or at wan + ind, depindin' which way you're to go. Roads has their + beginnin's at wan ind and runs on, round corners, maybe, to + the other ind. Permotions begin at the bottom. You moind I + was tellin' you 'twas loikely there was permotions in + stores?" + </p> + <p> + Pat gazed at his mother eagerly. "Do you think so, mother?" + </p> + <p> + "I think so. Else why should they put the last hand in to + sweepin' out and sellin' naught but ginghams and calicoes and + muslins? And will you be tellin' me what the b'y that swept + out before you is sellin'?" continued the little woman, + anxious to prove the truth of her opinion. + </p> + <p> + "Sure and he ain't sellin' nothin'," responded the son. "He + ain't there." + </p> + <p> + "And why not?" interrogated Mrs. O'Callaghan. + </p> + <p> + "I'm told he didn't do his work good." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Callaghan looked grave. "Well," she said, "there's a + lesson for them that needs it. There's gettin' out of stores + as well as gettin' in, so there is. And now, Pat, cheer up. + 'Tis loikely sellin' things is a business that's got to be + larned the same as any other." + </p> + <p> + "Well, but, mother, I know every piece I've got, and the + price of it." + </p> + <p> + "Can you measure 'em off handy and careless loike, so that a + body wonders if you ain't makin' a mistake, and measures 'em + over after you when they gets home, and then foinds it's all + roight and trusts you the nixt toime?" + </p> + <p> + Pat was obliged to admit that he could not. + </p> + <p> + "And can you tie up a bundle quick and slick and make it look + neat?" + </p> + <p> + Again Pat had to acknowledge his deficiency. + </p> + <p> + His mother regarded him with an air of triumph. "I knowed I + could put my finger on the trouble if I thought about it. + You've got it in you to sell, else Mr. Farnham wouldn't have + asked for you. But he wants you for what you can do after a + while more than for what you can do now. Remimber your beds + and your cookin', Pat, and don't be bakin' beans by your own + receipt down there to the store. It's a foine chance you've + got, so 'tis. Maybe you'll be sellin' more to-morrow. And + another thing, do you belave you've got jist as good calicoes + and ginghams and muslins to sell as there is in town?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, mother, I know I have." + </p> + <p> + "Then you've got to make the ladies belave it, too. And it + won't be such a hard job, nayther, if you do your best. If + they don't like wan thing, show 'em another. There's them + among 'em as is hard to plaze, and remimber you don't know + much about the ladies anyhow, havin' had to do only with your + mother and Mrs. Gineral Brady. And there's different sorts of + ladies, too, so there is, as you'll foind. It's a smart man + as can plaze the half of 'em, but you'll come to it in time, + if you try. Your father had a great knack at plazin' people, + so he had, Pat. For folks mostly loikes them that will take + pains for 'em; and your father was always obligin'. And you + are, too, Pat, but kape on at it. Folks ain't a-goin' to buy + nothin', if they can help it, from a clerk that ain't + obligin'. Sellin' goods is pretty much loike doin' housework, + you'll foind, only it's different." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch013"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + "Pat," said his mother the next morning at breakfast, "what's + that book you used to be studyin' that larns you to talk + roight?" + </p> + <p> + "Grammar, mother." + </p> + <p> + "Well, then, your studyin' has done you small good, for you + talk pretty much the way I do mysilf, and niver a bit of that + book did I be larnin' in my loife. It don't make a bit of + difference what you know, if you don't go and <i>do</i> what + you know. But you're not too old to begin over again, Pat, + and practice talkin' roight. Roight talkin' will help you in + the store. You've got in, and that's only half of it, for + you'll not stay in if you don't do your best. And that's why + helpin' a body don't do so much good after all." + </p> + <p> + Pat blushed, and the widow felt a little compassion. She + threw increased confidence into her tone as she went on. "Not + as anybody thinks you won't stay, Pat, for, of course, you'll + do your best. But about your talkin'—you'll need + somebody to watch you close, and somebody that loves you well + enough to tell you your mistakes koindly, and Andy's the b'y + to do it. He's the wan among you all that talks roight, for + he loves his book, do you moind." + </p> + <p> + And now it was Andy's turn to blush, while the widow smiled + upon him. "I hear a many of them grammar folks talk," she + said, "and it's mysilf that sees you talk jist loike 'em, + barrin' the toimes when you don't. And them's not so many, + nayther." + </p> + <p> + At this little Jim scowled scornfully, but of him his mother + took no notice as she looked around with pride upon her sons. + </p> + <p> + "And it's proud I am to be havin' all sorts of b'ys in my + family, barrin' bad wans," she continued. "I'll jist be + tryin' to larn a little better ways of talkin' mysilf, so I + will, not as I think there's much chance for me, and, as + there's no good of waitin' till you get as old as Pat, Jim, + you'll be takin' heed to Andy's talkin'. Andy's the talker as + would have plazed his father, for his father loiked + everything done roight, so he did." + </p> + <p> + It was pleasant to see Andy's sensitive face glow with + delight at being thus publicly commended by that potentate of + the family, his mother. Mrs. O'Callaghan saw it. "And did you + think I wasn't noticin' because I didn't say nothin'?" she + asked him. + </p> + <p> + Then turning to the rest, "B'ys, you mostly niver knows what + folks is a-noticin' by what they says—that is, to your + face—but you sometoimes foinds out by hearin' what + they've been sayin' behoind your back. And, by the same + token, it's mostly bad they says behoind your back." + </p> + <p> + "I don't want to be larnin' from Andy," interrupted Jim. + "He's but two years older than me anyway." + </p> + <p> + The widow eyed him severely. "Well, Jim, is it bigger and + older than Pat you are? Pat's goin' to larn from Andy. And is + it older than your mother you are, that's forty years old? + Sure I'm goin' to larn from Andy." + </p> + <p> + But Jim still appeared rebellious. + </p> + <p> + "Some of these days little Barney and Tommie and Larry will + be set to larn from you. Take care they're not set to larn + what not to do from lookin' at you. 'Tis Andy that's got the + gift ne'er a wan of us has, and he'll show us how to profit + by it, if we has sinse. It's thinkin' I am your father, if he + was here, would not have been above touchin' up his own + talkin' a bit under Andy's teachin'. Your father was for + larnin' all he could, no matter who from, old or young." + </p> + <p> + Now the widow might have talked long to Jim without affecting + him much, but for one thing. She had said that Andy had a + gift that all the rest lacked. He resolved from that moment + that he would talk better than Andy yet, or know why. + </p> + <p> + A pretty big resolve for so young a boy, but Jim could not + endure to yield the supremacy to Andy in anything. Pat and + Mike he was content to look up to, but Andy was too near his + own age, and too small and frail to challenge Jim's respect. + </p> + <p> + That morning Jim said little, but his ears were open. Every + sentence that Andy spoke was carefully listened to, but the + little fellow went to school not much enlightened. He could + see the difference between his speech and Andy's, but he + could not see what made the difference. And ask Andy he + wouldn't. + </p> + <p> + "I'll be askin' the teacher, so I will," he thought. + </p> + <p> + That morning at recess, a small, red-headed, + belligerent-looking boy, with a pair of mischievous blue + eyes, went up to Miss Slocum's desk. But the eyes were not + mischievous now. They were very earnest as they gazed up into + his teacher's face. + </p> + <p> + "Plaze, ma'am, will you be sayin': I'll be larnin' it yet, so + I will?" + </p> + <p> + Miss Slocum was surprised. "What did you say, Jim?" she + asked. + </p> + <p> + "Plaze, ma'am, will you say: I'll be larnin' it yet, so I + will?" + </p> + <p> + Miss Slocum smiled, and obligingly repeated, "I'll be larnin' + it yet, so I will." + </p> + <p> + "No," said Jim. "That's the way I said it. Say it right." + </p> + <p> + "Say it right!" exclaimed Miss Slocum. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, say it like the grammar book." + </p> + <p> + "Oh," said Miss Slocum wonderingly. "I <i>will</i> learn it + yet. Is that what you wanted?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, ma'am. Will you be tellin' me some more when I want to + know it?" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly," responded the gratified teacher, whereat Jim + went away satisfied. He smiled to himself knowingly, as he + caught sight of Andy at a distance on the campus. "I'll not + be askin' him nayther," he said. "I <i>will</i> learn it + yet." + </p> + <p> + As for Pat, he went to the store that same morning a trifle + disconsolate. He was fond of trade, but he knew almost + nothing of dry goods; and here was his mother counseling him + to improve his speech, and holding up to him the warning that + his own inefficiency might lose him his place. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I know how to sweep and dust, anyway," he thought as + he unlocked the store door, went in and took up his broom. As + thoroughly as before he went over everything, but much more + quickly, not having the accumulated shiftlessness of former + boys to contend with. And Mr. Farnham, on his arrival, found + everything spotless. + </p> + <p> + Customers at Pat's department that day found a very silent + clerk, but one eager to oblige. Many times before he went + home for the night did he display every piece of goods in his + charge, and that with such an evident wish to please, that + his sales were considerable. And the widow heard his report + at bedtime with something like satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + "And what did you say to make 'em buy?" she inquired. + </p> + <p> + "Well, mother, I mostly didn't say anything. I didn't know + what to say, and I couldn't say it right, neither, and so I + just watched, and if they so much as turned their eyes on a + piece, I got it out of the pile and showed it to 'em. I just + wished with all my might to sell to 'em, and I sold to 'em." + </p> + <p> + His mother's eyes were fixed on him, and she nodded her head + approvingly. "Sure and if you couldn't do no better, that was + good enough, so 'twas," was her comment. "You'll larn. But + didn't nobody say nothin' to you?" + </p> + <p> + "They did, mother, of course." + </p> + <p> + "And who was they that spoke to you and what about?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, mother, there was old Mrs. Barter, for one. She's + awful stingy. I've seen her more than once in the groceries. + Always a-wantin' everything a little lower, and grumblin' + because the quality wasn't good. Them grocers' clerks mostly + hates her, I believe. And they don't want to wait on her, + none of 'em. 'Twas her, I'm told, washed up two or three of + them wooden butter dishes and took 'em up and wanted to sell + 'em back to them she got her butter from." + </p> + <p> + "Ah!" said Mrs. O'Callaghan, with her eyes sympathetically + upon her son. + </p> + <p> + "And she was to buy of you to-day, was she?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, mother." + </p> + <p> + "And did she buy anything?" + </p> + <p> + "She did." + </p> + <p> + "What was it?" + </p> + <p> + "A calico dress." + </p> + <p> + "And how come she to do it?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know. She begun by lookin' everything over and + runnin' everything down. And at last she took hold of a + piece, and says she, 'Come, young man, I've seen you a-buyin' + more than once. Can you tell me this is a good piece that + won't fade?' 'I can, ma'am,' says I. 'You won't find no + better in town.' + </p> + <p> + "'Ah! but you're sellin',' says she. 'Would you tell your + mother the same?' And she looked at me sharp. + </p> + <p> + "'I would, ma'am,' says I. + </p> + <p> + "'Then I'll take it,' says she. 'I've not watched you for + nothin'.'" + </p> + <p> + "And then what?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan eagerly. This, in her + opinion, was a triumph for Pat. + </p> + <p> + "Why, nothin', mother, only I wrapped it up and give it to + her, and I says, Come again, ma'am,' and she says, 'I will, + young man, you may depend.'" + </p> + <p> + The little woman regarded him proudly. But all she said was: + "When you're doin' well, Pat, the thing is to see if you + can't do better. You had others a-buyin' of you to-day, I + hope?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, mother." + </p> + <p> + "'Tis too late to hear about it to-night, for 'tis good sleep + that sharpens the wits. And the broightest wits will bear + that koind of sharpening', so they will. I wouldn't be + knowin' what to do half the time if it wasn't for sleepin' + good of nights. And, by the same token, if any of them + high-steppin' clerks comes around with a cigar and a-wantin' + you to go here and yon of nights, jist remimber that your + wits is your stock in trade, and Mr. Farnham's not wantin' + dull wans about him, nayther." + </p> + <p> + Thus having headed off any designs that might be had upon + Pat, his mother went to sharpen her own wits for whatever the + morrow might have in store for her. + </p> + <p> + And now a change began to come over Jim. He left his younger + brothers in unhectored peace. He had not much to say, but + ever he watched Andy from the corner of a jealous eye, and + listened for him to speak. All his pugnacity was engaged in + what seemed to be a profitless struggle with the speech of + the grammar. "I <i>will</i> larn it yet," he repeated over + and over. And even while the words were in his mouth, if he + had had less obstinacy in his make-up, he would have yielded + himself to despair. But a good thing happened to him. Miss + Slocum, not knowing his ignoble motive, and seeing a very + earnest child striving to improve himself, set about helping + him in every possible way. + </p> + <p> + One day she called him to her. "Jim," she said, "asking me + questions is slow work. Suppose I correct you every time you + make a mistake?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, ma'am," answered Jim vaguely, not knowing the meaning + of <i>correct</i>. + </p> + <p> + "You don't understand me?" + </p> + <p> + "No, ma'am." + </p> + <p> + "<i>Correct</i> means to make right. Suppose I set you right + whenever you go wrong?" + </p> + <p> + "That's it!" cried Jim enthusiastically. "That's it! I can + larn that way sure." + </p> + <p> + "<i>Learn</i>, not <i>larn</i>, Jim." + </p> + <p> + Jim looked at her. "'Tis learn and not larn I'll be sayin'," + he declared. + </p> + <p> + "Not <i>I'll be sayin'</i>," corrected Miss Slocum, "but + <i>I'll say</i>." + </p> + <p> + "<i>Learn</i>, not <i>larn</i>, and <i>I'll say</i>, not + <i>I'll be sayin'</i>," amended the obedient Jim, and then he + sped away. + </p> + <p> + And that night he did what never a child of Mrs. + O'Callaghan's had done before. The family were at supper. + Pat, paying good heed to his tongue, was manifestly + improving, and the widow was congratulating him in her own + way. + </p> + <p> + "What did I be sayin' to you, Pat dear? Did I be tellin' you + you wasn't too old to larn? And I'll be sayin' it again, so I + will." + </p> + <p> + "<i>Larn's</i> not the right of it," interrupted Jim. + "<i>Learn's</i> what you ought to be sayin'. <i>I'll be + sayin'</i> ain't right, nayther," he continued. "It's <i>I'll + say</i>," and he looked very important. + </p> + <p> + Pat and Andy regarded him in displeased astonishment, but the + widow could take care of her own. + </p> + <p> + "And it's glad I am to see that you know so much, Jim," she + said quietly. "What more do you know? Let's hear it." + </p> + <p> + Thus brought to book Jim grew confused. He blushed and + stammered under the unfavorable regard of his mother and two + older brothers, and finally confessed that he knew nothing + more. At which Barney and Tommie nudged each other. They did + not understand what all the talk was about, but they could + see that Jim was very red in the face, and not at all at his + ease, and their beforetime hectored little selves rejoiced. + </p> + <p> + "B'ys," said the mother, "I told you if your blessed father + was here he'd not be above learning from any one, old or + young. And he wouldn't, nayther. And sure he said <i>larn</i> + himsilf. And from Jim here he'd learn better than that, and + he'd learn, too, how them that knows very little is the + quickest to make a show of it. But kape on, Jim. It's glad I + am you know the difference betwane <i>larn</i> and + <i>learn</i>, and sure the only difference is that wan's + wrong and the other's roight." + </p> + <p> + Jim had hoped to quite extinguish Andy by his corrections, + and he hardly knew where he was when his mother finished; and + he was still more abroad when Pat took him out after supper + and vigorously informed him that bad manners were far worse + than bad grammar. + </p> + <p> + "Well, well," thought the widow that evening as she waited + alone for Pat, "Jim do be gettin' ahead of me, that he do. + He's loike to have the consate, so he is, take him down as a + body will. But there's wan good thing about it. While he's + studyin' to beat us all on the talkin' he's lettin' the + little b'ys alone famous. He didn't never do much to 'em, but + he jist riled 'em completely, so he did, and made 'em cross + at iverybody." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch014"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + A month went along very quietly and, following that, another + month. The weeds that had flourished along the sides of the + ditches were all dead. No more did the squawking O'Callaghan + geese delight themselves among them. The kitchen stove had + long been brought back into the shanty, and Barney and + Tommie, sitting close behind it on their short evenings that + ended in bedtime at half-past seven o'clock, had only the + remembrance of their labors. But that memory sweetened the + prospect of savory dinners to come, for even Barney and + Tommie liked to feel that they were of some importance in the + family world. Often had their mother praised them for their + care of the geese, and once she had bought for them a whole + nickel's worth of candy and had bestowed this great treat + with the words, "And how could I be havin' geese only for the + little b'ys? You'll jist be givin' Larry a bit, for sure and + he'll be past four nixt summer, and helpin' you loike + anything." + </p> + <p> + The candy, like the summer, was only a memory now, but, + without putting their hope into words, there lingered in the + minds of the two an anticipation of more candy to come. + </p> + <p> + As for Larry, he lived from day to day and took whatever came + his way cheerfully, which he might well do, since he was a + general pet wherever he was known. + </p> + <p> + But now a new difficulty confronted the widow. Snowtime had + come. How was she to get Larry along to her wash places? She + was sitting late one Friday afternoon thinking about it. All + day the snow had been falling, and many times, in the early + dusk, had Jim been out to measure the depth with his legs. + And each time he returned he had worn a more gratified smile. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Jim," said his mother finally, "you do be grinnin' + foine ivery toime you come in, and a lot of wet you're + bringin' with you, too, a-stampin' the snow off on the floor. + You'll remimber that toimes are changed. Wanst it was old men + as had the rheumatism, but now b'ys can have it, to say + nothin' of colds and sore throats and doctors' bills. You'll + stay in now. The snow can deepen without you, I'm thinkin'." + </p> + <p> + Thus admonished, Jim went with a bad grace to wash his hands, + and then to set the table for supper. + </p> + <p> + Presently in came Pat. + </p> + <p> + "Where's the clothes basket, mother?" he inquired. "I'll be + bringing in the clothes from the line for you." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Callaghan handed him the basket with a smile, and out + went Mr. Farnham's newest clerk to the summer kitchen, under + whose roof the line was stretched in parallel lengths. + </p> + <p> + "I couldn't be dryin' the clothes in the house with no place + to put 'em, but the new kitchen's the thing, so 'tis," the + mother had said. "Clothes will dry there famous, 'specially + when it's rainin' or snowin'. Pat and Moike did a good thing + when they made it. I've heard tell of them as has dryin' + rooms for winter, and 'tis mysilf has wan of 'em." + </p> + <p> + These were the words that had caused Pat to smile with + pleasure, and had stirred Mike's heart with determination to + do yet more for his mother. And that same evening the widow's + sturdy second son came to the shanty, and behind him on the + snow bumped and slid his newest handiwork—a sled for + Larry to ride on. + </p> + <p> + "And what have you got there?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan when he + dragged it into the house. + </p> + <p> + "A sled!" cried Barney and Tommie together, pausing on their + bedward way, and opening wide their sleepy eyes. + </p> + <p> + "And 'twas mysilf was wonderin' how to get Larry along with + me!" exclaimed the mother when Mike had explained the object + of the sled. "What's the good of me wonderin' when I've got + Moike for my b'y? 'Twas his father as would have made a sled + jist loike it, I'm thinkin'. But Moike," as she saw the light + of affection in his eyes, "you'll be spoilin' me. Soon I'll + not be wonderin' any more, but I'll be sayin', 'Moike will + fix it some way.'" + </p> + <p> + "Will you, mother?" cried the boy. "Will you promise me + that?" + </p> + <p> + "Moike! Moike!" said the widow, touched by his eager look and + tone, "what a b'y you are for questions! Would I be layin' + all my burdens on you, when it's six brothers you've got? + 'Twouldn't be fair to you. But to know you're so ready and + willin' loightens my ivery load, and it's a comfort you are + to me. Your father was always for makin' easy toimes for + other people, and you're loike him, Moike. And now I've + something else to be talkin' of. Will you be havin' the goose + for Gineral and Mrs. Brady to-morrow?" + </p> + <p> + "I will, mother," answered Mike respectfully. + </p> + <p> + "Then, Moike, when you get ready to go back, you'll foind the + foinest wan of the lot all by himsilf in a box Pat brought + from the store. Mr. Farnham give it to him, though he mostly + sells 'em. And I've larned that goose to slape in it, so I + have, and an awful job it was, too. Geese and pigs now, + Moike, are slow to larn. But he knows his place at last, so + he does, and you'll foind him in it." + </p> + <p> + Then catching sight, around the corner of the table, of the + enraptured two on the kitchen floor busy over the new family + treasure, she cried: "Now, Barney and Tommie, to bed with + you, and dream of havin' the sled Saturdays, for that's what + you shall have. 'Tis Moike makes the treats for us all." + </p> + <hr> + <p> + That evening at half-past nine there was a knock on the + sitting-room door. + </p> + <p> + "Come!" called the General. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and in walked Mike with the sleek goose under + his arm. + </p> + <p> + "My mother's sending you a goose, Mrs. Brady," he said with a + bow. + </p> + <p> + The Bradys were already much attached to Mike; and the + General had been heard to say that the very name of + O'Callaghan seemed to be a certificate of worthiness. So the + goose was made much of and the next time Mike went home he + carried a bunch of roses from Mrs. Brady. + </p> + <p> + "And sure 'tis roses as are the gift of a lady!" cried Mrs. + O'Callaghan, receiving the flowers with an air of pride. + "There's some as would have took the goose as their due and + have made you feel loike dirt under their feet while they was + takin' it. But the General and Mrs. Brady are quite another + sort. And it's proud I am that they et the goose and found it + good. Though it wouldn't have been good nayther if you hadn't + cooked it good, Moike. There's them as can cook 'most + anything and have it good, jist as there's them as can spoil + the best. And now, Moike, I've news for you. But first do you + notice how clean Jim kapes things? Him and Andy makes a foine + team, so they do." + </p> + <p> + Mike looked about him with a critical air that increased in + mock severity as he saw little Jim rapidly donning his + regalia of importance. "See a speck of dust if you can," + spoke Jim's look. And then Mike was lavish with his praise. + </p> + <p> + "You don't kape Mrs. Brady's things no cleaner, do you, + Moike?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't, mother, for I can't," was the answer. Hearing + which, Jim became pompous, and the widow judged that she + might tell her news without unduly rousing up his jealousy. + </p> + <p> + "Well, then, Moike, you'll niver be guessin' the news, only + maybe you've heard it already, for 'tis school news. Andy's + to be set ahead of his class into the nixt higher wan. It's + proud I am, for ivery family needs a scholar, so it does." + </p> + <p> + Mike turned upon Andy a look of affectionate interest. "I + hadn't heard your news, mother, but it's good news, and I'm + glad to hear it," he said heartily. + </p> + <p> + "I knowed you would be glad, Moike, for 'tis yoursilf as sees + that when your brother gets up you get up with him. It's bad + when wan brother thinks to be gettin' ahead of all the rest." + And she looked gravely at Jim. "Brothers are made each wan to + do his part, and be glad when wan and another gets up." + </p> + <p> + But little Jim appeared discontented. All this praise of Andy + quite took the edge off what he himself had received. His + mother sighed. + </p> + <p> + "But I'll not give him up yet," she thought after a moment. + "No, I'll not give him up, for he's Tim's b'y, though most + unlike him. I do moind hearin' wanst that Tim had a brother + of that sort. Jim's loike him, no doubt, and he come to a bad + end, so he did, a-gettin' to be an agitator, as they calls + 'em. And sure what's an agitator but wan that's sour at + iverybody's good luck but his own, and his own good luck + turnin' out bad on account of laziness and consate? I'm + needin' more wisdom than I've got when I'd be dealin' with + Jim." + </p> + <p> + While the mother sat silent her sons were talking together in + low tones. Andy and Jim told of the rabbits they had trapped + in the hazel brush, and how they had eaten some and some they + had sold in the stores. And Mike, in his turn, told them how + many rabbits there were in the Brady neighborhood, and how + nobody seemed to wish to have them disturbed. + </p> + <p> + "What are they good for, if you can't catch 'em?" asked Jim, + who could never catch enough. + </p> + <p> + "Good to look pretty hopping about, I guess," responded Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Huh!" exclaimed Jim, who, like many a one older than he, had + small respect for opinions that clashed with his own. + </p> + <p> + "He'll be turnin' to be an agitator sure, only maybe I can + head him off," thought the mother, who had been idly + listening. + </p> + <p> + "Jim," she said, "'twas your father as was iver for hearin' + both sides of iverything. If there's them that thinks rabbits + looks pretty jumpin' around, why, no doubt they do. 'Tisn't + iverybody that's trappin', you'll moind. If you was a horse + now, you'd be called strong in the mouth, and you'd need a + firm hand on the lines. And if you'd been brung up among + horses, as your father was, you'd know as them obstinate wans + as wants the bits in their teeth are the wans as gets the + beatin's. You're no horse, but things will go crossways to + you all your loife if you don't do different. When there's + nayther roight nor wrong in the matter let iverybody have + their own way." + </p> + <p> + And then little Jim became downright sulky. + </p><img src="images/ill193.png" width="150" height="373" align= + "right" hspace="20" alt= + "[Illustration: Little Jim became downright sulky.]"> + <p> + "Rabbits is for trappin'," he said stubbornly. + </p> + <p> + "Well, well," thought the widow, "I'll have to be waitin' a + bit. But I'll be makin' something out of Jim yet." + </p> + <p> + Then she turned to Mike. "And how are you comin' on at the + Gineral's?" she inquired. "It's hopin' I am you're watchin' + him close and larnin' to be loike him." + </p> + <p> + "I'm trying, mother," was the modest answer. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Callaghan nodded approvingly. "A pattern's a good + thing for us all to go by," she said. "Your father's gone, + and you can only be loike him by heedin' to what I'm tellin' + you about him. But the Gineral you can see for yoursilves. If + you can get to be loike your father and the Gineral both, + it's proud I'll be of you. And I will say that you're + a-comin' to it, Moike. + </p> + <p> + "And there's another thing. The little b'ys has their chance, + too. And it's because Andy here takes as natural to bein' a + gintleman as thim geese takes to squawkin'. Whether it's + loikin' his book or what it is, he's the wan to have handy + for the little b'ys to pattern by. As far as he's gone he + knows, and he can't be beat in knowin' how to treat other + folks nice. And he's that quiet about what he knows that you + wouldn't think he knows anything only for seein' him act it + out." + </p> + <p> + And now little Jim was completely miserable. Constantly + craving praise was little Jim, and the loss of it was torture + to him. The widow glanced at him out of the corner of her + eye. She saw it was time to relieve him. + </p> + <p> + "But there's wan thing Jim's got that no other wan of my b'ys + has," she continued. + </p> + <p> + Jim pricked up his ears. + </p> + <p> + "He's the born foighter, is Jim. If he was big now, and there + was a war to come, he'd be a soldier, I'm thinkin'. He's for + foightin' iverything, even the words of a body's mouth." + </p> + <p> + This praise might be equivocal, but little Jim did not so + understand it, and his pride returned. + </p> + <p> + His mother observed it. "But what you need, Jim," she went + on, "is to be takin' a tuck in yoursilf. Look at the Gineral. + Does he go foightin' in toimes of peace? That he don't. Will + you look at the Gineral, Jim?" + </p> + <p> + Now Pat and Mike had been instructed to look at the General + as their pattern. This appeal was placing Jim alongside of + his two big brothers. + </p> + <p> + "Will you look at the Gineral, Jim?" repeated Mrs. + O'Callaghan. + </p> + <p> + "I will," said Jim. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch015"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + Jim was enterprising. Far more enterprising than anybody gave + him credit for. He had been set to copy the General, and that + night as he lay down to sleep he resolved to outdo Pat and + Mike. The little boys were insignificant in his eyes as he + thought of what was before him, and even Andy offered small + food for jealousy. To excel the two big boys was worth trying + for. + </p> + <p> + Now the General was more familiar to Jim's ears than to his + eyes. He at once resolved to remedy that. + </p> + <p> + "I'll have to be followin' him around and be seein' how he + does, so I will," he told himself. "And I'll have to be + gettin' my work done quick to be doin' it." + </p> + <p> + Accordingly he hustled through the dishwashing at a great + rate the next morning, for his mother had lately decided that + he might wash the dishes as well as wipe them. The dusting, + usually carefully done, was a whisk here and a wipe there in + the most exposed places. By such means did he obtain a half + hour of extra time, and off he went up the railroad track on + his way to General Brady's. He soon came to the point where + he must leave the track for the street, and, the street being + comparatively unused and so without a pavement, he was + compelled to wade the snow. Into it with his short legs he + plunged, only anxious to reach the house before the General + started down town. And he was almost out of breath when he + came to the corner and turned south on the cleared sidewalk. + On he hurried and around to the kitchen door. + </p> + <p> + "Is he gone?" he inquired, poking his head into the room + where his brother was busily washing dishes. + </p> + <p> + Mike stared. The door had opened so softly, the words were so + breathless, and the little boy so very red in the face. + "Who?" he asked in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + "The Gineral," said Jim impatiently. + </p> + <p> + "Just going," returned Mike. And at the words Jim was out + with the door shut behind him. + </p> + <p> + "What's got into little Jim?" thought Mike. Out of the yard + flew Jim, and took on an air of indifferent loitering as he + waited. Yes, there came the General. How broad his shoulders + were! How straight his back! How firm his tread! At sight of + all this little Jim squared himself and, a half block in the + rear, walked imitatively down the street. It was all very + well for his mother to say that Jim was a born fighter. But + she had entirely overlooked the fact that he was a born mimic + also. + </p> + <p> + Here and there a smiling girl ran to the window to gaze after + the two as they passed—the stately old General and his + ridiculous little copy. But it was when they neared the + square that the guffaws began. The General, being slightly + deaf, did not notice, and little Jim was so intent on + following copy that he paid no attention. Thus they went the + entire length of the east side of the square, and then along + the south side until, at the southwest corner, the old + soldier disappeared in the doorway of the bank. By this time + little Jim's shoulders were aching from the restraint put + upon them, for Jim was not naturally erect. And his long walk + at what was, to him, an usually slow pace had made his nose + blue with cold. But instead of running off to get warm he + pressed close against the big window and peered in at his + pattern. He knew his back and his walk now, and he wanted to + see his face. + </p> + <p> + Presently one of the amused spectators stepped into the bank + and spoke a few words to its president, and the General + turned to look at the little fellow. + </p> + <p> + "Who is he?" he asked. + </p> + <p> + "One of your O'Callaghans, General," was the laughing answer. + </p> + <p> + The General flushed. Then he beckoned to Jim, who immediately + came in. + </p> + <p> + "Go back to the stove and get warm, my boy," he said. "You + look cold." + </p> + <p> + Jim obeyed and presently the General's friend went out. + </p> + <p> + "Now, my boy," said the General, walking back to the stove, + "what did you mean by following me?" + </p> + <p> + Little Jim's blue eyes looked up into the blue eyes of the + old soldier. "Our eyes is the same color," he thought. And + then he answered: "My mother told me to be makin' a pattern + out of you. She told the same to Pat and Mike, too, and I'm + goin' to do it better than they do, see if I don't. Why, they + don't walk fine and straight like you do. But I can do it. I + larned this morning." + </p> + <p> + The General laughed. "And what were you peering in at the + window for?" + </p> + <p> + "Sure and I wanted to be watchin' your face, so I did. 'Tis + my mother as says I'm the born fighter, and she says, 'Look + at the General. Does he be goin' round fightin' in times of + peace? That he don't.' And she wants me to be like you and + I'm goin' to be." + </p> + <p> + "What's your name?" + </p> + <p> + "Jim." + </p> + <p> + "Well, Jim, I don't think your mother meant that you should + follow me through the street and try to walk like me. And you + must not do so any more." + </p> + <p> + "But I knows how now, sir," objected Jim, who was loth to + discard his new accomplishment. + </p> + <p> + "Nevertheless you must not follow me about and imitate my + movements any more," forbade the General. + </p> + <p> + "And how am I to be like you then, if you won't let me do the + way you do?" + </p> + <p> + For a moment the General seemed perplexed. Then he opened the + door and motioned Jim out. "Ask your mother," he said. + </p> + <p> + "I won't," declared little Jim obstinately, when he found + himself in the street. "I won't ask her." + </p> + <p> + But he did. The coasting was excellent on a certain hill, and + the hill was only a short distance northwest of the + O'Callaghan home. + </p> + <p> + "'Twill do Andy good to have a bit of a change and eat wanst + of a supper he ain't cooked," the widow had said. And so it + was that she was alone, save for Larry, when Jim came in + after school. Presently the whole affair of the morning came + out, and Mrs. O'Callaghan listened with horrified ears. + </p> + <p> + "And do you know how that looked to them that seen you?" she + asked severely. "Sure and it looked loike you was makin' fun + of the Gineral." + </p> + <p> + "But I wasn't," protested little Jim. + </p> + <p> + "Sure and don't I know that? Would a b'y of mine be makin' + fun of Gineral Brady?" + </p> + <p> + "He said I wasn't to do it no more," confided little Jim + humbly. + </p> + <p> + The widow nodded approbation. "And what did you say then?" + she asked. + </p> + <p> + "I says to him, 'How can I get to be like you, sir, when you + won't let me do the way you do?'" + </p> + <p> + "And then?" + </p> + <p> + "Then he opened the door, and his hand said, 'Go outside.' + And just as I was goin' he said, 'Ask your mother.'" + </p> + <p> + "'Twasn't for naught he got made a gineral," commented Mrs. + O'Callaghan. "'Tis himsilf as knows a b'y's mother is the + wan. For who is it else can see how he's so full of brag he's + loike to boorst and a-wantin' to do big things till he can't + dust good nor wash the plates clean? Dust on the father's + chair, down on the rockers where you thought it wouldn't + show, and egg on the plates, and them piled so slick wan on + top of the other and lookin' as innocent as if they felt + thimsilves quite clean. Ah, Jim! Jim!" + </p> + <p> + The widow's fourth son blushed. He cast a hasty glance over + the room and was relieved to see that Larry, his mother's + only other auditor, was playing busily in a corner. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Callaghan went on. She had Jim all to herself and she + meant to improve her chance. + </p> + <p> + "You haint got the hang of this ambition business, Jim. + That's the trouble. You're always tryin' to do some big thing + and beat somebody. 'Tis well you should know the Lord niver + puts little b'ys and big jobs together. He gives the little + b'ys a chance at the little jobs, and them as does the little + jobs faithful gets to be the men that does the big jobs + easy." + </p> + <p> + Jim now sought to turn the conversation, the doctrine of + faithfulness in small things not being at all to his taste. + "And will <i>I</i> be havin' a bank, too, like the Gineral?" + he asked. + </p> + <p> + His mother looked at him. "There you go again, Jim," she + said. "And sure how can I tell whether you'll have a bank or + not? 'Tisn't all the good foightin' men as has banks. But you + might try for it. And if you've got a bank in your eye, you'd + best pay particular attintion to your dustin' and your + dishwashin'. Them's your two first steps." + </p> + <p> + Little Jim pondered as well as he was able. It seemed to him + that the first steps to everything in life, according to his + mother, were dusting and dishwashing. His face was downcast + and he put the dishes on the table in an absent-minded way. + </p> + <p> + "What are you thinkin' about, Jim?" asked his mother after + many a sidelong glance at him. "Cheer up!" + </p> + <p> + "Ain't there no other first steps?" he asked gloomily. + </p> + <p> + "Not for you, Jim. And it's lucky you are that you don't + loike the dustin' and the dishwashin'." + </p> + <p> + Jim was evidently mystified. + </p> + <p> + "Because, do you see, Jim, iverybody has got to larn sooner + or later to do things they don't loike to do. You've begun in + toime, so you have, and, if you kape on, you can get a lot of + it done before you come to the place where you can do what + you loike, such as kapin' a bank and that. But it's no + business. The Gineral's business was foightin', you know. He + kapes a bank jist to pass the toime." + </p> + <p> + Little Jim's eyes widened. Here was a new outlook for him. + </p> + <p> + "But you must do 'em good," admonished his mother. "There's + nothin' but bad luck goes with poor dustin' and dirty + dishwashin'. And spakin' of luck, it's lucky you are I caught + you at it the first toime you done 'em bad, for, do you see, + I'll be lookin' out for you now for a good bit jist to be + seein' that you're a b'y that can be trusted. It's hopin' I + am you'll be loike your father, for 'twas your father as + could be trusted ivery toime. And now I've a plan for you. + We'll be havin' Moike to show you how they lays the table at + the Gineral's. 'Twill be a foine thing for you to larn, and + 'twill surprise Pat, and be a good thing for the little b'ys + to see. Them little b'ys don't get the chance to see much + otherwheres, and they'll have to be larnin' their manners to + home, so they will. Pat and Moike with the good manners about + eatin' they've larned at the Gineral's, and the little b'ys + without a manner to their back! Sure and 'twill be a lesson + to 'em to see the table when you've larned to set it roight." + </p><img src="images/ill208.png" width="250" height="411" align="left" + hspace="20" alt="[Illustration: In they came at that moment]"> + <p> + Jim brightened at once. He had had so much lesson himself + to-day that it was a great pleasure to think of his younger + brothers being instructed in their turn. In they came at that + moment, their red little hands tingling with cold. But they + were hilarious, for kind-hearted Andy had taken them to the + hill, and over and over they had whizzed down its long length + with him. At another time Jim might have been jealous; but + to-night he regarded them from the vantage ground of his + superior information concerning them. They were to be + instructed. And Jim knew it, if they did not. He placed the + chairs with dignity, and hoped instruction might prove as + unwelcome to Barney and Tommie as it was to him. And as they + jounced down into their seats the moment the steaming supper + was put upon the table, and gazed at it with eager, hungry + eyes, and even gave a sniff or two, he felt that here was a + field for improvement, indeed. And he smiled. Not that Jim + was a bad boy, or a malicious one, but when Barney and Tommie + were wrong, it was the thing that they should be set right, + of course. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch016"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + Pat had now been in Mr. Farnham's employ two months and more, + and never had his faithfulness slackened. He had caught the + knack of measuring goods easily and tying up packages neatly. + He could run off a length of calico and display it to any + customer that came to him, and what most endeared him to Mr. + Farnham was that he could sell. + </p> + <p> + "Best clerk I ever had," the merchant told himself. But he + did not advance this "best clerk" although Pat longed and + hoped for promotion. Upon every opportunity he studied dress + goods at the front end of the store, and carpets and cloaks + at the rear. And day by day he went on patiently selling + prints, ginghams and muslins. + </p> + <p> + "'Tis the best things as are longest a-comin' sometimes," + said his mother encouragingly. "Are you sellin' what you've + got as well as you know how?" + </p> + <p> + "I am, mother." + </p> + <p> + "Well, if you are, be sure Mr. Farnham knows it, and, by the + same token, he'd be knowin' it if you was gapin' in the + customers' faces or hummin' or whistlin' soft like while you + waited on 'em. Mr. Wall had a clerk wanst that done that way. + I've seen him. And, by the same token, he ain't got him now. + Ladies don't care for hummin' and whistlin' when they're + buyin' goods." + </p> + <p> + And now trade was growing heavier. The other clerks were + overburdened, while Pat in his humble place had little to do. + Suddenly there came a call for him at the dress counter. A + lady had come in and both the other clerks were busy. She was + one who continually lamented in an injured tone of voice that + she lived in so small a town as Wennott, and she rarely made + purchases there. Her name was Mrs. Pomeroy. + </p> + <p> + "Let us see if Pat sells her anything. It will be a wonder if + he does," thought Mr. Farnham. + </p> + <p> + Languidly Mrs. Pomeroy examined this and that in an + uninterested way, and all the time Pat was paying the closest + attention, trying to discover just what she wanted. His heart + was beating fast. If only he could make a sale, what might it + not mean to him? + </p> + <p> + "Here is a pattern for a street dress, madam." Pat's voice + was musical, and his manner most respectful. Mrs. Pomeroy + felt interested and attracted at once. She looked on while + Pat drew out the dress pattern from its box, displaying to + advantage its soft coloring and fine texture. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pomeroy put her head on one side and regarded it through + half-shut eyes. + </p> + <p> + "The only pattern of exactly its sort and color," said the + persuasive voice of Pat. He had learned from the other clerks + that this was a great recommendation to a piece of goods and + helped to sell it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pomeroy reflected. + </p> + <p> + She asked the price and reflected again, and all the time she + noticed that Pat's interest was real and not simulated; that + he was doing his best to please her. She liked the goods, but + not better than a pattern she had seen at Wall's. But Wall's + clerks were inattentive and indifferent. They had an air that + said "There are the goods. Buy 'em or leave 'em. 'Tis nothing + to us." + </p> + <p> + She was thinking of this as well as of the dress goods before + her and finally she said, "You may wrap the pattern up. I + will take it." + </p> + <p> + Then did Pat's eyes dance with delight, and he thought of his + mother. But it was only a glancing thought, for in a second + he was saying: "Mr. Farnham has gloves to match." + </p> + <p> + "I will look at them." + </p> + <p> + To look was to buy when Pat was salesman, and, in a few + moments, the happiest clerk in the store, Pat walked modestly + back to his own place. + </p> + <p> + "Well done, Pat!" exclaimed Mr. Farnham, going up to him. "I + wish you would keep an eye on the dress counter, and, + whenever another clerk is needed, attend there." + </p> + <p> + "I will, sir," answered Pat gratefully. + </p> + <p> + Three times more was Pat needed before the day closed, and + every time he made a good sale. + </p> + <p> + As usual Mrs. O'Callaghan was waiting alone for Pat. She was + extremely tired and almost despondent. For to earn what she + could and keep her sons up to the mark she had set for them + was a great strain on her. And she missed her husband. More + and more she missed him. "Ah, Tim!" she cried, "'twas a great + thing you done for me when you taught our b'ys that moind me + they must and that without questions about it. Only for that + I couldn't do much with 'em. And without you it's hard + enough, so it is. I hain't never laid finger on wan of 'em, + and I won't nayther, for sure they're not beasts but b'ys. I + mistrust my hardest toimes are ahead of me. Pat and Moike and + Andy don't trouble me none. Sure and a bloind man can see + them three is all roight. But Jim and Barney and Tommie and + Larry now—how can I be tellin' what's comin' of them? + And I can't set the big b'ys over 'em only to take care of + 'em loike, for sure b'ys as are worth anything won't be + bossed by their big brothers. They sees the unfairness of + it." + </p> + <p> + And then intruding upon her thoughts came a boy's merry + whistle; a whistle that told of a heart where happiness was + bubbling up and overflowing, and the whistling came nearer + and nearer. + </p> + <p> + "Whativer do be makin' Pat come home with a tune loike that?" + she asked. And she half rose as Pat's hand opened the door + and the tall young fellow stepped in. The tiny lamp was very + bright, and in its light the boy's eyes were brilliant. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Pat!" exclaimed his mother. "The lamp's but a poor + match for your eyes to-night. You've got news for me. What is + it?" + </p> + <p> + And Pat told with an eager tongue how, at last, he had a + chance to attend at the dress counter when the two regular + clerks there were busy and another one was needed. + </p> + <p> + The widow was silent a moment. It was not quite what she had + hoped to hear, knowing her Pat as she did, but she was + determined to keep her son's courage up. So she said, "Well, + then, if you've got so far, it rests with yoursilf to go + farther. 'Tis a blessed thing that there are such a many + things in this world a-restin' on a body's lone silf. But + there's them that niver foinds it out, and that goes about + layin' their own blame here, there and yon." + </p> + <p> + Pat's elation lasted him overnight and even well on into the + next day. And that day was more wonderful than the one before + it. For, about the middle of the forenoon, General Brady came + into the store and walked back to Mr. Farnham's desk, giving + Pat a smile and a bow as he passed him, and receiving in + return an affectionate look. The one evening a week with the + General had not served to diminish the boy's fondness for + him, but it had served to make Pat a greater favorite than + ever with the old soldier. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Farnham," said the General, after a few pleasant words + had been exchanged, "Mr. Wall offers thirty dollars a month + for Pat. Do you wish to keep him?" + </p> + <p> + "I suppose I shall have to come up to Wall's offer if I do?" + </p> + <p> + "Exactly," was the response with a smile. The General was + delighted with Pat's success, and he could not help showing + it. + </p> + <p> + "Pat is getting himself a reputation among your customers," + he remarked pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + "Frankly, General," replied Mr. Farnham, "he's the best boy I + ever had. He shall have his thirty dollars." + </p> + <p> + If the whistle was merry the night before, it was mad with + joy on that Wednesday evening. + </p> + <p> + "Pat! Pat! what ails you?" cried his mother as the boy came + bounding in with a shout and a toss of his cap. "You'll be + wakin' your brothers." + </p> + <p> + "I'd like to wake 'em, mother," was the jubilant answer. + "I've got news that's worth wakin' 'em for." + </p> + <p> + "And what is it?" was the eager question. + </p> + <p> + "Well, mother, then it's this. I'm to have thirty dollars a + month and to stay at the dress counter." + </p> + <p> + "Pat! Pat!" exclaimed the little woman, excited in her turn. + "It's forty years old I am, and sure and I know better than + to be wakin' b'ys out of their slape jist to be hearin' a bit + of news. But I'm goin' to wake 'em. They shall be knowin' + this night what comes to a b'y that does his best when he's + got Gineral Brady to back him. And would Gineral Brady back + you if you didn't desarve it? That he wouldn't. I ain't heard + nothin' of his backin' up street loafers nor any sort of + shiftless b'ys." + </p> + <p> + The boys were wakened, and a difficult task it was. But when, + at last, they were all thoroughly roused and were made to + understand that there was no fire, nor any uproar in the + streets, nor a train off the track, they stared about them + wonderingly. And when they had been told of Pat's good + fortune, "Is <i>that</i> all?" asked jealous little Jim, and + down went his red head on the pillow, and shut went his eyes + in a twinkling. Barney and Tommie, who knew not the value of + money, gazed solemnly at their mother and Pat, and then into + each other's eyes and composedly laid themselves down to + renewed slumber. And Larry howled till the windows rattled, + for Larry was a strong child for his years, and never before + had he been waked up in the night. But Andy sat up in bed and + clasped his brother's hand in both his while his face showed + his delight. + </p> + <p> + And then something happened to Andy. His mother, disgusted at + the conduct of the little boys, put her arm around his neck + and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + "It's a jewel you are, Andy," she said, "with good + understandin' in you. You'll be wakin' up Pat in the noight + some day." + </p> + <p> + "Huh!" thought jealous little Jim, who was only feigning + sleep. + </p> + <p> + "Now, mother," said Pat when the tiny lamp stood once more on + the kitchen table, and the two sat beside the stove, "will + you give up two of your wash places?" + </p> + <p> + "Not I, Pat dear. With six of us, not countin' you and not + countin' Moike, who cares for himsilf, we need all the money + we can honestly get." + </p> + <p> + "Only one, then, mother; only one. My good luck is no comfort + to me if I can't think of your getting a day's rest every + week out of it." + </p> + <p> + The widow regarded him earnestly. She saw how her refusal + would pain him and she yielded. "Well, then," she said, "wan + place, Pat dear, I'll give up. And it'll be Wednesday, + because 'twas on a Wednesday that your luck come to you." + </p> + <p> + Another month went by and the holiday trade was over. + Nevertheless the amount of custom at Mr. Farnham's did not + diminish much. Ladies who went out on looking tours, if they + began at Farnham's ended there by purchasing. If they stopped + first at Wall's they went on to Farnham's and bought there. + Mr. Wall was not blind. And so, one day General Brady walked + into Mr. Farnham's store and back to his desk again. + </p> + <p> + "Another rise?" asked the merchant laughingly. + </p> + <p> + "Something of the sort," was the rejoinder. "Mr. Wall offers + forty dollars a month for Pat." + </p> + <p> + "He doesn't take him though," was the significant answer. + </p> + <p> + The General laughed. "I see you appreciate him," he said. + </p> + <p> + "Well, to tell the truth, General, I know my right hand man + when I see him, and Pat O'Callaghan is his name. I only wish + there were two of him." + </p> + <p> + The General's face grew thoughtful. "There may be," he said + at length. "His next brother, Mike, is at our house, and just + as much of a born trader as Pat. His ways, however, are a + little different." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Farnham put out his hand. "I take this hint as very kind + of you, General. When may I have him?" + </p> + <p> + "Could you wait till next fall? He ought to finish this + school year. Next winter I could take charge of him one + evening a week together with Pat. The terms must be the same + for him as they were for Pat when he began—fifteen + dollars a month and one evening each week out." + </p> + <p> + "All right, General. I'll be frank with you—-I'm glad + to get him on those terms. I begin to think that it's enough + of a recommendation for a boy to be an O'Callaghan." + </p> + <p> + The General smiled as he left Mr. Farnham's desk, and on his + way out of the store, he stopped to speak to Pat. + </p> + <p> + "What is your greatest ambition, my boy?" he asked. And he + knew what answer he would receive before Pat replied, "To + have a store with O'Callaghan Brothers over the door." + </p> + <p> + Again the General smiled, and this time very kindly. "I'll + tell you a sort of a secret," he said, "that isn't so much of + a secret that you need to hesitate about speaking of it. + Mike's coming to Mr. Farnham next fall." + </p> + <p> + Then the boy got hold of the man's hand. "General Brady," he + began after a moment of silence, "you know I can't thank you + as I ought in words, but——" and then he stopped. + This boy who could fight to defend his small brother, who + could face contempt to ease his mother's burdens, who could + grub and dig and win a chance for his own promotion, was very + near to tears. + </p> + <p> + He did not wish to shed those tears, and the General knew it. + So with a hearty "Good-by, Pat," the fine old soldier passed + on. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch017"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + The shanty by the tracks had never seen such rejoicing as + occurred within its cheap walls that January evening. Pat had + said nothing at supper time of his wonderful news concerning + Mike. He knew how anxious his brother would be to tell it + himself, and he had left the tale of his own advancement to + follow Mike's disclosure. For he felt sure that he should + find Mike upon his return from the store at nine o'clock, and + that he would spend the night at home, as he sometimes did. + Many times that day he glanced at the print and gingham + counter and imagined Mike's sturdy figure behind it. Pat's + hands were long and slender, while Mike's were of the sort + known as "useful." "Before ever he comes in he shall know how + to measure and display goods, and how to make neat packages," + he thought. "I'll teach him myself odd times." + </p> + <p> + And then followed visions of the increased comfort to come to + the shanty. He saw his mother, with never a wash place, + staying at home every day to guide and control the little + boys. He saw Andy, quiet, studious Andy, moving gently about + in General Brady's house, and the thought came to him that + the General would probably like him better than he did either + Mike or himself, though Andy would never be much of a hand at + marketing. And then came the most daring thought of + all—"Andy shall go to college. Mike and I will help him + to it." + </p> + <p> + But never an opportunity of making a sale did Pat miss. With + that last decision to send Andy to college he had hung upon + himself a new weight. Not a weight that oppressed and bent + him down, but a weight that caused him to hold his head up + and resolve, as never before, to do his best. + </p> + <p> + "Andy's not strong," his busy brain, in the intervals of + trade, ran on. "But with Mike on one side of him and me on + the other, he'll get to the place where he can do his best. + General Brady is helping Mike and me. It's a pity if the two + of us can't help Andy." + </p> + <p> + It was hard to keep still at supper time, but Pat succeeded, + only allowing himself to bestow a look of particular + affection on his favorite brother. + </p> + <p> + But his mother was not to be deceived. She followed him to + the door and, putting her head outside, said softly, "You may + kape still if you want to, Pat dear, but 'tis mysilf as knows + you've somethin' on your moind." + </p> + <p> + "Well, then, mother," prophesied Pat with a laughing backward + glance, "I think Mike will be over to spend the evening with + you." And he was off. + </p> + <p> + "And what does he mean by that?" wondered Mrs. O'Callaghan, + looking after him. "There's somethin' astir. I felt it by the + look of him." + </p> + <p> + She turned back and shut the door, and there was little Jim + loitering as if he hardly knew whether to wash the dishes or + not. + </p> + <p> + "'Tis the bank that's ahead of you, do you moind, Jim? Hurry + up with your dish pan. Pat was sayin' maybe Mike'll be home + this evenin'." + </p> + <p> + In response to this urging little Jim made a clatter with the + dishes that might be taken by some to represent an increase + of speed, but his mother was not of that number. + </p> + <p> + "Come, Jim," she said, "less n'ise. If you was hustlin' them + thin china dishes of Mrs. Gineral Brady's loike that there'd + be naught left of 'em but pieces—and dirty pieces, too, + for they'd all be broke before you'd washed wan of 'em." + </p> + <p> + "I ain't never goin' to wash any of Mrs. Gineral Brady's + dishes," remarked Jim calmly. + </p> + <p> + "You're young yet, Jim, to be sayin' what you're goin' to do + and what not," was the severe response. "At your age your + father would niver have said he would or he would not about + what was a long way ahead of him, for your father was wise, + and he knowed that ne'er a wan of us knows what's comin' to + us." + </p><img src="images/ill228.png" width="250" height="380" align="left" + hspace="20" alt= + "[Illustration: Little Jim made a clatter with the dishes.]"> + <p> + But Jim's countenance expressed indifference. "Gineral + Brady's got a bank without washin' dishes for it," he + observed. + </p> + <p> + The widow stared. This was a little nearer to impertinence + than anything she had before encountered. + </p> + <p> + "You moind the Gineral made gravy, do you?" she said at last. + "And good gravy, too?" + </p> + <p> + Jim was obliged to own that he remembered it. "And that he + done it with an apron on to kape from gettin' burnt and + spattered?" + </p> + <p> + Jim nodded. + </p> + <p> + "Him that ain't above makin' gravy, ain't above washin' + dishes, nayther," was the statement made in Mrs. + O'Callaghan's most impressive manner. "Show Gineral Brady a + pile of dishes that it was his place to wash, and he'd wash + 'em, you may depind. 'Tis iver the biggest folks as will do + little things loike that when they has to, and do 'em good, + too. What's got into you, Jim?" + </p> + <p> + "You think Pat and Mike and Andy's better than me," burst out + the jealous little fellow. + </p> + <p> + "I think," said his mother, "that Pat and Moike and Andy + <i>does</i> better than you, for they takes what's set for + 'em and does it as good as they can. But you're all Tim's + b'ys, so you are." + </p> + <p> + "If I done like Pat and Mike and Andy," asked Jim + hesitatingly, "would you think I was just as good?" + </p> + <p> + "Sure and I would, Jim," said his mother earnestly. "Will you + try?" + </p> + <p> + "I will." + </p> + <p> + And then steps crunched on the snowy path that led to the + shanty door, and Mike came in. There was that in his face + that told his mother without a word that he brought good + news. + </p> + <p> + "Moike! Moike! 'Tis the shanty's the luckiest place in town, + for there's naught but good news comes to it, do you see? + What have you got to tell?" + </p> + <p> + "I've got to tell," cried Mike in ringing tones, "that next + fall I'm to go to Mr. Farnham's store at fifteen dollars a + month. Pat shan't do all for you, mother. I'll do some + myself." + </p> + <p> + For a moment the widow was dazed. Then she said, "I don't + know what I was lookin' for, but it wasn't anything so good + as this. 'Twas Gineral Brady got you the place, was it?" + </p> + <p> + "It was, mother." + </p> + <p> + "I knowed it. He's the man to be loike." She looked around + upon her sons, and then she said, "I want all my b'ys to + remimber that it's honorable empl'yment to do anything in the + world for Gineral Brady and Mrs. Gineral Brady, too. The + toime may come when you can do some big thing for 'em, but + the toime's roight here when you can sweep and cook and wash + dishes for 'em, and make 'em aisy and comfortable, and so + lingthen out their days. Moike goin' to the store gives Andy + a chance to show that the O'Callaghans knows how to be + grateful. And, Moike, you'll be takin' home another goose for + 'em when you go. A goose ain't much, but it shows what I'd do + if I had the chance. And that's all that makes a prisint seem + good anyway—jist to know that the giver's heart is warm + toward you." + </p> + <p> + She paused and then went on, "Well, well, and that's what Pat + was kapin' still about at supper toime. I could see that he + knowed somethin' that he wouldn't tell. He'd be givin' you + the chance to bring your own good news, Moike, do you see? + Pat's the b'y to give other folks the chances as is their + due. There's them that fond of gabblin' and makin' a stir + that they'd have told it thimsilves, but sure O'Callaghan + ain't their name." + </p> + <p> + At this every face grew bright, for even Barney and Tommie + saw that no undue praise of Pat was meant, but that, as + O'Callaghans, they were all held incapable of telling other + people's stories, and they lifted their heads up. All but + Larry who, with sleepily drooping crown, was that moment + taken up and prepared for bed. + </p> + <p> + "And now, Moike," said Mrs. O'Callaghan when Larry had been + disposed of, "'tis fitting you should sit to-night in the + father's chair. Sit you down in it." + </p> + <p> + "Not I, mother," responded the gallant Mike. "Sit you in it, + and 'twill be all the same as if I sat there myself." + </p> + <p> + "Well, well, Moike," said the widow with a pleased smile. + "Have it your own way. Kape on tryin' to spoil your mother + with kindness. 'Tis somethin' you larned from your father, + and I'll not be denyin' it makes my heart loight." + </p> + <p> + And then the talk went on to Andy's promotion to General + Brady's kitchen. + </p> + <p> + "Andy and me won't be a team then," put in little Jim. "I'll + run things myself. I guess I can cook." + </p> + <p> + "Well said, Jim!" cried his mother. "To be sure you can + cook—when you've larned how. There's them that takes to + cookin' by nature, I've heard, but I've niver seen any of + 'em. There's rules to iverything, and iverybody must larn + 'em. For 'tis the rule that opens the stingy hand, and shuts + a bit the ginerous wan, and so kapes all straight." + </p> + <p> + But little Jim turned a deaf ear to his mother's wisdom. He + was thinking what wonderful dishes he would concoct, and how + often they would have pudding. Pudding was Jim's favorite + food, and something seldom seen on the widow's table. Little + Jim resolved to change the bill of fare, and to go without + pudding only when he must. He could not hope to put his plans + into operation for many months to come, however; so, with a + sigh, he opened his eyes and ears again to what was passing + around him, and was just in time to see Barney and Tommie + marching to bed an hour later than usual. They had been + permitted to sit up till half-past eight in honor of Mike's + good fortune. Had their mother known all, they might have + stayed in the kitchen engaged in the difficult task of + keeping their eyes open at least an hour longer. But they + were fast enough asleep in their bed when Pat came gaily in. + </p> + <p> + "Ah, Pat, my b'y, you kept still at supper toime famous, so + you did, but the news is out," began Mrs. O'Callaghan. "It's + Moike that's in luck, and sure he desarves it." + </p> + <p> + "That he does, mother," agreed Pat heartily. "But will you + say the same for me if I tell you something?" + </p> + <p> + The widow regarded him anxiously. There could not be bad + news! "Out with it quick, Pat!" she cried. + </p> + <p> + "Well, then, mother," said Pat with mock resignation in his + tone and a sparkle of fun in his eye, "I'm to have forty + dollars a month." + </p> + <p> + "Forty dollars!" repeated the mother. "Forty dollars! That's + the Gineral's doin's again. B'ys, I'd be proud to see any wan + of you crawl on your knees to sarve the Gineral. Look at all + he's done for us, and us doin' nothin' to desarve it, only + doin' our best." + </p> + <p> + And there were tears in the widow's eyes. + </p> + <p> + "But, mother," resumed Pat, "'tis yourself has the bad luck." + </p> + <p> + "And what do you mean, Pat?" + </p> + <p> + "You've lost another wash place to-night." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Callaghan smiled. "Are you sure of it?" she asked. + </p> + <p> + "I am," was the determined answer. + </p> + <p> + "Have it your own way. You and Moike are headstrong b'ys, so + you are. If you kape on I'll have nothin' to do but to sit + with my hands folded. And that's what your father was always + plazed to see me do." + </p> + <p> + The two brothers exchanged glances of satisfaction, while + Andy looked wistfully on and little Jim frowned jealously. + </p> + <p> + "Now, mother," said Pat, "I've the thought for you. It came + to me to-day in the store. 'Tis the best thought ever I had. + Andy's going to college." + </p> + <p> + The delicate boy started. How had Pat divined the wish of his + heart? + </p> + <p> + "'Tis Andy that will make us all proud, if only he can go to + college," concluded this unselfish oldest brother. + </p> + <p> + The widow glanced at the lit-up countenance and eager eyes of + her third son, and, loth to rouse hopes that might later have + to be dashed down, observed, "Thim colleges are ixpinsive, I + belave." + </p> + <p> + Andy's face clouded with anxiety. There must be a chance for + him, or Pat would not have spoken with so much certainty. + </p> + <p> + "They may be," replied Pat, "but Andy will have Mike on one + side of him and me on the other, and we'll make it all + right." + </p> + <p> + "That we will," cried Mike enthusiastically. "By the time he + needs to go I'll be making forty dollars a month myself, and + little Jim will be earning for himself." + </p> + <p> + Sturdy Mike as he spoke cast an encouraging look on his + favorite brother, who laid by his frown and put on at once an + air of importance. + </p> + <p> + "I'm goin' to be a foightin' man loike the Gineral," he + announced pompously. + </p> + <p> + "Well, well," cried the widow. "I'm gettin' old fast. You'll + all be growed up in a few minutes." + </p> + <p> + And then they all laughed. + </p> + <p> + But presently the mother said, "Thank God for brothers as is + brothers. Andy is goin' to college sure." + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch018"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + Summer time came again. The stove went out into the airy + kitchen, and a larger flock of geese squawked in the weeds + and ditches. Again Andy and Jim drove the cows, Andy of a + morning with a dreamy stroll, and Jim of an evening with a + strut that was intended for a military gait. Who had told + little Jim of West Point, the family did not know. But he had + been told by somebody. + </p> + <p> + And his cows were to him as a battalion to be commanded. The + General used to watch him from his front veranda with a + smile. Somewhere Jim had picked up the military salute, and + he never failed to honor the General with it as he strutted + past with his cows. And always the old soldier responded with + an amused look in his eyes which Jim was too far away to see, + even if he had not been preoccupied with his own visions. Jim + was past ten now, and not much of a favorite with other boys. + But he was a prime favorite with himself. + </p> + <p> + "West P'int," mused Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Let him go there if he + can. 'Twill be better than gettin' to be an agitator." + </p> + <p> + The widow continued her musings and finally she asked, "Where + is West P'int, Jim?" + </p> + <p> + "It's where they make foightin' men out of boys." + </p> + <p> + "Is it far from here?" + </p> + <p> + "I don't know. I can get there anyway." His mother looked at + him and she saw pugnacity written all over him. His + close-cropped red hair, which was of a beautiful shade and + very thick, stood straight on end all over his head. His very + nature seemed belligerent. + </p> + <p> + "The trouble with you, Jim," she said, "is that you'd iver go + foightin' in toimes of peace. Foight when foightin's to be + done, and the rest of the toime look plissant loike the + Gineral." + </p> + <p> + "I ain't foightin' in times of peace any more," responded + little Jim confidentially. "I ain't licked a boy for three + weeks. Mebbe I won't lick any one all summer." + </p> + <p> + His mother sighed. "I should hope you wouldn't, Jim," she + said. "'Tisn't gintlemanly to be lickin' any wan with your + fist." + </p> + <p> + "And what would I be lickin' 'em with?" inquired Jim + wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + "You're not to be lickin' 'em at all. Hear to me now, Jim, + and don't be the only wan of your father's b'ys I'll have to + punish. Wait till you get to your West P'int, and larn when + and where to foight. Will you, Jim?" + </p> + <p> + Little Jim reflected. The request seemed a reasonable one, + and so "I will," said he. + </p> + <p> + Evening after evening he drove the cows and gave his commands + at the corners of the streets. And the cows plodded on, + swinging their tails to brush the flies away from their + sides, stopping here and there where a mouthful of grass + might be picked up, stirring the dust in dry weather with + their dragging feet, and sinking hoof-deep in the mud when + there had been rain. But always little Jim was the + commander—even when the rain soaked him and ran in + rills from his hat brim. + </p> + <p> + On rainy mornings Andy, wearing rubber boots and a rubber + coat and carrying an umbrella, picked his way along, + following his obedient charges to the pasture gate. But + little Jim liked to have bare legs and feet and to feel the + soft mud between his toes, and the knowledge that he was + getting wetter and wetter was most satisfactory to him. At + home there was always a clean shirt and a pair of cottonade + pantaloons waiting for him, and nothing but a "Well, Jim!" by + way of reproof. + </p> + <p> + "File right!" little Jim would cry, or "File left!" as the + case might be. And when the street corner was turned, + "Forward!" + </p> + <p> + All this circumstance and show had its effect on the two + small Morton boys and at last, on a pleasant June evening, + they began to mock him. + </p> + <p> + Jim stood it silently for a quarter of a second, while his + face grew red. Then he burst out, "I'd lick both of you, if I + was sure this was a where or when to foight!" + </p> + <p> + His persecutors received this information with delight, and + repeated it afterward to their older brother with many + chuckles. + </p> + <p> + "Lucky for you!" was his answer. "He can whip any boy in town + of your size." Whereat the little fellows grew sober, and + recognized the fact that some scruple of Jim's not understood + by them had probably saved them unpleasant consequences of + their mockery. + </p> + <p> + Jim's ambition, in due time, came to the ears of General + Brady, and very soon thereafter the old soldier, who had now + taken the whole O'Callaghan family under his charge, + contrived to meet the boy. + </p> + <p> + "Jim," said he, "I hear you're quite set on West Point. I + also hear that you did not stand well in your classes last + year. I advise you to study hard hereafter." + </p> + <p> + Jim touched his hat in military style. "What's larnin' your + lessons got to do with bein' a foightin' man, sir?" he asked + respectfully. + </p> + <p> + "A great deal, my boy. If you ever get to West Point you will + have to study here, and you will have to go to school there + besides." + </p> + <p> + Jim sighed. "You can't get to be nothin' you want to be + without doin' a lot you don't want to do," he said + despondently. "I was goin' to have a bank loike you, sir, but + my mother said the first steps to it was dustin' and + dishwashin', so I give up the notion." + </p> + <p> + The General laughed and little Jim went his way, but he + remembered the General's words. As the summer waned and the + time for school approached the cows heard no more "File + right! File left! Forward!" Little Jim had no love for study + and he drove with a "Hi, there! Get along with you!" But it + was all one to the cows. And so his dreams of West Point + faded. He began to study the cook book, for now Andy was to + go to General Brady's, and on two days of the week he was to + make the family happy with his puddings. Mrs. O'Callaghan, + having but two days out now, had decided to do the cooking + herself on those days when she was at home. + </p> + <p> + But never a word said little Jim to his mother on the subject + of puddings. "I can read just how to make 'em. I'll not be + botherin' her," he thought. "Pat and Mike is always wantin' + her to take it aisy. She can take it aisy about the puddin', + so she can." + </p> + <p> + The week before school began his mother had given him some + instructions of a general character on cooking and sweeping + and bed-making. "I'm home so much, Jim," she told him, "that + I'll let you off with makin' the bed where you're to slape + with Mike. That you must make so's to be larnin' how." + </p> + <p> + "Wan bed's not much," said little Jim airily. + </p> + <p> + "See that you makes it good then," was the answer. + </p> + <p> + "And don't you be burnin' the steak nor soggin' the + potatoes," was her parting charge when she went to her + washing on Monday, the first day of school. + </p> + <p> + "Sure and I won't," was the confident response. "I know how + to cook steak and potatoes from watchin' Andy." + </p> + <p> + That night after school little Jim stepped into Mr. Farnham's + store. "I'm needin' a few raisins for my cookin'," he said to + Pat. + </p> + <p> + Pat looked surprised, but handed him the money and little Jim + strutted out. + </p> + <p> + "What did Jim want?" asked Mike when he had opportunity. + </p> + <p> + "Raisins for his cooking." And both brothers grinned. + </p> + <p> + "I'll just be doin' the hardest first," said little Jim as, + having reached home, he tossed off his hat, tied on his + apron, and washed his hands. "And what's that but the + puddin'?" + </p> + <p> + He slapped the pudding dish out on the table, opened his + paper of raisins, ate two or three just to be sure they were + good, and then hastily sought the cook book. It opened of + itself at the pudding page, which little Jim took to be a + good omen. "Puddin's the thing," he said. + </p> + <p> + "Now how much shall I make? Barney and Tommie is awful eaters + when it comes to somethin' good, and so is Larry. I'd ought + to have enough." + </p> + <p> + He read over the directions. + </p> + <p> + "Seems to me this receipt sounds skimpin'," was his comment. + "Somethin's got to be done about it. Most loike it wasn't + made for a big family, but for a little wan loike General + Brady's." + </p> + <p> + He ate another raisin. + </p> + <p> + "A little puddin's just nothin'," he said. "I'll just put in + what the receipt calls for, and as much more of everything as + it seems to need." + </p> + <p> + Busily he measured and stirred and tasted, and with every + taste more sugar was added, for little Jim liked sweets. At + last it was ready for the oven, even down to the raisins, + which had been picked from their stems and all unwashed and + unstoned cast into the pudding basin. And never before had + that or any other pudding dish been so full. If Jim so much + as touched it, it slopped over. + </p> + <p> + "And sure and that's because the puddin' dish is too little," + he remarked to himself. "They'll have to be gettin' me a + bigger wan. And how long will it take it to bake, I wonder? + Till it's done, of course." + </p> + <p> + He turned to the stove, which was now in the house again, and + the fire was out. + </p> + <p> + "Huh!" exclaimed little Jim. "I'll soon be makin' a fire." + </p> + <p> + He rushed for the kindling, picking out a swimming raisin as + he ran. "They'll see the difference between Andy's cookin' + and mine, I'm thinkin'. Dustin' and dishwashin'! Just as if I + couldn't cook with the best of them!" + </p> + <p> + The sugar was sifted over the table, his egg-shells were on + the floor, and a path of flour led to the barrel when, + three-quarters of an hour later, the widow stepped in. But + there was a roaring fire and the pudding was baking. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Jim," cried his mother, "'tis a big fire you've got, + sure. But I don't see no potatoes a-cookin'." + </p> + <p> + Jim looked blank. He had forgotten the potatoes. He had been + so busy coaling up the fire. + </p> + <p> + "Run and get 'em," directed his mother. "There's no toime for + palin' 'em. We'll have to b'ile 'em with their jackets on." + </p> + <p> + But there was no time even for that, for Pat and Mike came in + to supper and could not be kept waiting. + </p> + <p> + Hastily the widow got the dishpan and washed off the sticky + table, and her face, as Jim could see, was very sober. Then, + while Jim set the table, Pat fried the steak and Mike brushed + up the flour from the floor. + </p> + <p> + And now a burnt smell was in the air. It was not the steak. + It seemed to seep out of the oven. + </p> + <p> + "Open the oven door, Jim," commanded Mrs. O'Callaghan, after + one critical sniff. + </p> + <center> + <img src="images/ill249.png" width="400" height="469" alt= + "[Illustration: Open the oven door, Jim.]"> + </center> + <p> + The latest cook of the O'Callaghans obeyed, and out rolled a + cloud of smoke. The pudding had boiled over and flooded the + oven bottom. Poor Jim! + </p> + <p> + "What's in the oven, Jim? Perhaps you'll be tellin' us," said + his mother gravely. + </p> + <p> + "My puddin'," answered little Jim, very red in the face. + </p> + <p> + At the word pudding the faces of Barney and Tommie and Larry, + who had come in very hungry, lit up. But at the smell they + clouded again. A pudding lost was worse than having no + pudding to begin with. For to lose what is within reach of + his spoon is hard indeed for any boy to bear. + </p> + <p> + "And what was it I told you to be cookin' for supper?" asked + the widow when they had all sat down to steak and bread and + butter, leaving the doors and windows wide open to let out + the pudding smoke. + </p> + <p> + But little Jim did not reply and his downcast look was in + such contrast to his erect hair, which no failure of puddings + could down, that Pat and Mike burst out laughing. The + remembrance of the raisins little Jim had so pompously asked + for was upon them, too. And even Mrs. O'Callaghan smiled. + </p> + <p> + "Was it steak and potatoes I told you to be cookin'?" she + persisted. + </p> + <p> + Little Jim nodded miserably. + </p> + <p> + "I'll not be hard on you, Jim," said his mother, "for I see + you're ashamed of yourself, and you ought to be, too. But + I'll say this to you; them that cooks puddin's when they're + set to cook steak and potatoes is loike to make a smoke in + the world, and do themsilves small credit. Let's have no more + puddin's, Jim, till I give you the word." + </p> + <p> + That was all there was of it. But Jim had lost his appetite + for pudding, and it was long before it returned to him. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch019"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + There were three to sit by the kitchen stove now and talk of + an evening from half-past nine till ten, and they were the + widow and Pat and Mike. + </p> + <p> + "It's Andy that makes me astonished quite," observed Mrs. + O'Callaghan. "Here it is the first of December and him three + months at Gineral Brady's and gettin' fat on it. He niver got + fat to home, and that's what bates me." + </p> + <p> + "Well, mother, he's got a nice big room by himself to sleep + in. The Physiology's down on crowding, and five boys in one + bedroom ain't good for a nervous boy like Andy." + </p> + <p> + "Nor it ain't good for the rest of you, nayther," responded + Mrs. O'Callaghan, with conviction. + </p> + <p> + "What do you say, b'ys? Shall we ask the landlord to put us + on another room in the spring? He'll raise the rint on us if + he does." + </p> + <p> + The widow regarded her sons attentively, and they, feeling + the proud responsibility of being consulted by their mother, + answered as she would have them. + </p> + <p> + "Then that's settled," said she. "The more room, the more + rint. Any landlord can see that—a lawyer, anyway. Do + you think, b'ys, Andy'll be a lawyer when he comes from + college?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, mother?" asked Pat. + </p> + <p> + "'Cause I don't want him to be. He ain't got it in him to be + comin' down hard and sharp on folks, and so he won't be a + good wan. He'll be at the law loike little Jim at puddin's. + You niver was to coort, was you, b'ys?" + </p> + <p> + Pat and Mike confessed that they had never been at court. + </p> + <p> + "I knowed you hadn't. I jist asked you. Well, you see, b'ys, + them lawyers gets the witnesses up and asks 'em all sorts of + impudent questions, and jist as good as tells 'em they lies + quite often. Andy couldn't niver do the loikes of that. + 'Tain't in him. Do you know, b'ys, folks can't do what ain't + in 'em, no matter if they do go to college. Now little Jim's + the wan for a lawyer. He'd be the wan to make a man forget + his own name, and all on account of impudent questions." + </p> + <p> + Pat and Mike looked surprised. They were both fond of little + Jim, Mike particularly so. + </p> + <p> + "I see you wonders at me, but little Jim's a-worryin' me. I + don't know what to be doin' with him. B'ys, would you belave + it? I can't teach him a thing. Burn the steak he will if I + lave him with it, and Moike knows the sort of a bed he makes. + He's clane out of the notion of that West P'int and bein' a + foightin' man, and the teacher's down on him at the school + for niver larnin' his lessons. And the fear's with me night + and day that he'll get to be wan of them agitators yet." + </p> + <p> + Pat and Mike looked at each other. Never before had their + mother said a word to them about any of their brothers. And + while they looked at each other the brave little woman kept + her eyes fixed on the stove. + </p> + <p> + "The first step to bein' an agitator," she resumed as if half + to herself, "is niver to be doin' what you're set to do good. + Then, of course, them you work for don't loike it, and small + blame to 'em. And the nixt thing is to get turned off and + somebody as <i>will</i> do it good put in your place. And + then the nixt step is to go around tellin' iverybody you + meets, whether you knows 'em or not, how you're down on your + luck. And how it's a bad world with no chance in it for poor + folks, when iverybody knows most of the rich folks begun + poor, and if there's no chance for poor folks, how comes them + that's rich now to be rich when they started poor? And then + the nixt step is to make them that's content out of humor, + rilin' 'em up with wishin' for what they've got no business + with, seein' they hain't earned it. And that's all there is + to it, for sure when you've got that far you're wan of them + agitators." + </p> + <p> + The boys listened respectfully, and their mother went on: + "Little Jim's got started that way. He's that far along that + he don't do nothin' good he's set at only when it's a happen + so. You can't depind on him. I've got to head him off from + bein' an agitator, for he's your father's b'y, and I can't + meet Tim in the nixt world if I let Jim get ahead of me. + B'ys, will you help me? I've always been thinkin' I couldn't + have your help; I must do it alone. But, b'ys, I can't do it + alone." The little woman's countenance was anxious as she + gazed into the sober faces of Pat and Mike. + </p> + <p> + Nothing but boys themselves, though with the reliability of + men, they promised to help. + </p> + <p> + "I knowed you would," said the widow gratefully. "And now + good night to you. It's gettin' late. But you've eased my + moind wonderful. Just the spakin' out has done me good. Maybe + he'll come through all roight yet." + </p> + <p> + The next morning Mrs. O'Callaghan rose with a face bright as + ever, but Pat and Mike were still sober. + </p> + <p> + "Cheer up!" was her greeting as they came into the kitchen + where she was already bustling about the stove. "Cheer up, + and stand ready till I give you the word. I'm goin' to have + wan more big try at Jim. You took such a load off me with + your listenin' to me and promisin' to help that it's + heartened me wonderful." + </p> + <p> + The two elder sons smiled. To be permitted to hearten their + mother was to them a great privilege, and suddenly little Jim + did not appear the hopeless case he had seemed when they went + to bed the night before. They cheered up, and the three were + pleasantly chatting when sleepy-eyed little Jim came out of + the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + "Hurry, now, and get washed, and then set your table," said + his mother kindly. + </p> + <p> + But little Jim was sulky. + </p> + <p> + "I'm tired of gettin' up early mornin's just to be doin' + girl's work," he said. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. O'Callaghan nodded significantly at Pat and Mike. "What + was that story, Moike, you was tellin' me about the smartest + fellow in the Gineral's mess, before he got to be a gineral, + you know, bein' so handy at all sorts of woman's work? Didn't + you tell me the Gineral said there couldn't no woman come up + to him?" + </p> + <p> + "I did, mother." + </p> + <p> + "I call that pretty foine. Beatin' the women at their own + work. There was only wan man in the mess that could do it, + you said?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, mother," smiled Mike. + </p> + <p> + "I thought so. 'Tain't often you foind a rale handy man loike + that. And he was the best foighter they had, too?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, mother." + </p> + <p> + "I thought I remimbered all about it. Jim, here, can foight, + but do woman's work he can't. That is, and do it good. He + mostly gets the tablecloth crooked. No, he's no hand at the + girl's work." + </p> + <p> + "I'll show you," thought little Jim. On a sudden the + tablecloth was straight, and everything began to take its + proper place on the table. + </p> + <p> + "Mother," ventured Pat, though he had not yet received the + word, "the table's set pretty good this morning." + </p> + <p> + "So it is, Pat, so it is," responded the widow glancing it + over. + </p> + <p> + "Maybe Jim can do girl's work after all." + </p> + <p> + "Maybe he can, Pat, but he'll have to prove it before he'll + foind them that'll belave it. That's the way in this world. + 'Tis not enough to be sayin' you can do this and that. You've + got to prove it. And how will you prove it? By doin' it, of + course." + </p> + <p> + Little Jim heard, though he did not seem to be listening, + being intent on making things uncomfortable for Barney and + Tommie as far as he could in a quiet way. + </p> + <p> + It was a passion with little Jim to prove things—not by + his mother's method, but by his own. So far his disputes had + been with boys of his own size and larger, and if they + doubted what he said he was in the habit of proving his + assertions with his fists. The result was that other boys + either dodged him or agreed with him with suspicious + readiness. His mother had given him a fair trial at the + housework. He would prove to her that it was not because he + could not, but because he would not, that he succeeded no + better. He washed the dishes with care and put them shining + on their shelves, and, a little later, poked his head out of + the bedroom door into the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + "Mother," he said, "you think I can't make a bed good, don't + you?" + </p> + <p> + The widow smiled. "I think you <i>don't</i> make it good," + was her answer. + </p> + <p> + Jim's face darkened with resolution. "She thinks I can't," he + said to himself. "I will, I guess." + </p> + <p> + With vim he set to work, and the bed was made in a trice. + Little Jim stood off as far as he could and sharply eyed his + work. "'Tain't done good," he snapped. And he tore it to + pieces again. It took longer to make it the next time, for he + was more careful, but still it didn't look right. He tore the + clothes off it again, this time with a sigh. "Beds is awful," + he said. "It's lots easier to lick a boy than to make a bed." + And then he went at it again. The third time it was a trifle + more presentable, and the school bell was ringing. + </p> + <p> + "I've got to go, and I hain't proved it to her," he said. + "But I'll work till I do, see if I don't. And then when I + have proved it to her I won't make no more beds." + </p> + <p> + Jim was no favorite at school, where he had fallen a whole + room behind the class he had started with. His teacher + usually wore a long-suffering air when she dealt with him. + </p> + <p> + "She looks like she thought I didn't know nothin' and never + would," he said to himself that morning when he had taken his + seat after a decided failure of a recitation. "I'll show + her." And he set to work. His mind was all unused to study, + and—that day he didn't show her. + </p> + <p> + "Who'd 'a' thought it was so hard to prove things?" he said + at night. "There's another day a-comin', though." + </p> + <p> + Now some people are thankful for showing. To little Jim, + showing was degrading. Suddenly his mother perceived this, + and felt a relief she had not known before. + </p> + <p> + "Whativer else Jim's got or not got," she said, "he's got a + backbone of his own, so he has. Let him work things out for + himsilf. Will I be showin' him how to make a bed? I won't + that. I've been praisin' him too much, intoirely. I see it + now. Praise kapes Pat and Moike and Andy doin' their best to + get more of it. But it makes little Jim aisy in his moind and + scornful loike, so his nose is in the air all the toime and + nothin' done. A very little praise will do Jim. And still + less of fault-findin'," she added. + </p> + <p> + "B'ys," she announced that evening "Jim's took a turn. We'll + stand off and watch him a bit. If he'll do roight for his own + makin', sure and that'll be better than for us to be havin' a + hand in it. Give him his head and plinty of chances to prove + things, and when he has proved 'em, own up to it." + </p> + <p> + The two brightened. "I couldn't believe little Jim was so + bad, mother," said Mike. + </p> + <p> + "Bad, is it? Sure and he ain't bad yet. And now's the toime + to kape him from it. 'Tis little you can be doin' with a + spoiled anything. Would you belave it? He made his bed three + toimes this mornin' and done his best at it, and me a-seein' + him through the crack of the door where it was open a bit. + But I can't say nothin' to him nor show him how, for showin's + not for the loike of him. And them that takes iverything hard + that way comes out sometimes at the top of the hape. Provin' + things is a lawyer's business. If Jim iver gets to be a + lawyer, he'll be a good wan." + </p> + <p> + Mike, when he went to bed that night, looked down at the + small red head of the future lawyer, snuggled down into the + pillow, with the bedclothes close to his ears. "I'll not + believe that Jim will ever come to harm," he said. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch020"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + "There's another day comin'," little Jim had said when he lay + down in acknowledged defeat on the night that followed his + first day of real trying. The other day came, and after it + another and another, and still others till the first of March + was at hand. In the three months, which was the sum of those + "other days," Jim had made good progress. For many weeks he + had been perfect in the art of bed-making, but instead of + giving up the practice of that accomplishment, as he had + declared he would do so soon as he could prove to his mother + that he could make a bed, he had become so cranky and + particular that nobody else could make a bed to suit him. And + as for studying—he was three classes ahead of where the + first of December had found him. He could still whip any boy + rash enough to encounter him, but his days and even his + evenings, in great part, were given to preparing a triumph + over his mates in his lessons, and a surprise for his + teacher. + </p> + <p> + The widow used to lean back in her husband's chair of an + evening and watch him as he sat at the table, his elbows on + the pine and his hands clutching his short hair, while the + tiny, unshaded lamp stared in his face, and he dug away with + a pertinacity that meant and insured success. + </p> + <p> + "And what book is that you've got?" she would ask when he + occasionally lifted his eyes. He would tell her and, in a + moment, be lost to all surroundings. For little Jim was + getting considerable enjoyment out of his hard work. + </p> + <p> + "Pat nor Moike niver studied loike that," thought Mrs. + O'Callaghan. "Nor did even Andy. Andy, he always jist loved + his book and took his larnin' in aisy loike. But look at that + little Jim work!" As for little Jim, he did not seem to + observe that he was enjoying his mother's favorable regard. + </p> + <p> + "And what book is it you loike the best?" she asked one + evening when Jim was about to go to bed. + </p> + <p> + "The history book," was the answer. + </p> + <p> + "And why?" + </p> + <p> + "'Cause there's always a lot about the big foightin' men in + it." + </p><img src="images/ill267.png" width="200" height="234" align= + "right" hspace="20" alt= + "[Illustration: 'Look at that little Jim work!']"> + <p> + "Ah!" said the widow. "Andy, he loiked the history book best, + too. But I didn't know before 'twas for the foightin'." + </p> + <p> + "'Tain't," briefly replied little Jim. And seeing his + mother's questioning look he went on: "The history book's got + a lot in it, too, about the way the people lived, and the + kings and queens, and them that wrote poems and things. 'Tis + for that Andy loikes the history book. He'll be writin' + himself one of these days, I'm thinkin'. His teacher says he + writes the best essays in the school already." + </p> + <p> + And having thus artlessly betrayed Andy's ambition, little + Jim went to bed. + </p> + <p> + "Ah!" thought the widow, getting out her darning, for only + one could use the lamp at a time, and if Jim was of a mind to + study she was of no mind to hinder him. "And is that what + Andy'd be at? I wonder now if that's a good business? I don't + know none of them that has it, and I can't tell." She drew + one of Jim's stockings over her hand and eyed ruminatingly + the prodigious hole in the heel. "That b'y do be gettin' + through his stockin's wonderful," she said dismissing Andy + from her thoughts. "Well, if he niver does no worse than that + I'll not be complainin', but sure and he can make more + darnin' than Pat and Moike and Andy put together." + </p> + <p> + Why are the winds of March so high? This spring they blew a + gale. As they roared around corners and through tree tops and + rushed down the streets with fury they made pedestrians + unsteady. But they did not disturb little Jim, who buttoned + up his coat tight, drew down his hat and squared his + shoulders as he went out to meet their buffets. There was + that in little Jim that rejoiced in such weather. + </p> + <p> + One day those frantic winds reached down the big schoolhouse + chimney and drew up a spark of fire from the furnace in the + basement. They lodged it where it would do the most harm, + and, in a short time, the janitor was running with a white + face to the principal's office. As quietly as possible each + teacher was called out into the hall and warned. And, in a + few moments more, the pupils in every room were standing in + marching order waiting for the word to file out. Something + was wrong each room knew from the face of its teacher. And + then came the clang of the fire bell, and the waiting ranks + were terrified. + </p> + <p> + Little Jim's teacher on the second floor was an extremely + nervous young woman. In a voice that trembled with fright and + excitement she had managed to give her orders. She had + stationed most of the boys in a line running north and south + and farthest from the door. Nearest the door were the girls + and some of the smaller boys. And now they must wait for the + signal that should announce the turn of their room to march + out. As it happened, little Jim stood at the head of the line + of boys, with the girls not far from him. The fire bell was + ringing and all the whistles in the town screaming. Below + them they could hear the little ones hurried out; above them + and on the stairs the third-floor pupils marching; and then + in little Jim's room there was panic. The girls huddled + closer together and began to cry. The boys behind little Jim + began to crowd and push. The nearest boy was against him when + little Jim half turned and threw him back to place by a + vigorous jerk of his elbow. + </p> + <p> + "Boys! Boys!" screamed the teacher. "Standstill!" + </p> + <p> + But they did not heed. Again they struggled forward, while + the teacher covered her face with her hands in horror at the + thought of what would happen on the crowded stairways if her + boys rushed out. + </p> + <p> + And then little Jim turned his back on the door and the girls + near him and made ready his fists. "The first boy that comes + I'll knock down!" he cried. And the line shrank back. + </p> + <p> + "We'll be burned! We'll be burned up!" shrieked a boy, one of + the farthest away. + </p> + <p> + "You won't be burned nayther," called back little Jim. "But + you'll wish you was to-morrow if wan of you gets past me. + Just you jump them desks and get past me and I'll lick you + till you'll wish you was burnt up!" + </p> + <p> + Little Jim's aspect was so fierce, and the boys knew so well + that he would do just as he said, that not one moved from his + place. One minute little Jim held that line of boys. Then the + door opened and out filed the girls. When the last one had + disappeared little Jim stepped aside. "Go out now," he said + with fine contempt, "you that are so afraid you'll get burned + yourselves that you'd tramp the girls down." + </p> + <p> + The last to leave the room were the teacher and little Jim. + Her grasp on his arm trembled, but it did not let go, even + when they had reached the campus which was full of people. + Every business man had locked his doors and had run with his + clerks to the fire. For this was no ordinary fire. The + children of the town were in danger. At a distance Jim could + see Pat with Larry in his arms and Barney and Tommie close + beside him, and here and there, moving anxiously through the + crowd, he saw General Brady and Mike and Andy. But the + teacher's grasp on his arm did not relax. The fire was under + control now and no damage had been done that could not be + repaired. And the teacher was talking. And everybody near was + listening, and more were crowding around and straining their + ears to hear. Those nearest were passing the story on, a + sentence at a time, after the manner of interpreters, and + suddenly there was a shout, "Three cheers for little Jim + O'Callaghan!" + </p> + <center> + <img src="images/ill275.png" width="450" height="760" alt= + "[Illustration 'Three cheers for little Jim O'Callaghan.']"> + </center> + <p> + And then Mike came tearing up and gave him a hug and a pat on + the back. And up came Andy with a look in his eyes that made + little Jim forgive him on the spot for being first in that + housework team in which he himself had been placed second by + his mother. And the General had him by the hand with a "Well + done, Jim!" At which Jim appeared a trifle bewildered. His + fighting propensities had been frowned on so long. + </p> + <p> + At her wash place the widow had heard nothing, the wind + having carried all sounds of commotion the other way, and + there were no children in the family to come unexpectedly + home bringing the news. It was when she stepped into her own + kitchen, earlier than usual, and found Barney and Tommie + there with Larry, who had accompanied them that day as + visitor, that she first heard of the fire. And the important + thing to Barney and Tommie was that their vacation had come + sooner than they had hoped. Later came Jim, stepping high + from the General's praise. But his mother thought nothing of + that. Jim's ways were apt to be airy. + </p> + <p> + But when Pat and Mike came to supper the story was told. The + widow listened with an expression of pride. And when the + story and the supper were finished she took little Jim by the + hand and led him along the tortuous path through the + furniture to the family seat of honor. "Sit there in the + father's chair," she commanded. "I niver thought to be + puttin' wan of my b'ys there for foightin', but foightin's + the thing sometimes." + </p> + <p> + This was on Tuesday. The next day the leading paper of the + town came out, and it contained a full account of little + Jim's coolness and bravery. + </p> + <p> + "They'll be spoilin' little Jim, so they will," said the + widow as she read with glistening eyes. Then she rose to put + the paper carefully away among the few family treasures, and + set about making little Jim a wonderful pudding. If he were + to be spoiled she might as well have a hand in it. "Though + maybe he won't be nayther," she said. "Him that had that much + sinse had ought to have enough to stand praisin'." + </p> + <p> + That evening home came Andy to find his mother absorbed in + the fascinating occupation of hearing from little Jim's own + lips what each individual person had said to him during the + day. + </p> + <p> + "Well," little Jim was saying just as Andy came in, "I should + think they'd said 'most enough. I didn't do anything but keep + them lubberly boys from trampin' the girls down, and it was + easy enough done, too." + </p> + <p> + At which speech the widow perceived that, as yet, little Jim + was not particularly spoiled by all his praise. "'Twas the + history book that done it," thought the mother thankfully. + "Sure and he knows he's done foine, but he ain't been + braggin' on himself much since he took to that, I've noticed. + There's books of all sorts, so there is, some for wan thing + and some for another, but it's the history book that cures + the consate." + </p> + <p> + "We're very busy up at our house," observed Andy. And the + widow could scarcely bring herself to heed him. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," went on Andy. "We've been baking cake to-day, and + there's more to do to-morrow. The General and Mrs. Brady are + going to give little Jim a party Friday evening. General + Brady is wonderfully pleased with Jim." + </p> + <p> + Then indeed he had his mother's attention. "A party, is it?" + she said with gratified pride. "'Tis the Gineral and Mrs. + Brady that knows how to take a body's full cup and jist run + it over. I couldn't have wished nothin' no better than that. + And nobody couldn't nayther. I'll be up to-morrow mysilf to + help and the nixt day, too. Don't tell me there's nothin' I + can't be doin'. Jim can run things to home, can't you, Jim?" + </p> + <p> + Little Jim thought he could. + </p> + <p> + "I'll have Pat and Moike see to gettin' him a new suit + to-morrow. It's late to be gettin' him a new suit and him + a-growin'; but if he can't wear it nixt fall Barney can, and + it's proud he'll be to do it, I'm thinkin'. 'Tisn't often the + nixt youngest b'y has a chance to wear a new suit got for his + brother because he done good and hadn't nothin' fit to wear + to a party, nayther. But Wennott's the town. A party for my + Jim, and at Gineral Brady's, too! Would anybody have belaved + it when we come with nothin' to the shanty? 'Tis the proudest + thing that iver come to us, but no pride could there be about + it if little Jim hadn't desarved it." + </p> + <p> + The widow's heart was full. "Ivery b'y? as he has come along, + has made me proud," she went on. "First Pat and then Moike + and then you, Andy, with your book, and now little Jim with + his foightin'. And that's what beats me, that I should be + proud of my b'y's foightin'. And I am that." + </p> + <p> + Friday evening seemed a long way off to little Jim when he + lay down on his bed that night. He had never attended a party + in his life. Andy had spoken of cake, and, by private + questioning, little Jim had discovered that there would be + ice cream. He tried to imagine what a party was like, but + having no knowledge to go on, he found the effort wearisome + and so dropped asleep. + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p><a name="ch021"><!--Marker--></a> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + Little Jim had never been farther than General Brady's + kitchen. It was a kitchen of which he approved because it had + no path in it. One might go through it in a great hurry + without coming to grief on some chair back, or the footboard + of the mother's bed, or the rocker of the father's chair. + Neither was one in danger of bringing up suddenly on the + corner of the table, or against the side of the stove. The + younger O'Callaghans were free from numerous bruises only + because they knew their way and proceeded with caution. There + was no banging the door open suddenly at the shanty, because + there was always some article of furniture behind the door to + catch it and bang it back sharply into a boy's face. It was + upon these differences in the two kitchens that little Jim + reflected when, arrayed in the new suit, he slipped around + the house and was ushered in by Andy. + </p> + <p> + "What's this!" cried the General, who had caught a glimpse of + the swiftly scudding little figure as it rounded the corner. + "What's this!" and he stood smiling at the door that opened + from the back of the hall into the kitchen. "The hero of the + hour coming in by the back door. This will never do, Jim. + Come with me." + </p> + <p> + Bravely little Jim went forward. He stepped into the hall + close behind the General, and suddenly glanced down. He could + hardly believe his ears. Was he growing deaf? There walked + the General ahead of him, and little Jim could not hear a + footfall, neither could he hear his own tread. + </p> + <p> + But little Jim said nothing. They were now come to the hall + tree, and the General himself helped his guest off with his + overcoat and hung it beside his own. And as for little Jim, + he could hang up his own cap when his host showed him where. + </p> + <p> + Then in through the parlor door they went and on through the + folding doors into the sitting-room where Mrs. Brady stood + among her plants. She had just cut two lovely roses from the + same bush, and one she pinned on her husband's coat and the + other on little Jim's jacket. + </p> + <p> + "Parties is queer," thought little Jim, "but they're nice." + </p> + <p> + For Mrs. Brady, in her quiet way, was contriving to let the + boy understand that she thought exceedingly well of him. It + began to grow dusk, but it was not yet so dark that little + Jim failed to see Pat and Mike come in and run lightly up the + stairs. And then there was a tramp of feet outside, the + doorbell rang, and as the electric light flooded the house, + Andy opened the front door and in trooped boys and girls. + </p> + <p> + Little Jim was amazed. Not one came into the parlor, but Andy + sent them all upstairs. + </p> + <p> + "Is them boys and girls the party?" he asked quickly of Mrs. + Brady. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Jim," was the kind answer. "Your party." + </p> + <p> + Little Jim reflected. "I'd best not be lickin' any of the + boys then this evenin'?" And he turned inquiring eyes on Mrs. + Brady. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brady smiled. "No, Jim," she replied. "You must try to + please them in every way that you can, and make them enjoy + themselves." + </p> + <p> + "Let 'em do just as they're a moind to, and not raise a fuss + about it?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes." + </p> + <p> + Little Jim straightened himself. "I never seen no parties + before," he said, "but I guess I can run it." + </p> + <p> + And then downstairs came the guests and into the parlor to + shake hands with General and Mrs. Brady and Jim. The gay + company spread themselves through the parlor and + sitting-room. They chattered, they laughed, they got up from + their seats and sat down again, and all the time little Jim + had a keen eye upon them. He had never before seen little + girls dressed so, and he noticed that every boy had a flower + on his jacket. + </p> + <p> + And then little Jim bestirred himself. He was here, there, + and everywhere. Did a girl suggest a game, Jim so engineered + that the whole company were soon engaged in it, and he + himself was the gayest player of all. Not once did he suggest + anything. But often he slipped up to Mrs. Brady or the + General and did what he had never done before in his + life—asked advice. + </p> + <p> + "Am I runnin' it right?" he would whisper in Mrs. Brady's + ear; and murmur apologetically to the General, "I never seen + no parties before." + </p> + <p> + "And how do you like parties, Jim?" asked the General + indulgently. + </p> + <p> + "I think there's nothin' to equal 'em," was the fervent + answer. And then away went the young host. + </p> + <p> + At half-past nine Andy appeared at the hall door. Jim saw him + and his heart sank. Was the party over? He feared so, since + Mrs. Brady, followed by the General, went out of the room. + But in a moment the General came back to the doorway. The + guests seemed to understand, for a sudden hush fell on the + talkative tongues. The General saw Jim's uncertain expression + and beckoned to him. + </p> + <p> + "We are going out to supper," he said. "Go ask Annie Jamieson + to walk out with you." + </p> + <p> + Jim obeyed promptly. All at once he remembered the cake and + ice cream. His heart swelled with pride as he led the pretty + little girl across the hall and into the dining-room. And + there were Pat and Mike and Andy showing the guests to their + places and prepared to wait upon them. And if they beamed + upon little Jim, he beamed back with interest. He was + supremely happy. How glad he was that Mike had taught him + Mrs. Brady's way of laying the table, and how to eat + properly! He thought of his mother and wished that she might + see him. But she was at home caring for Barney and Tommie and + Larry. + </p> + <p> + "Sure and I can't lave 'em by thimsilves in the evenin'. + Something moight happen to 'em," said this faithful mother. + </p> + <p> + Such food Jim had not tasted before, but he ate sparingly. He + was too happy to eat, for little Jim, although extremely fond + of pudding, was no glutton. There he sat with his auburn hair + on end, his blue eyes bright and shining, smiles and grave + looks chasing themselves over his face till the General was + prouder of him than ever. + </p> + <p> + "I'm not sure but he's <i>the</i> O'Callaghan," he told his + wife, when the children had gone back to the parlor for a + final game before the party should break up. "But it is that + mother of his and his older brothers who have brought him + on." + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Pat and Mike and Andy washed the + dishes and put things to rights with three hearts full of + pride in little Jim. + </p> + <p> + "To think the mother was afraid he would turn out an + agitator!" said Pat. + </p> + <p> + "This night settles that," responded Mike. "He's more likely + to turn out a society man. He'll be a credit to us all." + </p> + <p> + At last the guests were gone. And then for the first time + little Jim's eyes examined with keen scrutiny the pretty + rooms, while the General and Mrs. Brady kept silence, content + to observe him with affectionate interest. Finally the boy + came back from things to people, and he came with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + "Have you enjoyed yourself?" asked the General, smiling. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir. I never had such a toime before in my loife. 'Tis + parties as are the thing." He paused and then asked, "How + will I be goin' at it to get me a house like this?" + </p> + <p> + And then the General looked astonished. He had not yet fully + measured little Jim's ambition that stopped at nothing. + Hitherto it had been that pernicious ambition that desires, + and at the same time, lazily refuses to put forth the + exertion necessary to attain, or it had been that other + scarcely less reprehensible ambition that exerts itself + simply to outshine others, and Mrs. O'Callaghan had had good + cause to be anxious about Jim. Tonight it was the right sort + of ambition, backed by a remarkably strong will and boundless + energy. He looked up at the General with confidence and + waited to be told just how he could get such a house for + himself. + </p> + <p> + The General gazed down into the clear, unashamed depths of + little Jim's blue eyes. The attitude of the O'Callaghan's + toward him always touched him. His money had nothing to do + with it, nor had his superior social position. It was he + himself that the O'Callaghans respected, admired, loved and + venerated, and this without in the least abating their own + self-respect and independence. It was like being the head of + a clan, the General told himself, and he liked it. So now he + answered with his hand on little Jim's shoulder, "Work, my + boy, and study, work and study." + </p> + <p> + "And is that all?" questioned Jim disappointedly. "Sure and + that's like my mother tellin' me dustin' and dishwashin' was + my two first steps." + </p> + <p> + "Well, they were your first steps, Jim, because they were the + duties that lay nearest you. But it will take more than work + and study, after all." + </p> + <p> + "I thought it would, sir. This is an awful nice house." + </p> + <p> + "Would you like to walk upstairs and look about?" asked the + General. + </p> + <p> + "I would," was the eager answer. + </p> + <p> + So the General and Mrs. Brady and Jim went up. + </p> + <p> + "This is the sort of a room for my mother," declared little + Jim, after he had carefully examined the large guest chamber. + "Pat and Mike got her the summer kitchen, but I'll be gettin' + her a whole house, so I will. Sleepin' in the kitchen will do + for them that likes it. And now what's the rest of it besides + work and study?" + </p> + <p> + "Have you ever seen any poor boys smoke cigars, Jim?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "And cigarettes?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "And pipes?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "And drink beer?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "And whisky?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "And chew tobacco?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, sir." + </p> + <p> + "Those are the boys who, when they are men, are going to be + poor. Mark that, Jim. They are going to be poor." + </p> + <p> + "They won't have any house like this?" + </p> + <p> + "Not unless somebody who has worked hard gives it to them, or + unless they cheat for it, Jim." + </p> + <p> + "Huh!" said Jim. "I'm down on cheatin'. I'll lick any boy + that cheats me or tries to, and I don't want nobody to give + me nothin'." And with that little Jim cooled down to pursue + his former train of thought. + </p> + <p> + "And if I work and study and let them things alone I can have + a house like this some day?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Jim, if some misfortune does not befall you, like a + long sickness in the family, or an accident to you." + </p> + <p> + "I'm goin' to try for it," declared Jim with decision. "Them + that would rather have cigars and such than a nice house like + this can have 'em, and it's little sense they've got, too. + I'll take the house." + </p> + <p> + The General laughed. "You will take it, Jim, I don't doubt," + he said. "Come to me whenever you wish to ask any questions, + and I will answer them if I can." + </p> + <p> + "I will, sir," replied little Jim. "And when you want me to + I'll wash your dishes. I said once I wouldn't, but now I + will." + </p> + <p> + "Thank you, Jim," responded the General. + </p> + <p> + Peppery, headstrong little Jim went home that night walking + very erect. Pat and Mike were one on each side of him, but he + hardly knew it, he was so busy looking forward to the time + when he should have a house like the General's, when his + mother would pin a flower on his coat, and he should give + parties, and as many of them as he chose. + </p> + <center> + <img src="images/ill293.png" width="401" height="310" alt= + "[Illustration: Pat and Mike were one on each side of him.]"> + </center> + <p> + And of all these plans his mother heard with wonder and + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + "Your party's made a man of you, Jim," said the widow at + last. "I'd niver have thought of a party doin' it, nayther, + though I was wantin' it done bad. Your father was the man as + loiked noice things, and he'd have got 'em, too, if sickness + hadn't come to him." + </p> + <p> + And now little Jim's reward had come. At last his mother had + said he was like his father. He was as good as Pat and Mike + and Andy, and his heart swelled. + </p> + <p> + "But, Jim, dear, you'd be gettin' your house quicker if we + was all to help toward it." + </p> + <p> + "And then 'twouldn't be mine," objected Jim. + </p> + <p> + "No more it wouldn't," assented Mrs. O'Callaghan, "but + 'twould be better than livin' in the shanty years and years. + You don't want to kape livin' here till you have a foine + house loike the Gineral's, do you, Jim?" + </p> + <p> + "No," reluctantly answered the little fellow, glancing about + him. + </p> + <p> + "I knowed you didn't. For sure you're not the wan to let your + ambition run away with your sinse. A neat little house, now, + with only two b'ys to a bedroom and wan bedroom for + me—what do you say to it, Jim?" + </p> + <p> + Then and there it was settled, and that night each boy had a + different dream about the neat little house to + be—Jim's, of course, being the most extravagant. That + week the first five dollars toward it was deposited with the + General. + </p> + <p> + "And I'll be keepin' a sharp lookout on Barney and Tommie," + was Jim's unasked promise to his mother. "You've no idea what + little chaps smoke them cigarettes. I can fix it. I'll just + be lettin' the boys know that every wan of 'em that helps + Barney and Tommie to wan of them things will get a lickin' + from me." + </p> + <p> + "Is that the best way, do you think, Jim?" + </p> + <p> + "Sure and I know it is. I've seen them big boys givin' 'em to + the little wans, particular to them as their folks don't want + to use 'em. The General's down on them things, and Barney and + Tommie shan't have 'em." + </p> + <p> + "Five dollars in the bank!" exclaimed the widow. She was + surrounded by her eldest four sons, for it was seven o'clock + in the morning. "Two years we've been in town, and them two + years has put all four of you where I'm proud of you. All + four of you has sat in the father's chair for good deeds + done. What I'm thinkin' is, will Barney and Tommie and Larry + sit there, too, when their turn comes?" + </p> + <p> + "They will that!" declared Jim with authority. + </p> + <p> + "Of course they will, mother," encouraged Pat. + </p> + <p> + "They are father's boys, too," said Andy. + </p> + <p> + "And <i>your</i> boys, mother. Where else would your boys + sit?" asked Mike. + </p> + <p> + And then the widow smiled. "I belave you'll ivery wan of you + come to good," she said. "There's small bad ahead of b'ys + that has a bit of heartsome blarney for their mother, and + love in their eyes to back their words. Some has farms and + money. But if any one would be tellin' of my riches, sure all + they've got to say is, 'The Widow O'Callaghan's b'ys.'" + </p> + + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <center> + THE END. + </center> + <hr> + <p> + + </p> + + <p> + + </p> + <center> + <i>Good Reasons for the Popularity of</i><br> + The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + </center> + <blockquote> + <p> + It has succeeded by its own sterling merit and without the + assistance of exaggerated advertising, and a popularity of + this kind is always permanent. The charm of the book lies + in the human interest of the sympathetically told story; + its value in the excellent lessons that are suggested to + the youthful mind in the most unobtrusive manner. Nothing + is so distasteful to a healthy youngster as an overdose of + obvious moral suasion in his fiction. + </p> + </blockquote> + <center> + EXPERT TESTIMONY + </center> + <blockquote> + <p> + <i>Principal Ferris, of the Ferris Institute, Michigan, + expresses somewhat the same idea in a letter to the + publishers</i>: "I bought the book and read it myself, then + read it to my ten-year-old boy. He was captivated. I then + tried it on my school of 600 students—relatively + mature people. They were delighted. 'Widow O'Callaghan's + Boys' is an exceptional book. It is entirely free from the + weaknesses of the ordinary Sunday school book. The methods + used by the Widow O'Callaghan in training her boys are good + methods for training boys in the school room. The truth of + the matter is the book contains first-class pedagogy. There + are comparatively few first-class juvenile books. 'Widow + O'Callaghan's Boys' is a jewel. It is worthy of being + classed as first-class literature." + </p> + <p> + A.C. McCLURG & CO. PUBLISHERS + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <center> + <i>Newspaper Opinions of</i><br> + The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + </center> + <blockquote> + <p> + "It is a story of sturdy, level-headed effort to meet the + world on its own rather severe terms, and to win from it + success and progress. No strokes of miraculous good luck + befall these young heroes of peace; but they deserve what + they gain, and the story is told so simply, and yet with so + much originality, that it is quite as interesting reading + as are the tales where success is won by more sensational + methods. The good sense, courage, and tact of the widow + herself ought to afford inspiration to many mothers + apparently more fortunately situated. It is a book to be + heartily commended."—<i>Christian Register</i>. + </p> + <p> + "They are but simple adventures in 'The Widow O'Callaghan's + Boys,' but they are pleasant to read of. The seven boys, + whom the widow trains to be good and useful men, are as + plucky as she; and they have a good bit of Irish loyalty as + well as of the Irish brogue."—<i>The Dial</i>. + </p> + <p> + "The brave little Irishwoman's management and encouragement + of them, amid poverty and trouble, the characters of the + boys themselves, their cheerfulness, courage, and patience, + and the firm grip which they take upon the lowest rounds of + the ladder of success, are told simply and + delightfully."—<i>Buffalo Express</i>. + </p> + <p> + "The smile of pleasure at the happy ending is one that will + be accompanied by a dimness of vision in the eyes of many + readers."—<i>Philadelphia Press</i>. + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <center> + <i>Newspaper Opinions of</i><br> + The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + </center> + <blockquote> + <p> + "There is many a quaint bit of humor, many a strong, sound + lesson in manliness and womanliness which must appeal to us + in the telling. The story was probably written for + children, but it will interest older people as + well."—<i>The Living Church</i>. + </p> + <p> + "The Widow O'Callaghan is the greatest philosopher since + Epictetus, and as bright and glowing as a well-cut + gem."—<i>Topeka Capital</i>. + </p> + <p> + "The refreshing thing about the book is that its dialect + approximates to the real brogue, and is not disfigured by + the affected misspelling of English words which are + pronounced almost as correctly by the Irish as by one to + the tongue born."—<i>Detroit Journal</i>. + </p> + <p> + "This is a story that will be enjoyed by readers of every + age. It is capitally written, and deals with the struggles + of a brave little Irish widow, left in poverty with seven + boys, ranging in age from three to fifteen + years."—<i>Book News</i>. + </p> + <p> + "It is one of the best books for young people which we ever + have seen. It describes the mother love, the shrewd sense, + and the plucky perseverance of an Irish widow with seven + young children."—<i>The Congregationalist</i>. + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + + </p> + <p> + + </p> + <center> + <i>Another Use for</i><br> + The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + </center> + <blockquote> + <p> + The following news item from the Chicago Tribune of Nov. 7 + describes a unique testimonial to the practical usefulness + of a good book. "The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys," the story + referred to, is now in its eighth edition, and seems to + increase in popularity constantly: + </p> + <p> + "Barney Ryan, 12 years old and wearing a sweater twice his + size, yesterday was sentenced by Judge Tuthill to read to + his mother each night from a book designated by the court. + The boy had been arrested for smashing a store window and + stealing merchandise to the value of $200. + </p> + <p> + "'I'll let you go, Barney,' said Judge Tuthill, 'if your + mother will buy a copy of "Mrs. O'Callaghan's Boys" and + agree to make you read to her each night from it.' + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Ryan, who lives at 139 Gault court, agreed to the + stipulation." + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + + </p> + <hr> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> +<BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys, by Gulielma Zollinger + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIDOW O'CALLAGHAN'S BOYS *** + +***** This file should be named 9329-h.htm or 9329-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/3/2/9329/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, David Garcia, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +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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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 Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + +Author: Gulielma Zollinger + +Posting Date: September 26, 2012 [EBook #9329] +Release Date: November, 2005 +First Posted: September 23, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIDOW O'CALLAGHAN'S BOYS *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, David Garcia, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + + + + +The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + +BY GULIELMA ZOLLINGER + +(1904, 10th edition) + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "CAN'T I DIPIND ON YE B'YS?"] + + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + Can't I depind on ye, b'ys? + + It's your father's ways you have + + For every one carried something + + "Cheer up, Andy!" he said + + Mrs. Brady looked at the tall, slender boy + + Pat donned his apron + + "I've good news for you, Fannie," said the General + + The General makes the gravy + + Pat doing the marketing + + Pat and Mike building the kitchen + + Up on the roof sat Mike with his knife + + Barney and Tommie a-takin' care of the geese + + The merchant turned to the girl clerk + + Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished + + Little Jim became downright sulky + + In they came at that moment + + Jim made a clatter with the dishes + + Open the oven door, Jim + + Look at that Jim work + + Three cheers for Jim O'Callaghan + + Pat and Mike were one on each side of him + + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +When Mr. O'Callaghan died, after a long, severe, and expensive sickness, +he left to his widow a state of unlimited poverty and seven boys. + +"Sure, an' sivin's the parfect number," she said through her tears as +she looked round on her flock; "and Tim was the bist man as iver lived, +may the saints presarve him an' rist him from his dreadful pains!" + +Thus did she loyally ignore the poverty. It was the last of February. +Soon they must leave the tiny house of three rooms and the farm, for +another renter stood ready to take possession. There would be nothing to +take with them but their clothing and their scant household furniture, +for the farm rent and the sickness had swallowed up the crop, the +farming implements, and all the stock. + +Pat, who was fifteen and the oldest, looked gloomily out at one of the +kitchen windows, and Mike, the next brother, a boy of thirteen, looked +as gloomily as he could out of the other. Mike always followed Pat's +lead. + +When eleven-year-old Andy was a baby Pat had taken him for a pet. +Accordingly, when, two years later, Jim was born, Mike took him in +charge. To-day Pat's arm was thrown protectingly over Andy's shoulders, +while Jim stood in the embrace of Mike's arm at the other window. Barney +and Tommie, aged seven and five respectively, whispered together in a +corner, and three-year-old Larry sat on the floor at his mother's feet +looking wonderingly up into her face. + +Five days the father had slept in his grave, and still there was the +same solemn hush of sorrow in the house that fell upon it when he died. + +"And what do you intend to do?" sympathetically asked Mrs. Smith, a +well-to-do farmer's wife and a neighbor. + +The widow straightened her trim little figure, wiped her eyes, and +replied in a firm voice: "It's goin' to town I am, where there's work to +be got, as well as good schoolin' for the b'ys." + +"But don't you think that seven boys are almost more than one little +woman can support? Hadn't you better put some of them out--for a +time?"--the kind neighbor was quick to add, as she saw the gathering +frown on the widow's face. + +"Sure," she replied, 'twas the Lord give me the b'ys, an' 'twas the Lord +took away their blissid father. Do ye think He'd 'a' done ayther wan or +the other if He hadn't thought I could care for 'em all? An' I will, +too. It may be we'll be hungry--yis, an' cold, too--wanst in a while. +But it won't be for long." + +"But town is a bad place for boys, I'm told," urged the neighbor. + +"Not for mine," answered the widow quietly. "They're their father's +b'ys, an' I can depind on 'em. They moind me loightest word. Come here, +Pat, an' Moike, an' Andy, an' Jim, an' Barney, an' Tommie!" + +Obediently the six drew near. She raised Larry to her lap, and looked up +touchingly into their faces. "Can't I depind on ye, b'ys?" + +"Yes, mother, course you can," answered Pat for them all. + +A moment the widow paused to steady her voice, and then resumed, "It's +all settled. A-Saturday I goes to town to get a place. A-Monday we +moves." + +The neighbor saw that it was indeed settled, and, like a discreet woman, +did not push her counsel further, but presently took her leave, hoping +that the future might be brighter than it promised for Mrs. O'Callaghan +and her boys. + + * * * * * + +"Aise 'em up an' down the hills, Pat, the dear bastes that your father +loved!" + +Mrs. O'Callaghan and Pat were driving to Wennott behind the team that +was theirs no longer, and it was Saturday. No need to speak to Pat. The +whip rested in the socket, and he wished, for his part, that the horses +would crawl. He knew how poor they were, and he did not want to go to +town. But mother said town, and town it must be. + +Down across the railroad track, a little northeast of the depot, was a +triangular bit of ground containing about as much as two lots, and on it +had been erected a poor little shanty of two rooms. The widow knew of +this place, and she meant to try to secure it. + +"'Twill jist do for the loikes of us, Pat, for it's a low rint we're +after, an' a place quiet loike an' free from obsarvers. If it's poor ye +are, well an' good, but, says I, 'There's no use of makin' a show of +it.' For it's not a pretty show that poverty makes, so it ain't, an', +says I, 'A pretty show or none.' I see you're of my moind," she +continued with a shrewd glance at him, "an' it heartens me whin ye agree +with me, for your father's gone, an' him and me used to agree +wonderful." + +Pat's lips twitched. He had been very fond of his father. And all at +once it seemed to him that town and the shanty were the two most +desirable things in their future. + +"But, cheer up, Pat! 'Twas your father as was a loively man, d'ye moind? +Yon's the town. It's hopin' I am that our business'll soon be done." + +Pat's face brightened a little, for he found the entry into even so +small a town as Wennott a diversion. To-day he looked about him with new +interest, for here were streets and stores that were to become familiar +to him. They entered the town from the south and drove directly to its +center, where stood the courthouse in a small square surrounded by an +iron hitching-rack. Stores faced it on every side, and above the stores +were the lawyers' offices. Which one belonged to the man who had charge +of the place the widow wished to rent, she wondered, and Pat wondered, +as she stood by, while he tied the horses. + +[Illustration: "It's your father's ways you have."] + +Above the stores, too, were doctors' offices, and dentists' offices, +dress-making-shops, and suites of rooms where young couples and, in some +instances, small families lived. + +"We'll jist be inquirin', Pat. 'Tis the only way. But what to ask for, I +don't know. Shall I be sayin' the bit of a place beyant the tracks?" + +"Yes, mother. That's what you want, ain't it?" + +"Sure it is, an' nothin' else, nayther. It's your father's ways you +have, Pat. 'Twas himsilf as wint iver straight after what he wanted." + +Pat's eyes beamed and he held himself more proudly. What higher praise +could there be for him than to be thought like his father? + +It chanced that the first lawyer they asked was the right one. + +"Luck's for us," whispered the little widow. "Though maybe 'twouldn't +have been against us, nayther, if we'd had to hunt a bit." + +And then all three set out to look at the poor little property. + +"Sure, an' it suits me purpose intoirely," declared Mrs. O'Callaghan +when the bargain had been concluded. "An' it's home we'll be goin' at +wanst. We've naught to be buyin' the day, seein' we're movin' in on +Monday." + +Pat made no answer. + +"Did you see thim geese a-squawkin' down by the tracks?" asked Mrs. +O'Callaghan, as she and her son settled themselves on the high spring +seat of the farm wagon. + +Pat nodded. + +"There's an idea," said his mother. "There's more than wan in the world +as can raise geese. An' geese is nice atin', too. I didn't see no +runnin' water near, but there's a plinty of ditches and low places where +there'll be water a-standin' a good bit of the toime. An' thim that +can't git runnin' water must take standin'. Yis, Pat, be they geese or +min, in this world they must take what they can git an' fat up on it as +much as they can, too." + +The thin little woman--thin from overwork and anxiety and grief--spoke +thus to her tall son, who, from rapid growing, was thin, too, and she +spoke with a soberness that told how she was trying to strengthen her +own courage to meet the days before her. Absorbed in themselves, mother +and son paid no heed to their surroundings, the horses fell into their +accustomed brisk trot, and they were soon out on the narrow road that +lay between the fields. + +"Now, Pat, me b'y," said Mrs. O'Callaghan, rousing herself, "you're the +oldest an' I'll tell you my plans. I'm a-goin' to git washin' to do." + +The boy looked at his mother in astonishment. + +"I know I'm little," she nodded back at him, "but it's the grit in me +that makes me strong. I can do it. For Tim's b'ys an' mine I can do it. +Four days in the week I'll wash for other people, Friday I'll wash for +my own, Saturday I'll mind for 'em, an' Sunday I'll rist." + +A few moments there was silence. The +widow seemed to have no more to say. + +"An' what am I to do?" finally burst out Pat. "An' what's Mike to do? +Sure we can help some way." + +"That you can, Pat. I was comin' to that. Did you notice the biggest +room in the little house we rinted the day?" + +Pat nodded. + +"I thought you did. You're an obsarvin' b'y, Pat, jist loike your +father. Well, I belave that room will jist about hold three beds an' +lave a nate little path betwane ivery two of 'em. It's my notion we can +be nate an' clane if we are poor, an' it'll be your part to make ivery +wan of thim beds ivery day an' kape the floor clane. Larry an' mesilf, +we'll slape in the kitchen, an' it's hopin' I am you'll kape that +shoinin', too. An' then there's the coal to be got in an' the ashes to +be took out. It does seem that iverything you bring in is the cause of +somethin' to be took out, but it can't be helped, so it can't, so 'Out +with it,' says I. An' there's the dishes to be washed an'--I hate to ask +you, Pat, but do you think you could larn cookin' a bit?" + +She looked at him anxiously. The boy met her look bravely. + +"If you can work to earn it, 'tis meself as can cook it, I guess," he +said. + +"Jist loike your father, you are, Pat. He wasn't niver afraid of tryin' +nothin', an' siven b'ys takes cookin'. An' to hear you say you'll do it, +whin I've larnt you, of course, aises me moind wonderful. There's some +as wouldn't do it, Pat. I'm jist tellin' you this to let you know you're +better than most." And she smiled upon him lovingly. + +"If the most of 'em's that mean that they wouldn't do what they could +an' their mother a--washin', 'tis well I'm better than them, anyway," +returned Pat. + +"Ah, but Pat, they'd think it benathe 'em. 'Tis some grand thing they'd +be doin' that couldn't be done at all. That's the way with some, Pat. +It's grand or nothin', an' sure an' it's ginerally nothin', I've +noticed." + +A mile they went in silence. And then Mrs. O'Callaghan said: "As for the +rist, you'll all go to school but Larry, an' him I'll take with me when +I go a--washin'. I know I can foind thim in the town that'll help a poor +widow that much, an' that's all the help I want, too. Bad luck to +beggars. I'm none of 'em." + +Pat did not respond except by a kindly glance to show that he heard, and +his mother said no more till they drove in at the farm gate. + +"An' it's quite the man Pat is," she cried cheerily to the six who came +out to meet them. "You'll do well, all of you, to pattern by Pat. An' +it's movin' we'll be on Monday, jist as I told you. It's but a small +place we've got, as Pat will tell you there. Close to the north side of +the town it is, down by the railroad tracks, where you can see all the +trains pass by day an' hear 'em by night; an' there's freight cars +standin' about at all toimes that you can look at, an' they've got iron +ladders on the inds of 'em, but you must niver be goin' a-climbin' on +top of thim cars." + +At this announcement Andy and Jim looked interested, and the eyes of +Barney and Tommie fairly shone with excitement. The widow had +accomplished her object. Her boys were favorably inclined toward the new +home, and she slipped into her bedroom to shed in secret the tears she +could no longer restrain. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Sunday dawned cold and blustering--a sullen day that seemed hardly to +know which way was best to make itself disagreeable, and so tried them +all. The stock had been removed. There was no work outside for the two +oldest boys, no watching indoors by the hungry little brothers for Pat +and Mike to be through milking, and feeding, and pumping water into the +trough, so that they might all have breakfast together. Yes, there had +been a little work. The two horses which, with the wagon, had been +kindly lent them for their next day's moving were in the barn. Mike had +fed and watered them, Pat had combed them, and both had petted them. + +Many a time that day would Mrs. O'Callaghan slip out to stroke their +noses and pat their glossy necks and say in a choked voice, "Tim's +horses! Tim's horses! and we can't kape 'em!" And many a time that day +would she smooth the signs of grief from her face to go into the house +again with what cheer she could to her seven sons, who were gathered +listlessly about the kitchen stove. Many a time that day would she tell +herself stoutly, "I'll not give in! I'll not give in! I've to be brave +for eight, so I have. Brave for my b'ys, and brave for mesilf. And shall +I fret more than is good for Tim's horses whin I know it's to a kind +master they're goin', and he himsilf a helpin' us to-morrow with the +movin'? The Lord's will be done! There's thim that thinks the Lord has +no will for horses and such. And 'tis mesilf is thankful that I can't +agree with 'em." + +Occasionally, as the morning passed, one of the boys stepped to the +window for a moment, for even to glance out at flying flakes and a +wintry landscape was a relief from the depression that had settled down +upon them all. + +That was a neighborhood of churches. Seven or eight miles from any town, +it was remarkable to see three churches within half a mile of each +other. Small, plain buildings they were, but they represented the firm +convictions of the United Brethren, the United Presbyterians, and the +Methodists for many miles around. Now all these people, vary as they +might in church creeds, were united in a hearty admiration for plucky +little Mrs. O'Callaghan. They all knew, though the widow would not own +it, that destitution was at her door. The women feared that in taking +her boys to town she was taking them to their ruin, while the men +thought her course the only one, since a destitute woman can hardly run +a farm with only seven growing boys to help her. And for a day or two +there had been busy riding to and fro among the neighbors. + +The snow fell fitfully, and the wind howled in gusts, but every farmer +hitched up and took his wife and children with him, and no family went +empty-handed. For every road to every church lay straight by the widow's +door. Short cuts there were to be used on general occasions, but that +morning there was but the one road. And so it fell out that by ten +o'clock there was a goodly procession of farm wagons, with here and +there a buggy, and presently the widow's fence was lined with teams, and +the men, women, and children were alighting and thronging up the narrow +path to Mrs. O'Callaghan's door. There was no merriment, but there was a +kindly look on every face that was beautiful to see. And there were +those between whom bitterness had been growing that smiled upon each +other to-day, as they jostled burdens on the path; for every one carried +something, even the children, who stumbled by reason of their very +importance. + +The widow looked out and saw the full hands, and her heart sank. Was she +to be provided for by charity? She looked with her keen eyes into the +crowd of faces, and her heart went up into her throat. It was not +charity, but neighborliness and good will she read there. + +"I'd be wan of 'em, if somebody else was me, may the Lord bless 'em," +she said as she opened wide the door. + +In they trooped, and, for a moment, everybody seemed to be talking at +once. + +[Illustration: "For every one carried something."] + +It sometimes needs a great deal of talk to make a kind deed seem like +nothing at all. Sometimes even a great deal of talk fails to do so. It +failed to-day. + +Tears were running unheeded down the widow's face. Not even her boys +knew how everything was gone, and she left with no money to buy more. +And everybody tried not to see the tears and everybody talked faster +than ever. Then the first church bell rang out, and old and young turned +to go. There came a little lull as one after another gave the widow's +hand a cordial clasp. + +"My friends," said Mrs. O'Callaghan--she could be heard now--"my dear +friends, I thank you all. You have made my heart strong the day." + +"I call that a pretty good way to put in time on Sunday," said one man +to another as they were untying their teams. + +"Makes going to church seem worth while, for a fact," returned his +neighbor. + +Not till the last vehicle had passed from sight did the widow look round +upon what her neighbors had left her, and then she saw sufficient pantry +stores to last even seven growing boys for a month. And among the rest +of her gifts she found coal for a week. She had not noticed her sons as +she busily took account of her stock, but when she had finished she +said, "B'ys, b'ys! 'tis your father sees the hearts of these good people +this day and rej'ices. Ah, but Tim was a ginerous man himsilf! It's +hopin' I am you'll all be loike him." + +That night when the younger boys were in bed and only Pat and Mike sat +keeping her company, the widow rose from her seat, went to a box already +packed and took therefrom an account book and pencil. + +"They're your father's," she said, "but it's a good use I'll be puttin' +'em to." + +Writing was, for the hand otherwise capable, a laborious task; but no +help would she have from either of her sons. + +"May I ask you not to be spakin'?" she said politely to the two. "It's +not used to writin' I am, and I must be thinkin' besides." + +Two hours she sat there, her boys glancing curiously at her now and then +at first, and later falling into a doze in their chairs. She wrote two +words and stopped. Over and over she wrote two words and stopped. Over +and over until she had written two words and stopped fifty times. And +often she wiped away her tears. At last her task was done, and there in +the book, the letters misshapen and some of the words misspelled, were +the names of all who had come to her that morning. Just fifty there were +of them. She read them over carefully to see that she had not forgotten +any. + +"Maybe I'll be havin' the chance to do 'em a good turn some day," she +said. "I will, if I can. But whether I do or not, I've got it here in +writin', that when all was gone, and I didn't have nothin', the Lord +sint fifty friends to help me out. Let me be gettin' down in the heart +and discouraged again, and I'll take this book and read the Lord's +doin's for me. Come Pat and Moike! It's to bed you must be goin', for +we're to move to-morrow, do you moind?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +According to Mrs. O'Callaghan's plans, the moving was accomplished the +next day. There was but one load of household goods, so that the two +teams of their kind neighbor made only one trip, but that load, with the +seven boys and their mother, filled the shanty by the tracks to +overflowing. The little boys immediately upon their arrival had been all +eyes for the trains, and, failing them, the freight cars. And they had +reluctantly promised never to ascend the iron freight car ladders when +they had been in their new home only one hour. + +"Whin you're dailin' with b'ys take 'em in toime," was the widow's +motto. "What's the use of lettin' 'em climb up and fall down, and maybe +break their legs or arms, and then take their promise? Sure, and I'll +take it before the harm's done, so I will." + +Such tooting the delighted little fellows had never heard. "Barney!" +whispered Tommie, in the middle of the night, with a nudge. "Barney! +there's another of 'em!" + +"And listen to the bell on it," returned Barney. "Ain't you glad we +moved?" + +And then they fell asleep to wake and repeat the conversation a little +later. Larry was the only one who slept the night through. The rest were +waked so many times by the unaccustomed noise that one night seemed like +twenty. + +"We'll be used to it in toime," said the heavy-eyed little widow to +yawning Pat and Mike the next morning. "And the more things you get used +to in this world the better for you. I belave it's quite something loike +to be able to sleep with engines tootin' and blowin' off steam, and +bells a-ringin', and cars a-bumpin'. Even a baby can slape where 'tis +quiet, you know." + +Breakfast had been over an hour. + +"Now, Pat," said his mother, "that's not the way to make beds. Off with +them covers and make 'em over again." + +Mrs. O'Callaghan was standing in the doorway and looking in at the +roomful of beds. "I don't mane it for unkindness, Pat, but sure and the +way you've got 'em made up they look jist loike pigs' nests with covers +over 'em. There, that's better," she commented when Pat had obediently +made all the beds over again under her instructions. "You can't larn all +there is to bed-makin' in a day. 'Tis practice makes parfect, as your +copy book used to say. But I'm thinkin' you'll have it in a week, for +you're your father's son, and he was a quick wan to larn, was Tim. And +now I'll be teachin' you a bit of cookin' while I have the chance. You +must larn that as quick as you can, Pat, for a poor cook wastes a sight, +besides settin' dishes of stuff on the table that none but pigs can eat. +And in most places the pigs would get their messes, but here we've got +no pigs, and whativer you cook we've got to be eatin'. Andy was askin' +for beans for to-morrow a bit ago. What's your ideas about bakin' beans, +Pat? How would you do it?" + +Pat thought a moment. "I'd wash 'em good, and put 'em in a pan, and bake +'em," he said. + +"Sure, then, you've left out one thing. With that receipt, Pat, you'd +need a hammer to crack 'em with after they was baked. No, no, Pat, you +pick 'em over good and put 'em a-soak over night. In the mornin' you +pick 'em over again, and wash 'em good and bile 'em awhile, and pour off +the water, and bile 'em again in fresh water with jist enough salt in +it, and then you put 'em in the oven and bake 'em along with a piece of +pork that's been a-bilin' in another kittle all the toime." + +Pat looked a trifle astonished, but all he said was, "_Baked beans_ +is a queer name for 'em, ain't it?" + +Mrs. O'Callaghan smiled. "That's the short of it, Pat, jist the short of +it. The names of things don't tell half there is to 'em sometoimes. And +now for the dinner. It's belavin' I am you can cook it with me standin' +by to help you out when you get into trouble." + +Pat tied on a clean apron, washed his hands and set to work. + +"That's it! That's it!" encouraged Mrs. O'Callaghan, from time to time, +as the cooking progressed. "And I'll jist be tellin' you, Pat, you're +not so green as some girls I've seen. I'd rather have a handy b'y as an +unhandy girl any day." + +A little later she stood in the shanty door. "Come, Moike!" she called. +"Bring the little b'ys in to dinner. Pat's a-dishin' it a'ready." + +Mike had been detailed by his prudent mother as a guard to prevent his +small brothers from making too intimate acquaintance with freight cars +and engines. He was by this time pretty hungry, and he marshaled in his +squad with scant ceremony. + +A week went by and the widow was settled. Each boy was placed in his +proper class at the public school, and the mother had her coveted four +washing places. + +"I didn't come to town to be foolin' my toime away, so I didn't," said +Mrs. O'Callaghan, as she sat down to rest with a satisfied face. "Pat," +she continued, "you've done foine with the work this week. All I've to +say is, 'Kape on.' It'll kape you busy at it with school on your hands, +but, sure, them as is busy ain't in mischief, nayther." + +The next week all went well with the widow and Larry as usual, but the +boys at school found rough sailing. + +"Ah, but Mrs. Thompson's the jewel!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan on Monday +evening. "She do be sayin' that Larry's a cute little fellow, and she +has him in to play where she is, and he gets to hear the canary bird +sing, so he does. Didn't I be tellin' you, Pat, that I knew there was +them in this town would help me that way? But what makes you all look so +glum? Didn't you foind the school foine the day? Niver moind! You ain't +acquainted yet. And jist remember that iverybody has a deal to bear in +this world, and the poor most of all. If anybody does you a rale wrong, +come tell me of it. But if it's only nignaggin', say naught about it. +'Twon't last foriver, anyway, and them that's mane enough to nignag a +poor b'y is too mane to desarve attintion, so they are." + +The widow looked searchingly at her older sons. She saw them, under the +tonic of her sound counsel, straighten themselves with renewed courage, +and she smiled upon them. + +"I'll niver be makin' Tim's b'ys weak-spirited by lettin' 'em +tittle-tattle of what can't be helped," she thought. + +"Now, b'ys, heads up and do your bist!" she said the next morning as she +went to her work. + +But it was one thing to hold up their heads at the shanty, and quite +another to hold them up on the noisy, swarming campus where they knew +nobody, and where the ill-bred bullies of the school felt free to jeer +and gibe at their poor clothing and their shy, awkward ways. + +"Patrick O'Callaghan!" yelled Jim Barrows derisively. + +It was recess and the campus was overflowing with boys and girls, but +Pat was alone. "Just over from the 'ould coonthry'," he continued. "You +can tell by his clothes. He got wet a-comin', and just see how they've +shrunk!" + +The overgrown, hulking fellow lounged closer to the tall and slender +Irish boy, followed by the rough set that acknowledged him as a leader. +Some measured the distance from the ends of Pat's jacket sleeves to his +wrists, while others predicted the number of days that must elapse +before his arms burst through the sleeves. + +The spirit of the country-bred boy quailed before this coarse abuse, +which he knew not how to resent. He glanced about him, but no way of +escape offered. He was hemmed in. And then the bell struck. Recess was +over. He thought of his brothers in different grades from himself, +though in the same building. "Is there them that makes it hot for 'em +when they can?" he said anxiously to himself. "We'll have to be stayin' +more together mornin's and noons and recesses, so we will." + +But staying together did not avail. Jim Barrows and his set found more +delight in tormenting several unresisting victims than they could +possibly have enjoyed with only one. + +"Ah, but this nignaggin's hard to stand!" thought Pat a week later. He +was on his way to school. Pat was always last to get off on account of +his work. That morning Jim Barrows was feeling particularly valiant. He +thought of the "O'Callaghan tribe," as he called them, and his spirits +rose. He was seventeen and large for his age. "Them low Irish needs +somebody to keep 'em to their places," he said to himself, "and I'm the +one to do it." + +Just then he spied Andy a few steps ahead of him, Andy, who was only +eleven, and small and frail. Two strides of his long legs overtook the +little boy. A big, ugly hand laid itself firmly on the shrinking little +shoulder. Words of abuse assailed the sensitive ears, and were followed +by a rude blow. Then Jim Barrows, regarding his duty done for that time, +lounged on, leaving the little fellow crying pitifully. + +A few moments later, Pat came along, and, finding his favorite brother +crying, insisted upon knowing the reason. And Andy told him. With all +the abuse they had borne, not one of the brothers had been struck +before. As Pat listened his anger grew to fury. His blue eyes flashed +like steel. + +"Cheer up, Andy!" he said, "and run on to school. You needn't be afraid. +I can't go with you; I've business on hand. But you needn't be afraid." + +He had just ten minutes till school would call. Who was that, two blocks +off, loitering on a corner? Was it?--it was Jim Barrows. + +[Illustration: "'Cheer up, Andy!' he said."] + +With a dogged step that did not seem hurried, Pat yet went rapidly +forward. Straight up to the bully he walked and looked him firmly in the +eye. "You struck my brother Andy because you thought you could," he +said. And then, in the language of those Western boys, "he lit into +him." "'Tis Andy's fist is on you now!" he cried, while he rained blows +on the hulking coward, who did not offer to defend himself. "And there!" +with a tremendous kick as Jim Barrows turned to run, "is a taste of his +foot. Touch him again if you dare!" + +Needless to say, he didn't dare. "I hear your brother Andy's been +fighting," said the principal, as he stopped Pat the next day in the +street. "At least, there are marks of Andy's fist and Andy's foot on Jim +Barrows." His eyes twinkled as he spoke and then grew grave again. +"Fighting's a bad thing in general, but you are excusable, my lad, you +are excusable." + +Pat looked after the principal going with a quick firm step on his busy +way, and thought him the finest man in town, for, so far, nobody had +given the poor Irish boy a word of sympathy and encouragement. + +That evening Pat ventured to tell his mother. + +"And so that's what the principal said, is it?" commented Mrs. +O'Callaghan. "He's a man of sinse. Your father was a man of great sinse, +Pat. Fightin' is a bad thing, so it is. But your father's gone, and it's +you must kape the little wans from harm in his place. You'd be but a bad +brother to stand by and see any wan strike little Andy. There's some +things has got to be put a stop to, and the sooner it's done the better, +says I." Then after a pause, "I hope you larn your lessons, Pat?" + +"I do, mother." + +"I thought you would. Your father always larnt all that come handy to +him. Larnin's no load, Pat. Larn all you can." + +Now Pat, with the exception of Latin, was no whit behind other boys of +his age, for he had been sent to school in the country from the time he +was five years old. The fight being over, he gave his mind thoroughly to +his books, a thing he could not do while he did not know what to expect +from Jim Barrows and his set, and his class-standing was high. + +And now the first of April was at hand. The O'Callaghans had been a +month in town and the widow was beginning to see that she had +overestimated the purchasing power of what she could earn at four +washing places. Four dollars a week needed a supplement. How could it be +supplied? Mrs. O'Callaghan cast about in her mind. She had already +discovered that Wennott offered a poor field for employment, so far as +boys were concerned, and yet, in some way, her boys must help her. By +day, by night she thought and could hit upon nothing unless she took her +sons from school. + +"And that I'll not do," she said, "for larnin' is at the root of +everything." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Is Friday an unlucky day? You could not get Mrs. O'Callaghan to think +so, for it was upon the Friday that closed a week of anxious thinking +that Mrs. Brady called at the shanty. Neither could you get Mrs. Brady +to think so, for--but let us begin a little farther back. Hired girls, +as they were called in Wennott, were extremely scarce. Mrs. Brady was +without one--could not get one, though she had advertised long and +patiently. Now she was tired to exhaustion. Sitting in the old wooden +rocker that had been Mr. O'Callaghan's, Mrs. Brady rested a few moments +closely surrounded on all sides by the O'Callaghan furniture. + +"'Tis a bit snug, ma'am," Mrs. O'Callaghan had said when piloting her to +this seat, "but it's my belafe my b'ys don't moind the snugness of it so +much as they would if they was girls." + +Mrs. Brady mechanically agreed. + +The four walls of the kitchen were rather too close together to inclose +a bed, a wash-bench, two tubs, a cooking stove, a table, seven Windsor +chairs, the water pail, the cupboard, and the rocking-chair in which +Mrs. Brady sat, and leave anything but a tortuous path for locomotion. +The boys knew the track, however, and seldom ran up against anything +with sufficient force to disturb it or their own serenity. But there was +not a speck of dust anywhere, as Mrs. Brady noticed. + +The widow's face was a little careworn and anxious as she sat close at +hand in one of the wooden chairs listening to Mrs. Brady's explanation +of her need of help. + +"You have been recommended to me by Mrs. Thompson. Could you come to me +to-morrow, Mrs. O'Callaghan? It will be a day of sweeping and general +cleaning," she concluded. + +The widow's countenance began to brighten. She saw her way out of the +difficulty that had been puzzling her. + +"I can't come mesilf," she answered politely, "for what with my sivin +b'ys I've my own work that can't be neglected. But my son, Pat, will do +it for you. I'll come with him jist to get him started loike, for he's +niver swept a carpet, though he swapes a bare floor ilegant." + +Well, to be sure, Mrs. Brady was not overjoyed. But she saw it was Pat +or nobody, and she was very tired. So she agreed to try him. + +"And when will you have him come?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan. There was no +doubt expressed on the mother's face; no fear lest her son might not be +able to please. + +"At eight," responded Mrs. Brady. "I cannot be ready for him sooner." + +"Then together we'll be there, you may depind." + +And Mrs. Brady, on the whole dissatisfied, went on her way. "If that +boy--Pat, I think she called him--can do housework satisfactorily, he's +the only boy that I've heard of here that can," she thought. + +The next morning when the two presented themselves, Mrs. Brady, after +showing Mrs. O'Callaghan where to leave her wraps, led the way at once +to her bedroom. "Perhaps you will just make my bed for me before you go, +Mrs. O'Callaghan," she insinuated. "It has been properly aired and is +ready." + +"Oh, Pat will make it for you, ma'am," was the answer, and again Mrs. +Brady yielded. + +"Now, Pat, on with your blouse." + +The two women waited while Pat untied the bundle he carried and put on a +clean cotton blouse. + +"'Twas his father's blouse, ma'am. A bit loose now, but he'll grow to +it. He's very loike his father." + +Mrs. Brady looked at the tall, slender boy wearing his father's blouse +and his mother's apron, with an old straw hat on his head for a dust +protector, and then at the mother watching his every movement with +loving eyes, and only anxious that he might give satisfaction. And all +sense of incongruity vanished from her mind. + +"Now, Pat, show the lady what you can do." And Pat obeyed as if he were +five instead of fifteen. The dead father had trained his sons from their +babyhood to yield implicit obedience to their mother. Deftly he set to +work. He turned the mattress; he smoothed and tucked in each sheet and +cover as he put it on; he beat up the pillows, and within ten minutes +the bed was perfectly made. There was no need for Mrs. Brady to speak. +She showed her surprise and delight in her face. + +"I was thinkin' Pat could suit you, ma'am," smiled the mother. "And now, +if you've more beds, maybe Pat had better make 'em before the dust of +the swapin' is on him." + +"I have no more this morning," responded Mrs. Brady courteously. + +[Illustration: "Mrs. Brady looked at the tall, slender boy."] + +"Then, Pat, there's the broom." Then she turned to Mrs. Brady. "Now, +ma'am, what's your ideas about swapin'? There's them that says, 'Swape +aisy and not be gettin' the wools off the carpet.' But them wools don't +many of 'em come off the carpet. There's a plinty of 'em comes on bare +floors that ain't swept regular. I says, 'A vigorous swapin' and no +light brushin' except by a lady loike yoursilf as hasn't got strength.'" + +"Those are my ideas, too," said Mrs. Brady as with an air of +satisfaction she began to spread the dust covers over her bed. + +All day Pat swept and dusted and wiped paint and window panes, and at +night he went home with seventy-five cents in his pocket. + +The widow was getting supper, but she worked mechanically, for her heart +was in her ears, and they were listening for Pat's step. The brothers, +stowed here and there in chinks between the pieces of furniture, watched +with eager eyes their mother's movements, and sniffed the savory odors +that escaped from a perfectly clean saucepan in capable hands. But no +boy lounged on the bed, nor even leaned against it, and no one sat in +the father's chair. To sit there meant special honor at the hands of the +family. + +"And it's Pat will sit in the rocking-chair and rest himsilf this +avenin'," cried Mrs. O'Callaghan, returning to her cooking from a brief +trip to the door. "It's Pat'll be bringin' home money the night; honest +money that he's earned." + +The little boys appeared impressed, and on Mike's face came a look of +determination that led his mother to say, "All in good toime, Moike. +You're as willin' as Pat any day. I know that. And the way you look +after the little b'ys, your father himsilf couldn't do better." + +And then Pat came stepping in. + +"Did she praise you, Pat?" cried the little woman as she dished up the +supper. She was hungry for appreciation of her boy. + +"She did that. She said, 'Patrick, you're elegant help, and will you +come again next Saturday?" + +"And what did you tell her?" + +"I told her I would, and let that Jim Barrows keep a civil tongue in his +head when he hears of it, or I'll be teaching him another lesson. He'll +not be throwin' it up to me that it's girl's work I'm doin' if he knows +what's best for him." + +"Listen to me, Pat," said his mother, soberly. "I'll be tellin' you now +my plans for you so you'll not be runnin' agin 'em. It's to be a +gintleman you are, and gintlemen don't fight jist because some Jim +Barrows of a fellow says tauntin' words to 'em. You had to kape him off +Andy, but moindin' his impudence to yoursilf is another thing." + +For the first time in his life Pat looked unconvinced of his mother's +wisdom, and she went on soothingly, "But sure and I don't belave he'll +be sayin' a word to you, Pat. And anyway you know how many of the +blissid saints and angels was women on the earth, and how it was their +work to kape things clane and pleasant for them they loved. And that +ain't a work to be ashamed of by girl or b'y." + +The little boys busily eating had seemed not to notice. Only Mike had +looked on with interest. But into all their hearts had sunk the lesson +that gentlemen did not fight. + +"Are we all to be gintlemen?" asked Barney looking up when his plate was +quite empty. + +"Ivery wan of you. What should your father's b'ys be but gintlemen and +him the best man as iver lived?" + +It was not to be expected that in any place service such as Pat's would +be willingly done without, least of all in Wennott. The more Mrs. Brady +thought of it, the smaller and more unsatisfactory did Saturday appear, +and on Friday morning she went again to the shanty. + +"And I hope you're not come to say you've changed your moind about +wantin' Pat to-morrow," said Mrs. O'Callaghan when civil greetings had +been exchanged and Mrs. Brady sat once more in the rocker. + +"In one sense I have changed my mind," answered Mrs. Brady with a smile. +"I want Pat to-morrow, but I want him all the other days of the week, +too." + +The widow was silent. She had not planned so far as this. What would Pat +say? Would he do it? + +"I will give him his board and lodging and a dollar a week to help me +Saturday and Sunday, and before and after school the other days of the +week. Saturday he would have to work all day, of course, but Sunday he +would have almost nothing to do," said Mrs. Brady. "The washing and +ironing I put out," she added as Mrs. O'Callaghan still hesitated. + +"You're very koind, ma'am," responded the widow after a pause. "I hope +Pat'll go to you. I'll ask him." + +"What makes you think he might not like to come?" inquired Mrs. Brady, +anxious in her turn. + +"Well, you see, ma'am, 'tis girl's work entoirely you want him to do. +And Pat's been put on and made fun of almost more than he can bear since +we moved to Wennott. Sure and them b'ys--I'd call 'em imps, only they're +big for imps, bein' bigger and stouter than Pat himsilf--they sets on +him and foretells when his arms is goin' to burst through his sleeves +and such as that, loike an almanac, ma'am. And him a-loikin' nice +clothes as well as any one, only he can't get 'em because it's poor we +are, ma'am. Not that there's anything wrong about that. 'Tis the Lord's +will that it's so, and we're doin' our best with it. But Pat's young. He +didn't mean to tell me of it, but his moind bein' full of it, it slipped +out. + +"Pat, he done as I told him, and come to you a-Saturday, and he'd kape +on comin' Saturdays, but I can't tell him he must go out to service +loike a girl, when I know what thim b'ys will have in store for him. I +must jist ask him, do you see? And what he'll say, I can't tell. He's +mighty brave. Maybe he'll come. I've been tellin' him he's not to be +lickin' that Jim Barrows if he is impudent to him." + +"Does Pat fight?" asked Mrs. Brady doubtfully. "He seemed so amiable." + +"And pleasant he is," cried the widow earnestly. "'Twas not for himsilf +he fought, do you understand. 'Twas because Jim Barrows hurt Andy's +feelin's and struck him besides. Andy's my third son, ma'am. He's only +eleven, and not strong ayther. And Pat, he loves him better, I belave, +than he does all the rest of the b'ys put together." + +"Oh!" said Mrs. Brady with a relieved air. + +"But havin' got a taste of makin' Jim Barrows kape off Andy has sort of +got him in the notion of not takin' nothin' off him, do you see? But +it's his father has a good influence over him yet. Tim's in his grave, +ma'am, but it's meanin' I am he shall still rule his b'ys. And he does, +too." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +There was a certain part of Wennott which its own residents were wont to +think was _the_ part of town in which to live. Sometimes in +confidence they even congratulated themselves over their own good +fortune and commiserated the rest of the town who lived upon the flat +lands. + +The rest of the town were not discontented in the least. They thought +northeast Wennott was a little far out, themselves. And it was a good +three-quarters of a mile from the public square. But the knolls were not +to be had any nearer, and those who owned them felt repaid for the walk +it took to reach them. The places were larger, the air was fresher and +sweeter, and there was only one knoll to rent among them all. Beyond the +knolls were the northeast suburbs, built upon as flat land as any the +town afforded, and farther on stretched rolling prairie, picturesquely +beautiful. It was upon one of the knolls that Mrs. Brady lived, in a +square house of an old-fashioned build, having a hall running through +the center with rooms on each side. It fronted the west. To the left, as +one entered, was the dining-room; to the right, the parlor, whose always +open folding doors made the pleasant sitting-room a part of itself. +There was a bay window in the east end of the sitting-room, and one's +first glance in at the parlor door from the hall always traveled past +everything else to rest on the mass of green and blossoms in the bay +window. For Mrs. Brady was an expert at floriculture. Here and there on +the lawn, not crowded, but just where it seemed natural to find them, +were rosebushes of different varieties that waited patiently all winter +for the appreciation of their beauty which summer was sure to bring, and +among them were some of the kinds Mrs. Brady had loved in the Eastern +home of her girlhood. + +One stepped out from the south door of the sitting-room to find narrow +beds for all sorts of summer blooms hugging the house, and looked about +to see farther on occasional other beds. Everything was represented in +her flower garden, from sweet alyssum and mignonette to roses and +lilies, just as a little of all sweet qualities mingled themselves in +her disposition. She was no longer young, and she had come to be quite +frail. + +"I hope he will come," she said as she let herself in at the front door. + +From the shanty she had come the back way, a part of which followed the +railroad track, and the walk had not been very long, but wearily she +sank down to rest. + +"He's such a handy boy," she thought. "If he shouldn't come!" + +And down at the shanty Mrs. O'Callaghan, as she washed vigorously for +her boys, was thinking, too. + +"It's wishin' I am 'twas avenin'," she cried at last, "and then 'twould +be off my moind, so 'twould. I can't tell no more than nothin' what +Pat'll be sayin'. And what's worse, I can't tell what I want him to be +sayin'. 'Tis the best I want him to be doin', but what's the best? If he +don't go, there's a chance gone of earnin' what we need. And if he does +go, I'll be at my wits' ends to kape him from settlin' that Jim Barrows. +It's widows as has their trials when they've sivin b'ys on their hands, +and all of 'em foine wans at that." + +It was a very uncertain day. Cloud followed sunshine, and a sprinkle of +rain the cloud, over and over again. + +"Sure an' the weather an' me's as loike as two peas the day. We're +nayther of us to be depinded on, so we ain't, not knowin' what we want. +Look at my clothes not dryin' an' me a-frettin'. What's the use of it +all? Let Pat do as he will, I'll think no more of it." + +The little woman was capable. She could work; she could control her +boys, though sometimes, when it seemed best, she could give control of +them into their own hands, and she could govern her thoughts with some +measure of success. So, casting her worries behind her, she went about +brightly and cheerily as if nothing of an anxious nature lay before her, +amusing Larry with chatter suited to his years, and making him contented +to stay indoors while she toiled. For Mrs. O'Callaghan was as young as +her youngest child, and as old as her oldest. It was easy for the boys +to get close to mother. Only once did her mind revert to the forbidden +theme. Dinner was over and she stood watching Pat, who was fast +disappearing on his way to school. + +"There's toimes to be spakin', and toimes to be kapin' still," she said. +"Niver a word must I be sayin' till the rest of 'em's abed, and it's +hard waitin', so it is. It's my belafe that's what makes some b'ys so +unruly--takin' 'em at the wrong toime. Sure and b'ys has their feelin's +loike the rest of the world. Spake to 'em by their lone silves when +you've aught to say to 'em. There's niver a man of 'em all, not even +Gineral Brady himsilf, would loike bein' bawled at in a crowd about +somethin' that needed thinkin' over. And Gineral Brady's the foine man, +too. Big and straight he walks, a-wearin' his plug hat, and old and +young is plazed to meet him. Well, his business is done. There's no more +foightin'. But he was a brave foighter! My Tim saw him at it more'n +wanst. Tim was a long way behind the Gineral, but Tim, he done his duty, +too. Sure some has to be behoind, and if that's your place, 'Make that +place respicted,' says I." + +She turned from the door and went back to her work. + +"There's some as thinks the Gineral has a business," she went on. +"There's them that calls him a banker. But what sort of a business is +that now? Jist none at all. All he does is to take in the money, and put +it in a safe place where nobody won't steal it, and hand it out again +when it's needed, and lend a little now and then to somebody that wants +it and is loikely to be payin' it back again. Anybody could do that. +There's no work to it. And, by the same token, it's no business. When +the war was over, the Gineral's business was done, I say, and it's +hopin' I am it'll soon be evenin', for I'm wantin' to hear what Pat'll +say." + +It was, in the main, a quiet supper at the shanty, and, for the most +part, a silent evening. One by one the boys went to bed, and Pat and his +mother were left alone. + +"Pat," began Mrs. O'Callaghan, in a tremble of eagerness and +apprehension, "who do you think was here the mornin'?" + +"Sure and I couldn't guess, mother dear. You'll have to be tellin' me." + +"And so I will," was the prompt reply. "'Twas Mrs. Gineral Brady, then. +And she loikes your work that well, Pat, she wants you to go to her +house to live." + +At first the boy looked bewildered. Then a light of understanding +flashed over his face, and he blushed as if with shame. To go out to +service like a girl! He couldn't do it, and he wouldn't. But even in his +fierce young indignation he restrained himself. He had suffered so much +of late that he was growing very careful about inflicting suffering upon +others, especially upon his mother. He covered his eyes with his hand +and sat quite still for a few moments before he inquired, "What did you +tell her?" + +"I told her I'd ask you, Pat. Only that." The boy wheeled round in the +old Windsor chair in which he sat, threw his arms over the top of its +back and buried his face. They had been in town now six weeks. Pat had +learned by his experience in cooking how fast supplies went in a large +family. Two weeks before, the generous contributions of their country +neighbors had given entirely out, and Pat, as marketer, had learned how +much money it took to buy with. Four dollars a week would not, could +not, support the family even in summer time. Hard knowledge was this for +a boy of fifteen to have, and hardly had it been learned. If he went, +there was Jim Barrows and his set with more jeers and insults which he +must not avenge. If he did not go--all at once he remembered that ride +home from Wennott with his mother, when he had asked her what he could +do and what Mike could do to help. Was this the answer? Was he to live +out like a girl, and Mike to take his place with the work at home? + +He lifted his face, and his blue eyes had a pleading look that went to +the widow's heart. "Mother, tell me what I must do," he said. + +"I can't, Pat dear. You must say for yoursilf." + +There was loving sympathy in look and tone, but the little woman's +determination was clear. Pat must decide for himself. And the young head +went down again. + +Ten long minutes went by before Pat spoke again, and his voice had a +muffled sound, for his face was not lifted. "Mother, are you willin'?" +he asked. + +"I am, Pat, my son." + +Heavier the dreadful prospect pressed upon him. He could trust his +mother, and she was willing. Then it must be right. + +More minutes went by. Pat had a telltale voice. Clear and musical, it +had ever revealed to the mother the heart of her son. And its sadness +and submission smote upon her as he said at last, "You may tell her I'll +go, mother." + +"I always knowed you was brave, Pat," said Mrs. O'Callaghan. Then a +rough little hand was laid on his head--the hand of an honest +washerwoman--and in a reverent tone came the words, "Your father was +brave." + +The boy looked up gratefully. To be likened to his father was dear to +him. + +"Yes, Pat," went on Mrs. O'Callaghan. "'Most anybody can take a noice +payin' job as suits 'em, but it's the brave wans that takes the work +they don't want to do and does it good, too." + +And then the mother who had the courage to battle cheerfully for her +children, and the son who had the courage to do what seemed best in the +face of contempt and ridicule, went to their rest. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The next morning Pat stepped out into the kitchen and donned his apron +in a downcast mood. The uplift of his mother's praise had passed, and +the fact remained that to-day he was to go out to service like a girl. +The little boys were up and stowed here and there waiting for breakfast. +Some little boys cannot be kept in bed mornings as long as their elders +could wish, and the widow's little boys were of that kind. + +"Get up, if you want to," was Mrs. O'Callaghan's counsel to her youngest +sons, "but see to it you don't get under Pat's feet. Nayther must you be +runnin' out doors, for Moike to be haulin' you in when breakfast's +ready." + +These orders shut the little fellows into a narrow space, and they were +always eager for the morning meal to be over. Andy and Jim were not in +such a hurry to rise, having reached the age when boys need a deal of +persuasion to get them up. + +"They'll be along in a minute," thought the widow. "Here comes Moike." + +[Illustration: "Pat donned his apron."] + +Along they were in a minute, as their mother had predicted. The little +woman was fond of effect. "There's toimes when it's the thing to spake +before 'em all," she thought. "This is wan of 'em. Pat needs heartenin' +a bit." + +Then with an air of authority she said: "Pat, off with your apron!" + +The rest were eyes and ears at once as their mother meant they should +be, but Pat only stared in surprise. Some way he felt stupid this +morning. + +"Off with your apron," repeated Mrs. O'Callaghan, "and sit you down in +the father's chair. I get the breakfast this mornin'." + +With a shamefaced blush Pat obeyed, amid the wondering looks of his +brothers. + +"You'll be sayin' farewell to Pat this mornin'," went on the widow, her +glance traveling from one to another. "It's lavin' us he is to go to +Gineral Brady's to live. 'Tis hard toimes we've been havin' and harder's +before us. Pat seen it and he's a-goin' to help. He'll be gettin' his +board and he'll still be goin' to school." + +At this Pat started. + +"Did you think I'd be willin' for you to lave school, my son?" asked the +mother tenderly. + +Then turning to the rest once more, "And it's a dollar a week he'll be +gettin' besides. He's his father's son, and he's got a head older than +his years, or he'd niver 'a' been the brave b'y he is, nor seen nothin' +to be brave about, nayther. And he'll be comin' to visit us when Mrs. +Brady can spare him, and that'll be when his work's done, of course; and +always he sits in his father's chair." + +Redder and redder flushed Pat's cheeks, seeing which the widow adroitly +drew the general attention to her second son. + +"And here's the chance for Moike," she said, going busily on with her +work. "Will you be makin' the beds and kapin' things shinin' and doin' +the cookin' for us all?" + +"You know I will, mother." + +The little woman smiled. "Sure and I knowed you would. I jist asked you. + +"Now, b'ys, there's what they call permotions. Often and often have I +heard your father spake of 'em. We're havin' some of 'em this mornin'. +Pat, he goes to earnin' money and his board. That gives Moike a chance +to step up into his place, do you see? That's what permotions is for, +I'm thinkin'--to give the wans behoind you a chance. Always step up when +you honestly can, b'ys, if for no other reason, to give the wan behoind +you a chance. There's no tellin' what he can do till he gets a chance, +do you see? Tim, he wouldn't 'a' stayed foightin' a private if the wan +ahead of him had only done his duty and stepped up. But some folks niver +does their duty, and it's hopin' I am you'll none of you be loike 'em. +It's a noice place Pat's goin' to, so 'tis. There's a queer little house +with a glass roof on jist across the street from it, and, by the same +token, it's a wonder how they can kape a glass roof on it. There's them +that can't even kape their window glass in, so there is, but goes +a-stuffin' up the holes with what they can get. It's full of plants, so +'tis, a sort of a garden house where they sells flowers for weddin's and +funerals and such, and maybe Pat'll be showin' you through it some day +when he gets acquainted. I'm told anybody can see it. Grane house, I +belave they calls it, but why anybody should call a garden house a grane +house I can't tell, for sure and it's not a bit of a grane idea to sell +flowers if you can find them that has the money to buy 'em." + +At this, quiet little Andy, who was fond of his book, glanced up. "Maybe +they call it greenhouse because it's full of green things," he said. + +The widow nodded two or three times in a convinced manner. "To be sure. +That's the reason," she said. "And it's proud I am to have for my third +son a b'y that can give the reasons of things. And there's another +permotion we was forgettin'. Andy'll take Moike's place, so he will, and +look after the little b'ys. A b'y that can give reasons can look after +'em wonderful, so he can, if he don't get so full of his reasons that he +forgets the little b'ys entoirely. But Andy'll not be doin' that. I +niver told you before, but your father's favorite brother was named +Andy, and a great wan he was for reasons, as I've heard. + +"Now breakfast's ready, so 'tis. I took my toime to it, for permotions +always takes toime. There's them that wants permotion in such a hurry +that they all but knocks over the wans in front of 'em. And that's bad, +so 'tis. And no way at all, nayther. Jist kape yoursilf ready to step, +and when the toime comes step aisy loike a gintleman, and then folks +rej'ices with you, instead of feelin' of their bumps and wonderin' at +your impudence. And the worst of them koind of tryin's after permotions +is that it hurts them behoind you, for they're jist a-breathin' aisy, do +you see, when back you come a-tumblin' a-top of 'em, and lucky you are +if you don't go past 'em, and land nobody knows where." + +Seldom were the little boys so deluged with wisdom beyond their power of +comprehension, but this was a special occasion, and as the general +effect of the widow's remarks was to stir up in all a determination to +do their best just where they were, her aim had been accomplished. Pat, +in particular, was encouraged. Perhaps he was in line of promotion. He +hoped it might come soon. + +"Now, Moike," cried Mrs. O'Callaghan when Pat was gone, "here's a chance +for you. It's lucky I am to be at home the day. I'll be teachin' you a +bit of all sorts, so I will, for you've everything to larn, Moike, and +that's the truth, barrin' the lay of the tracks, and the switches, and +the empty cars a-standin' about, and how to kape the little b'ys from +hurtin' thimsilves." + +Mike looked rather disheartened. + +"You niver let 'em get hurted wanst, did you, Moike? And that's doin' +well, too. I hope Andy'll be comin' up to you in that." + +So encouragingly did his mother smile upon him as she said these last +words that he visibly brightened. He was not tall and slender like Pat, +but rather short and of a sturdy build. And he tied on his apron with +determination in his eye. + +"Do you know what you look loike, Moike?" + +The boy glanced at her inquiringly. + +"You look loike you was goin' to make short work of your larnin' and +come up to Pat before you know it. I niver knowed a b'y to get the worst +of it that looked that way out of his eye. It's a sort of 'do it I will, +and let them stop me that can' look, Moike dear. Not that anybody wants +to stop you, and it's an ilegant look, too, as I've often seen on your +father's face when he had a hard job ahead of him." + +By this time Mike was ready for anything. He really knew more than his +mother gave him credit for, having furtively watched Pat more than once. + +"Well, well, Moike!" exclaimed Mrs. O'Callaghan when the last bed was +made. "That's a sight better as Pat's first try at bed-makin'. If he was +here he'd say that wasn't so bad nayther, and it's yoursilf as knows +Pat's an ilegant bed-maker. If you'd seen him astonishin' Mrs. Gineral +Brady you'd 'a' seen a sight now. I was proud that day." + +Mike smiled with satisfaction and reached for the broom. His mother said +nothing, but not a move escaped her critical eye. As far as the beds +could be moved, they were moved, and around them and under them went +Mike's busy broom. Mike was warm-blooded, and it was a pretty red-faced +boy that stood at last before his mother with the dustpan in his hand. +There was strong approval on the little woman's face. + +"Pat himsilf couldn't 'a' beat that. It's my belafe you've got a gift +for swapin'," she said. "I can leave home to go to my washin' with an +aisy mind, I see, and with no fears of chance callers foindin' dirty +floors and mussy-lookin' beds a-disgracin' me. If widows is iver lucky, +which I doubt, Moike, I'm lucky this far. I've got some wonderful foine +sons, so I have." + +Mike, at this, beamed with the consciousness that he was one of the sons +and a fully appreciated one, too. A long time he had stood in the shadow +of Pat's achievements. This morning he was showing what he could do. + +"This permotion is pretty foine," said Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Moike, my b'y, +you have stepped up aisy loike a gintleman into Pat's place, and now +let's see you cook." + +Mike looked crestfallen at once. "I can't cook, mother," he said. "Not +the least in the world. Often and often I've watched Pat, but I never +could get the hang of it." + +The widow was silent a moment, + +"Well, then!" she cried, "you've got the hang of bein' an honest b'y, +and not pretindin' to do what you can't do, and that's better as bein' +the best cook in the world. Niver do you pretind, Moike, not because +there's always somebody about to foind you out, but because pretindin's +mean. I'd have no pride left in me if I could think I had a pretindin' +b'y about the house. And now, Moike, I'll teach you to cook. It's my +belafe you can larn it. Why, Pat didn't know nothin' about it when he +begun, and now he can cook meat and potatoes and such better as many a +doless girl I've seen. You think Pat's cookin' tastes pretty good, don't +you, Moike?" + +"I do, mother," said Mike earnestly and without a tinge of jealousy in +his tone. He loved and admired Pat with all his heart. + +"You can larn it, too, if you only think so," encouraged Mrs. +O'Callaghan. + +"There's them that think's that cookin's a special gift, and they're +right, too. But there's things about cookin' that anybody can attind to, +such as havin' kettles and pans clean, and kapin' the fire up when it's +needed, and not roastin' a body's brains out when it ain't needed. Yes, +and there's other things," she continued with increasing earnestness. +"There's them as thinks if they've a book or paper stuck about handy, +and them a-poppin' down to read a bit ivery now and then, it shows that +cookin's beneath 'em. And then the meat burns or it sogs and gets tough, +the potatoes don't get the water poured off of 'em in toime, and things +biles over on the stove or don't bile at all, at all, and what does all +that show, Moike? Not that they're above cookin', but that they're +lackin' in sinse. For a sinsible person always pays attintion to what +they're at, but a silly is lookin' all ways but the right wan, and ten +to wan but if you looked inside their skulls you'd foind 'em that empty +it would astonish you. Not that I'm down on readin', but that readin' +and cookin' hadn't ought to be mixed. Now, Moike, if any of these things +I've been tellin' you of happens to your cookin', you'll know where to +put the blame. Don't say, 'I wasn't made to cook, I guess'. That's what +I wanst heard a silly say when she'd burnt the dinner. But jist +understand that your wits must have been off a piece, and kape 'em by +you nixt toime. But what's that n'ise?" + +She stepped to the door. A short distance off Jim was trying to get +something away from Barney, who was making up in roars what he lacked in +strength. Up went Mrs. O'Callaghan's hands to curve around her mouth and +form a speaking trumpet. + +"Jim, come here!" she called. + +Jim began to obey, and his mother, leaving Mike inside to think over her +remarks on cooking, stood waiting for his lagging feet. + +"Well, Jim," she said when he stood before her, "it's ashamed of you I +am, and that's the truth. A big b'y loike you, noine years old, +a-snatchin' something from little Barney and him only sivin! It's my +belafe your father niver snatched nothin' from nobody." + +At this Jim's countenance fell, for, in common with all his brothers, he +shared a strong desire to be like his father. + +"You may go now, but remember you'll be takin' Andy's place some day, +a-carin' for the little wans." + +The idea of taking Andy's place, even at so indefinite a period as +sometime, quite took the edge off his mother's rebuke, and Jim went +stepping off with great importance. + +"Jim!" she called again, and the boy came back. + +"That's a terrible swagger you've got on you, Jim. Walk natural. Your +father was niver wan of the swaggerin' sort. And jist remember that +takin' care of the little b'ys ain't lordin' it over 'em nayther." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +"If I'm goin', I may as well go," thought Pat as he left his mother's +door on that mid-April Saturday morning. And away he went on the +railroad track at a rapid pace that did not give him much time to think. + +It was the General himself who answered his knock that had a strange +mixture of the bold and the timid. The General had been listening for +that knock. He had been wondering what sort of a boy it was who was +willing to go out by the day to do housework. The knock, told him. "He +hates to come, but he comes, nevertheless," thought the General. And he +arose and opened the door. + +He looked into the boy's face and he saw a determined mouth and pleading +eyes. + +"Grit," thought the General. But he only said, "Come in, my boy." + +"Yes, sir, if you please, sir, will you be tellin' Mrs. General Brady +that I'm here, sir?" was Pat's answer as, with flushing cheeks, he +stepped awkwardly into the room. What a fine soldierly bearing the +General had, and how he must despise a boy who could turn himself into a +girl! + +"Sit down, Pat," said the General pleasantly. "That's your name, isn't +it? I'll tell Mrs. Brady presently." + +Pat sat down. He could not imagine the General with an apron on doing +housework, though that was what he was trying to do while he sat there +with cheeks that grew redder and more red. + +"Mrs. Brady tells me you are excellent help, Pat," went on the General. + +"Yes, sir," stammered Pat. + +"Have you come to stay, or just for the day?" + +The boy's eyes were almost beseeching as he answered, "I've come to +stay, sir." What would the General think of him now? + +"I suppose you like housework, then?" + +"No, sir," came the answer in a low tone. "But father's gone, and +there's mother and the boys and there's no work for boys in Wennott +unless they turn themselves into girls." + +"Better turn into a girl than into a tough from loafing on the streets, +Pat," said the General heartily, as he rose from his chair. "I'll tell +Mrs. Brady you are here." + +There was not so much in what the genial master of the house had said, +but Pat's head lifted a little. Perhaps the General did not despise him +after all. + +"I've good news for you, Fannie," said the General as he entered the +dining-room. "Your boy has come, and come to stay." + +"Oh, has he? I'm so glad." And she smiled her pleasure. "He's such a +nice boy." + +"He's a brave boy," said her husband with emphasis. "That boy has the +grit of a hero. He may come into our kitchen for a time, but, please +God, he shan't stay there. I know what he will have to take from those +street boys for doing the best he can for his mother and younger +brothers and he knows it, too. I saw it in his face just now. The boy +that has the moral courage to face insult and abuse deserves to rise, +and he shall rise. But, bless me! I'm getting rather excited over it, I +see." And he smiled. + +[Illustration: "'I've good news for you, Fannie,' said the General."] + +"Perhaps, Tom, you could shield him a little in the street," suggested +Mrs. Brady. + +"I'll do my best, my dear." And then the General went away to his bank, +and Mrs. Brady went into the kitchen to see Pat. + +Pat was sensitive. There was something in the General's manner as he +left him, something in Mrs. Brady's tones as she directed him, that +restored his self-respect. + +"If only I never had to be goin' on the street till after dark, +'twouldn't be so bad," thought Pat. "But there's school, and there's Jim +Barrows. I'll just have to stand it, that's what I will. Mother says I'm +brave, but it's not very brave inside I'm feelin'. I'd run if I could." + +But Pat was to learn some day, and learn it from the General's lips, +that the very bravest men have been men who wanted to run and +_wouldn't_. + +At General Brady's there was light lunch at noon and dinner at five, +which was something Pat had already become accustomed to from having to +do his own family cooking for the last six weeks. He was pretty well +used to hurrying home the moment the afternoon session of school was +over to prepare the meal of the day for his hungry brothers and his +tired mother. On Monday, therefore, he came flying into the Brady +kitchen at fifteen minutes of five. There was the dinner cooking, with +no one to watch it. Where was Mrs. Brady? Pat did not stop to inquire. +His own experience told him that that dinner needed immediate attention. + +Down went his books. He flew to wash his hands and put on his apron. He +turned the water off the potatoes in a jiffy. "Sure and I just saved +'em, and that's all!" he cried, as he put them to steam dry. + +"I'll peep in the oven, so I will," he said. "That roast needs bastin', +so it does." + +He heard the General come in. + +"There's a puddin' in the warm oven," he continued, "but I don't know +nothin' about that. It's long since we've had puddin' at home. I'll just +dress the potatoes and whip 'em up light. I can do that anyway, and give +the roast another baste. It's done, and I'll be settin' it in the warm +oven along with the puddin'. For how do I know how Mrs. Brady wants her +gravy? Where is she, I wonder?" + +"Why, Pat," said a surprised voice, "can you cook?" + +"Not much, ma'am," answered Pat with a blush. "But I can sometimes keep +other people's cookin' from spoilin'." + +"Well said!" cried the General, who was determined to make Pat feel at +ease. "Fannie, give me an apron, and I'll make the gravy. I used to be a +famous hand at it in the army." + +Pat stared, and then such a happy look came into his eyes that the +General felt a little moisture in his own. + +"How that boy has been suffering!" he said to himself. + +"I was detained by a caller," explained Mrs. Brady. "The dinner would +surely have been spoiled if Pat had not come just when he did." + +And then Pat's cup was full. He blushed, he beamed. Here was the +General, the man whom his mother had held up to Pat's admiration, with +an apron on, cooking! And Mrs. Brady said that he had saved the dinner. + +"Let Jim Barrows say what he likes," he thought. "I'd not like to be +eatin' any of his cookin'." + +Cooking had risen in Pat's estimation. + +"She asked me, 'Will you please not be nickin' or crackin' the dishes, +Pat?' And says I, 'I'll be careful, Mrs. Brady.' But I wonder what makes +'em have these thin sort of dishes. I never seen none like 'em nowhere +else." + +Dinner was over and Pat was alone in the kitchen. + +[Illustration: The General makes the gravy.] + +"But the General makin' the gravy was fine, and sure I never tasted no +better gravy neither. I wish I could just be lettin' 'em know at home. +Mike will have to be turnin' into a girl, too, one of these days, and it +might ease him a bit if he could know the General wasn't above cookin'. +My mother said I'd be comin' to visit 'em when my work was done, if Mrs. +Brady could spare me." + +A half-hour later a trim-looking boy presented himself at the +sitting-room door. + +"Come in, Pat," invited the General, looking up from his paper with a +smile. + +Pat smiled back again, but it was to Mrs. Brady that he turned as he +entered the room. + +"Mrs. Brady, ma'am," he said, "the dishes are done and the kitchen made +neat. Will you have me to be doin' something more for you this evenin'?" + +"No, Pat," replied Mrs. Brady kindly. "Your work, for to-day, is done. +You may take off your apron." + +"Yes, ma'am. Would you kindly be lettin' me go home a little while +then?" + +Pat's look was eager but submissive. + +"Certainly, Pat," was the reply. "Take the kitchen key with you." + +"Thank you, kindly, ma'am," returned Pat gratefully. And with another +smile for the General, who had not resumed his reading, the boy left the +room, and, shortly after, the house. + +"Listen!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan, with uplifted ringer. And the +rollicking talk about her ceased on the instant. + +"'Tis Pat's step I hear outside, and here he is, sure enough. Now, b'ys, +don't all of you be on him at wanst. Let him sit down in the father's +chair." + +Pat, feeling the honor paid him, and showing that he felt it, sat down. +The little boys crowded around him with their news. Jim and Andy got as +near to him as they could for furniture, while Mike looked at him from +the farther side of the tiny room with a heart full of love and +admiration in his eyes. They had not seen Pat since Saturday morning +except at school that day, and that was not like having him at home with +them. + +"And how does your work come on?" asked his mother as soon as she could +get in a word. + +"Fine," said Pat. "'Tis an elegant place." Then, with an air that tried +hard to be natural, he added, "The General himself made the gravy +to-day." + +"What!" exclaimed his mother. "The Gineral!" + +"He did," said Pat. "He put on one of Mrs. Brady's aprons, and 'twas +fine gravy, too." + +The widow looked her astonishment. "And do you call that foine?" she +demanded at last. "The Gineral havin' to make his own gravy? What was +you a-doin', Pat?" + +"I was helpin' Mrs. Brady with the puddin' sauce and dishin' up. 'Twas +behind we all was, owin' to a caller, and Mrs. Brady said if it hadn't +been for me the dinner would have been spoiled sure. I got there just in +time." + +"The Gineral," said Mrs. O'Callaghan, looking about her impressively, +"is the handsomest and the foinest gintleman in the town. Iverybody says +so. And the Gineral ain't above puttin' an apron on him and makin' +gravy. Let that be a lesson to you all. The war's over. You'll none of +you iver be ginerals. But you can all make gravy, so you can." + +"When, mother, when?" asked Barney and Tommie eagerly, who saw at once +that gravy would be a great improvement on mud pies, their only culinary +accomplishment at present. + +"When?" repeated the widow. "All in good toime, to be sure. Pat will be +givin' Moike the Gineral's receipt, and the b'y that steps into Moike's +place--and that'll be Andy, I'm thinkin'--he'll larn it of Moike, and so +on, do you see?" + +"And I was just thinkin'," put in Pat, with an encouraging glance at +Mike, "that Jim Barrows's cookin' was like to be poor eatin'." + +"True for you, my b'y!" exclaimed the widow. "The idea of that Jim +Barrows a-cookin' niver struck me before. But, as you say, no doubt +'twould be poor. Them that's not above nignaggin' the unfortunate is apt +to be thinkin' themsilves above cookin', and if they tried it wanst, no +doubt their gravy would be a mixture of hot water and scorch, with, like +enough, too little salt in it if it didn't have too much, and full of +lumps besides. 'Tis your brave foightin' men and iligant gintlemen loike +the Gineral that makes the good gravy." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"Pat, I forgot to give Mr. Brady the list of things that I want sent up +this morning." + +Pat looked up from his dishwashing sympathetically, for there was +perplexity in the kindly tone and on the face no longer young. + +It was always a mystery to the boy why Mrs. Brady called her husband +"Mr. Brady" when everybody else said General Brady. + +"But it's none of my business, of course," he told himself. + +It was Saturday morning. + +"Do you think you could go down, Pat, when the dishes are finished?" + +"Indeed, and I can that, ma'am," returned Pat heartily. + +"Do so, then," was the reply. And Mrs. Brady walked away with a relieved +air. + +"I'm ready, ma'am," announced Pat, coming to the sitting-room door a +little later. "Will you be havin' me to take the list to General Brady, +or will you be havin' me to be doin' the buyin' myself?" + +Mrs. Brady thought a moment. Her husband very much disliked marketing. +If Pat should prove as capable in that direction as in every other, the +General would be saved what was to him a disagreeable task. She resolved +to try him. So she said, "You may do the buying yourself, Pat." + +"Thank you kindly, ma'am," answered Pat respectfully. + +"Do you like to buy things?" asked Mrs. Brady, surprised at the +expression of anticipated pleasure on the boy's face. + +"I don't like nothin' better, ma'am. 'Twas but a taste I'd got of it +before I left home. Mike does our buyin' now. Buyin's next best to +sellin', we both think." + +He took the list Mrs. Brady held out and ran his eye over it. "I'll be +takin' my basket and bring the little things home myself", he said. +"Would you believe it, ma'am, some of them delivery boys is snoopy, I've +been told. Not all of 'em, of course, but some of 'em just. Now raisins, +you've got here. Raisins is mighty good, but let 'em buy their own,' +says I. And don't you be doin' nothin' but restin', ma'am, while I'm +gone. If I'm off enjoyin' myself 'tain't fair as you should be up here +a-workin'. There's not much to be done anyway, but I'll get through with +it," he ended with a smile. + +Away went Pat, stepping jauntily with his basket on his arm. It was the +first of June, and Wennott, embowered in trees, was beautiful. He had +almost reached the square before he thought, "She never told me where to +go. I can't be wastin' my time goin' back. I'll just step into the bank +and ask the General." + +Pat loved the General. A woman's apron was the bond that bound the poor +Irish boy to the fine old soldier, and it was with the smile that the +boy kept exclusively for him that he stepped in at the open door of the +bank. + +The General was engaged, but he found time to answer the smile and to +say in his most genial tone, "In a moment, Pat." + +He was soon at liberty, and then he said, "Now, Pat, what is it?" + +"Please, sir, have you any one place where you want me to be tradin', or +am I to buy where the goods suit me?" + +"Are you doing the marketing to-day, Pat?" + +"Yes, sir. Mrs. Brady give me leave." + +"And what is your own idea about trading?" + +"Buy where you can do the best for the money, sir," was the prompt +reply. + +The banker looked at him thoughtfully. He had the key to Pat's future +now. He knew along what line to push him, for he was determined to push +Pat. And then he said, "Buy where you think best. But did Mrs. Brady +give you money?" + +"She did, sir. This creditin' is poor business. Show 'em your money, and +they'll do better by you every time." + +The General listened in so interested a manner that Pat added, "It's +because the storemen can get all the creditin' they want to do and more, +too, but them as steps up with the cash, them's the ones they're after." + +"And who taught you this, Pat?" + +"Sure and my mother told me part of it, and part of it I just picked up. +But I'll be goin' now, or Mrs. Brady will think I'm never comin'. She'll +be teachin' me to-day to make a fine puddin' for your dinner." + +The first store Pat went into had already several customers. As he +entered, the clerks saw a tall boy wearing a blouse shirt and cottonade +trousers, and having on his head a broad-brimmed straw hat well set +back. And they seemed not at all interested in him. The basket on his +arm was also against him. "Some greeny that wants a nickel's worth of +beans, I suppose," said one. + +But if the clerks seemed to make little of Pat, Pat, for his part, +regarded them with indifference. The sight of the General making gravy +had changed the boy's whole outlook; and he had come to feel that +whoever concerned himself with Pat O'Callaghan's business was out of his +province. Pat was growing independent. + +Other customers came in and were waited upon out of their turn while Pat +was left unnoticed. + +"That's no way to do business," he thought, "but if they can stand it, I +can." And he looked about him with a critical air. He was not going off +in a huff, and perhaps missing the chance of buying to advantage for the +General. At last a clerk drew near--a smallish, dapper young fellow of +about twenty. + +"I'll be lookin' at raisins," said Pat. + +"How many'll you have?" asked the clerk, stepping down the store on the +inside of the counter, while Pat followed on the outside. + +"I said I'd be lookin' at 'em," answered Pat. "I don't want none of 'em +if they don't suit." + +The clerk glanced at him a little sharply, and then handed out a sample +bunch of a poor quality. + +Pat did not offer to touch them. + +"They'll not do," he said. "Have you no better ones? I want to see the +best ones you've got." + +"What's the matter with these?" asked the clerk quickly. + +"And how can I tell what's the matter with 'em? They're not the kind for +General Brady, and that you know as well as I." + +At mention of the General's name the clerk pricked up his ears. It would +be greatly to his credit if, through him, their house should catch +General Brady's trade. He became deferential at once. But he might as +well have spared his pains. No one, with Pat as buyer, would be able to +catch or to keep the General's trade. Whoever offered the best for the +money would sell to him. + +The boy had the same experience in every store he entered, as he went +about picking up one article here and another there till all were +checked off his list. + +"There's more'n me thinks the General's a fine man," he thought as he +went home. "There didn't nobody care about sellin' to me, but they was +all after the General's trade, so they was. And now I must hurry, for my +work's a-waitin' for me, and the puddin' to be learnin' besides. Would I +be goin' back to live off my mother now, and her a-washin' to keep me? +Indeed and I wouldn't. The meanest thing a boy can be doin', I believe, +is to be lettin' his mother keep him if he can get a bit of work of any +sort." + +With his mother's shrewd counsel backing him up, and with the General +constantly before him to be admired and imitated, Pat was developing a +manly spirit. When he went to live with Mrs. Brady, he had offered his +mother the dollar a week he was to receive as wages. + +"Sure and I'll not be takin' it, Pat," said the little woman decidedly. + +To-night he had come home again, and this time he had brought three +dollars with him. + +[Illustration: Pat doing the marketing.] + +"I told you I'd not be takin' it, Pat, and I won't nayther." Though the +widow would not touch the coin, she looked lovingly at her son and went +on, "It's ginerous you are, loike your father, but you're helpin' me +enough when you take your board off my hands. You must save your money +to buy clothes for yoursilf, for you need 'em, Pat dear. Mrs. Brady +can't be puttin' up with too badly dressed help. Now don't you be +spakin' yet," she continued, as she saw him about to remonstrate. "It's +a skame of my own I've got that I want to be tellin' you about, for it's +a comfort you are to me, Pat. Many's the mother as can't say that to her +oldest son, and all on account of the son bein' anything but a comfort, +do you see? But I can say it, Pat, and mean it, too. A comfort you are +to me." + +Pat smiled as he listened. + +"Do you know, Pat," pursued his mother earnestly, "as I'm goin' to my +washin' places, I goes and comes different ways whiniver I can, for +what's the use of always goin' the same way loike a horse in a treadmill +when you don't have to? Course, if you have to, that's different. + +"Well, Pat, sure there's an awful lot of cows kept in this town. And +I've found out that most of 'em is put out to pasture in Jansen's +pasture north of the railroad. It runs north most to the cemetery, I'm +told. But what of that when the gate's at this end? You don't have to +drive the cows no further than the gate, Pat, dear. And the gate you +almost passes when you're goin' to Gineral Brady's by the back way up +the track. It's not far from us, by no manes." + +Pat's face expressed surprise. Did his mother want him to drive cows in +addition to his other work? + +"Now all these cows. Pat," continued his mother impressively, "belongs +wan cow at a house. I don't know but wan house where they kapes more, +and their own b'ys does the drivin', and that wouldn't do us no good. +The pay is fifty cents a month for drivin' a cow out in the mornin' and +drivin' it back at night, and them drivin' b'ys runs 'em till the folks, +many of 'em, is wantin' a different koind of b'ys. Now what if I could +get about ten cows, and put Andy and Jim to drive 'em turn about, wan +out and the other back. Wouldn't that be a good thing? Five dollars a +month to put to the sixteen I earn a-washin', and not too hard on the +b'ys, nayther. Don't you think 'twould be a good thing, Pat?" + +"I do, indeed, mother," answered the son approvingly. + +"I knowed you would, and I belave your father would. How is it you come +to be so like him, Pat, dear? The blessed angels know. But you're a +comfort to me. And now will you help me to get the cows? If you could +get a riference, I belave they calls it, from the Gineral, for we're +mostly strangers yet. You can say you know Andy and Jim won't run the +cows." + +The reference was had from the General that very evening, though the old +soldier could not help smiling to himself over it, and the first of the +week found Andy and Jim trudging daily to and from the pasture. + +It was not without something like a spirit of envy that Barney and +Tommie saw Jim and Andy driving the cows. + +"Mother, why can't we be goin', too?" teased Barney, while Tommie stood +by with pouting lips. + +"And what for would you be goin'?" asked the widow. "Most cows don't +loike little b'ys. They knows, does the cows, that little b'ys is best +off somewhere else than tryin' to drive them about sayin,' 'Hi! hi!' and +showin' 'em a stick." + +The two still showing discontent, she continued: "But geese, now, is +different. And who's to be moindin' the geese, if you and Tommie was to +go off after the cows? Sure geese is more your size than cows, I'm +thinkin', and, by the same token, I hear 'em a-squawkin' now. What's the +matter with 'em? Go see. Not that anybody iver knows what's the matter +with a goose," she ended as the little boys chased out of the shanty. +"It's for that they're called geese, I shouldn't wonder." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +There is no whip to ambition like success. Every day the widow thought, +and toiled, and kept her eyes open for chances for her boys. "For, +after all," said she, "twenty-one dollars a month is all too small to +kape six b'ys and mesilf when the winter's a-comin', and 'twon't be +twenty-one then nayther, for cows ain't drove to pasture in winter." + +It was the second son who was listening this time, and the two were +alone in the shanty kitchen. + +"The days is long, and I belave, Moike, you could do something else than +our own housework, with Andy here to look after the little b'ys." + +"Say what it is, mother dear, and I'll do it," cried Mike, who had been +envying Pat his chance to earn. + +"Well, then, to be telling you the truth, Moike, who should be askin' me +if I knowed of a boy to kape his lawn clean this summer but the Gineral. +Says I, 'I do, Gineral Brady. I'll be bold to say my Moike will do it.' +So there I've promised for you, Moike, and you're to have a dollar a +month." + +The boy's delight at the prospect shone in his eyes and his mother went +on, "Strong and hearty you are, Moike, and I've been thinkin' what's to +hinder your gettin' other lawns with school out next week and nothin' to +bother you." + +The little woman looked tired and warm. She was just home from +Thursday's wash, and she sat down wearily on one of the wooden chairs. +Mike saw it, and, to the boy who would be fourteen the next day, there +suddenly came a realizing sense of the stay his mother was to the +family. He noted with anxiety the lines that were deepening on her face. +"Sit in father's chair, mother dear," he coaxed. "'Twill rest you more." + +The widow looked at him with a pleased expression creeping over her +face. + +"You're father and mother both, so you are. Sit in father's chair," +persuaded Mike. + +"No," she answered, as she rose and went over to the seat of honor. +"Don't praise me too much. I'm jist your mother, doin' the best I can +for you, though." + +And she sat down and leaned her head against the back of the chair. + +The sturdy figure of the boy began to move briskly about. He made up the +fire and then he slipped out at the door and took an observation. No +shade anywhere but at the east end of the shanty, where the building +itself threw a shade. He hurried in again. + +"Will you be gettin' up, mother dear, if you please?" + +In surprise she stood up. The strong, young arms reached past her, +lifted the chair, and then the boy began to pick his way carefully so as +not to strike this treasured possession against anything. + +"What are you doin', Moike?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan in astonishment. + +"I'm takin'--the chair--outside--where--there's a cool shade. 'Tis too +hot--for you here where I'm cookin'." + +He turned and looked back as he stood in the doorway. "Come, mother +dear, and rest you in the cool." + +"Moike! Moike!" cried the widow, touched by this attention. "'Tis what +your father would have done if he was here. Always afraid he was, that I +would be gettin' overtired or something. 'Tis sweet to have his b'y so +loike him." + +Mike's heart gave a great throb. He knew now the taste of that praise +that kept Pat pushing ahead. "'Tis for Pat to lead--he's the oldest," he +thought over his cooking. "But see if I don't be lookin' out for mother +after this, and makin' it as easy for her as I can. I'd lug forty chairs +ten miles, so I would, to have her praise me like that." + +The next morning the widow rose still weary. The kitchen was +uncomfortably warm as a sleeping place now, but what could be done about +it? Nothing. + +"It's all there is, and I won't be sayin' a word about it, so I won't," +she thought. "I'll jist tuck Larry in with Moike, and I guess I can +stand it." + +Wash day for the home. She hardly felt equal to her task. + +Breakfast was over, but what was Mike doing? Not making his beds, nor +washing his dishes. He had put on and filled the boiler. Now he was +carrying out wash bench and tubs to the west side of the shanty. The +west was the shady side of a morning. In he came again--this time for +the father's chair. + +"'Tis an iligant breeze there is this mornin'," he cried. "Come out, +mother, dear, and sit in father's chair. You've got a wash boy this +mornin', so you have, and he'll need a lot of showin'." + +He reached for the washboard as he ceased, and smiled lovingly on his +mother. + +"Moike! Moike!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan in a trembling tone, "'tis sweet +to be took care of. I hain't been took care of since your father died." + +"Then 'tis time you was!" answered Mike. "And I'm the boy to do it, too. +Come out, mother dear." + +And the mother went out. + +"But there's your housework, Moike." + +"That can wait," was the positive reply. + +"But there's your schoolin'." + +"I'm not goin' to school to-day. I know my lessons. I learnt 'em last +night. Will I be goin' to school and sittin' there all day, and you all +tired out a-washin' for us? I won't that." + +"Moike, 'twas your father was dreadful headstrong when he set out to be. +It's fearin' I am you're loike him there." + +But the happy light in her eyes was reflected on the face of her son as +he answered: "It's wantin' I am to be like him in everything, headstrong +and all. I'm not goin' to school to-day." + +"And you needn't, Moike. I'll be ownin' to you now I didn't feel equal +to the washin', and that's the truth." + +Mike nodded and went gayly into the house for warm water and the +clothes. + +"There's more than one kind of a boy needed in a house," he said to +himself. "With seven of us mother ought to have 'em of all kinds. I'm +the one to be aisin' her. I'm built for it." And he rolled up his shirt +sleeves over his strong, muscular young arms. + +"Now be careful," began Mike's first lesson in washing, "and don't waste +the soap and your strength a-tryin' to get the dirt out of the places +that ain't dirty. Rub where the rubbin's needed, and put the soap where +it's wanted. That's it. You're comin' on foine." And the widow resumed +her seat. + +For a few moments she sat silent in thought. Then she said: "Do you know +what's the matter with this town, Moike? All the b'ys in it that wants +to work at all wants to do somethin' aisy, loike drivin' a delivery +wagon. Though the way they drive 'em ain't so aisy on the horses, +nayther. There's a lesson for you, Moike. Them that's so aisy on +themsilves is the very wans to be hard on iverything and iverybody. Them +that's got snail's feet of their own can't get a horse to go fast enough +for 'em, specially when the horse belongs to somebody else. And I'm jist +a-gettin' my courage up, Moike. I belave there'll be always something +for my b'ys to do, because my b'ys will _work_. And if they can't +get b'ys' work they'll do girls' work. Betwane you and me, Moike, I'm +proud of Pat. Have you heard the news? When school closes he's to have +two dollars a week, and three afternoons out all summer. And what do you +think Mrs. Brady says? She says she hain't had such help since she lived +in the East. She says she's restin', and she feels ten years younger. +That's your brother's work, Moike,--makin' a lady like Mrs. Gineral +Brady feel ten years younger. If there's aught to be ashamed of in that, +sure 'twould take a ninny to find out what it is. I'll warrant them +delivery b'ys' horses ain't feelin' ten years younger, anyway." + +Mike's face showed that he relished his mother's talk; seeing which, she +went on: "You're doin' foine, Moike. Do you know there was a girl wanst +set to washin', and she had it in her moind to do a good job, too. The +first thing she got hold of was a pillow case with lace on the ind of +it--wide lace. And what does she do but lather that clean lace with soap +and put in her best licks on it, and all to no purpose at all only to +wear the lace to strings, and then, don't you think, she quite skipped +the body of the case where the head had been a-layin'." + +Mike laughed. + +That night as the widow and her boys sat outside the door in the cool, +quick steps came down the track, crunching the slack and cinders that +filled the spaces between the ties. It was Pat who was coming, and his +face was anxious. + +"What ails you, mother dear?" he cried lovingly. + +"Why, nothin', Pat, only I've got some sons that spoils me, so I have, +a-makin' much of me. 'Tis a dreadful complaint, ain't it? But there's +mothers as is not loike to die of it." And she laughed half tearfully. +She had been nearer breaking down that morning than she would admit, and +her nerves were still a little unsteady. + +"Andy told me at recess Mike was stayin' home to wash, and I didn't know +what to think. I've been worryin' about it ever since, and the minute my +work was done I come a-flyin' to see." + +"You needn't worry no more, Pat. Sure, and I thought when the chance +come for you to go to Mrs. Gineral Brady 'twas because the Lord saw our +need. And that was it, no doubt, but there's more to it, Pat. You went +that I might foind out what koind of a b'y Moike is. You moind what I +told you about permotions, Pat? 'Twas your steppin' up that give Moike +his chance to show what he could do. And Moike was ready for it. Chances +don't do nobody no good that ain't ready for 'em. Andy there is +a-watchin', I know." + +The frail little fellow smiled. There was some light on the group, +thrown from the electric light tower, but not enough to show the +wistfulness of the boy's face, and the widow burned no oil in summer. +Privately, Andy was afraid chances would not do him much good. + +"Why," continued the widow, "even the little b'ys, Barney and Tommie, +was a-watchin' the other day for chances. 'Twas them that wanted to be +takin' the job of drivin' the cows from Andy and Jim, and leavin' their +geese to do it, too. There's big b'ys, I'm thinkin', that's after cows +when geese would be better suited to 'em." + +Barney and Tommie were drowsing, but Jim blushed. He knew that reproof +was meant for him. Mrs. O'Callaghan had been thinking about her fourth +son to-day in the unaccustomed leisure given her by Mike. + +"How it is I don't know," she mused, "but he do have a wonderful knack +at rilin' up the little b'ys, and he'd iver be doin' somethin' he can't +do at all. I'll be lookin' into Jim's case. There shan't wan of Tim's +b'ys be sp'iled if I can help it." + +"It's time you was goin', ain't it, Pat?" suggested Mike. + +At this breach of hospitality the widow was astounded. Mike to speak +like that! + +For a second Pat seemed hurt. "I could have stayed half an hour longer, +but I'll go," he said, rising. + +"And I'll go with you a ways!" exclaimed Mike, jumping up very promptly. + +Pat's farewells were said and the two were off before Mrs. O'Callaghan +had recovered herself enough to remonstrate. + +"I wanted to be talkin' to you, Pat, and I didn't want mother to hear. +That kitchen's too hot for her to sleep in, and that's the truth." + +"But there ain't no other place," answered Pat anxiously. + +"No," returned Mike triumphantly. "There ain't no other place for mother +to sleep, but there is a place we could put the stove, and that's +outside." + +"What in?" inquired Pat gloomily. + +"What in? In nothin', of course. There's nothin' there. But couldn't we +stick in four poles and put old boards across so's the stove would be +covered, and run the pipe out of a hole in the top?" + +"We might," returned Pat, "but you'll have to make up your mind to get +wet a-cookin' more days than one. All the rains don't come straight +down. There's them that drives under. And you'd have to be carrying the +things in through the wet when you got 'em cooked, too." + +"And what of that?" asked Mike. "Do you think I care for that? What's me +gettin' wet to makin' mother comfortable? There's July and August comin' +yet, and June only begun." + +Pat looked at his brother admiringly, though the semi-darkness did not +permit his expression to be seen. + +"We'll do it!" said he. "I'll help you dig the holes for the posts and +all. We'll begin to-morrow evenin'. I know Mrs. Brady will let me come +when my work's done." + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The next morning Pat went about with a preoccupied air. But all his work +was done with his accustomed dispatch and skill, nevertheless. + +"What is on my boy's mind?" thought Mrs. Brady. Yes, that is what she +thought--"_my_ boy." + +And just then Pat looked into the sitting-room with his basket on his +arm. "I'll just be doin' the marketin' now, ma'am," he said. + +"Very well," smiled Mrs. Brady. "Here's a rose for your buttonhole. You +look very trim this morning." + +Pat blushed with pleasure, and, advancing, took the flower. The poor +Irish boy had instinctively dainty tastes, and the love of flowers was +one of them. But even before the blossom was made fast, the preoccupied +look returned. + +"Mrs. Brady, ma'am, would you care if I stopped at the lumber yard while +I'm down town? I'd like to be gettin' some of their cheapest lumber sent +home this afternoon." + +"Why, no, Pat. Stop, of course." + +Pat was encouraged. "I know I was out last night," he said. "But could I +be goin' again this evenin' after my work's done? Mike's got a job on +hand that I want to help him at." + +"Yes, Pat." + +"You see, ma'am," said the boy gratefully, "we're goin' to rig up +something to put the cook-stove in so as mother will be cooler. It's too +hot for her sleepin' in the kitchen." + +Mrs. Brady looked thoughtful. Then she said: "You are such a good, +dutiful boy to me, Pat, that I think I must reconsider my permission. +Lunch is prepared. You may go home as soon as you have finished your +marketing and help Mike till it is time to get dinner. We will have +something simple, so you need not be back until four this afternoon, and +you may go again this evening to finish what remains to be done." + +"Mrs. Brady, ma'am," cried Pat from his heart, "you're next to the +General, that's what you are, and I thank you." + +Mrs. Brady smiled. She knew the boy's love for her husband, and she +understood that to stand next to the General in Pat's estimation was to +be elevated to a pinnacle. "Thank you, Pat," she replied. Then she went +on snipping at the choice plants she kept in the house, even in summer, +and Pat, proudly wearing his rose, hurried off. + +But when Pat arrived at home and hastened out behind the shanty, the +post-holes were dug. Mike had risen at three o'clock that morning, dug +each one and covered it with a bit of board before his mother was up. + +"And have you come to say you can't come this evenin'?" asked Mike, as +Pat advanced to where he was sorting over such old scraps of boards as +he had been permitted to pick up and carry home. + +"I've come to get to work this minute," replied Pat, throwing off his +blouse and hanging it on the sill of the open window, with the rose +uppermost. + +"Where'd you get that rose?" inquired Mike, bending to inhale its +fragrance. + +"Mrs. Brady give it to me." + +"Mother would think it was pretty," with a glance at his older brother. + +"And she shall have it," said Pat. "But them boards won't do. I've +bought some cheap ones at the lumber yard, and they're on the way. And +here's the nails. We'll get that stove out this day, I'm thinkin'. I +couldn't sleep in my bed last night for thinkin' of mother roastin' by +it." + +"Nor I, neither," said Mike. + +"Well, let's get to diggin' the holes." + +"They're dug." + +"When did you dig 'em?" + +"Before day." + +"Does mother know?" + +"Never a word." + +Pat went from corner to corner and peered critically down into each +hole. + +"You're the boy, Mike, and that's a fact," was his approving sentence. + +Just then the boards came and were thrown off with a great clatter. Mrs. +O'Callaghan hurried to the door. "Now, b'ys, what's the meanin' of +this?" she questioned when the man had gone. + +"Have my rose, mother dear," said Pat. + +"And it's a pretty rose, so it is," responded Mrs. O'Callaghan, +receiving it graciously. "But it don't answer my question. What'll you +be doin' with them boords?" + +"Now, mother, it's Mike's plan, but I'm into it, too, and we want to +surprise you. Can't you trust us?" + +"I can," was the answer. "Go on with your surprise." And she went back +into the shanty. + +Then the boys set to work in earnest. Four scantlings had come with the +boards, and were speedily planted firmly. + +[Illustration: Pat and Mike building the kitchen.] + +"We don't need no saw, for the boards are of the right length, so they +are. A man at the yard sawed 'em for me. He said he could as well as +not. Folks are mighty good to us, Mike; have you noticed?" + +"The right sort are good to us, of course. Them Jim Barrows boys are +anything but good. They sets on all of us as much as they dares." + +By three o'clock the roof was on, and the rough scraps Mike had +collected were patched into a sort of protection for a part of the east +side of the new kitchen. + +"Now let's be after the stove!" cried Mike. + +In they went, very important. + +"Mother, dear, we'd like to be takin' down your stove, if you'll let +us," said Pat. + +The widow smiled. "I lets you," she answered. + +Down came the stovepipe to be carried out. Then the lids and the doors +were taken off to make the heavy load lighter. And then under went the +truck that Andy had run to borrow, and the stove was out. + +Mrs. O'Callaghan carefully refrained from looking at them, but cheerful +sounds came in through doors and windows as the big boys worked and the +little ones crowded close with eager enjoyment of the unusual happening. +Presently there came tones of dismay. + +"Pat," said Mike, "there's no hole to run the pipe through. What'll we +do?" + +"We'll have to be cuttin' one, and with a jackknife, too, for we've +nothin' else. But I'll have to be goin' now. I was to be back by four, +you know." + +"Then we'll call the mother out and show her the surprise now," said +Mike. "I'll make short work of cuttin' that hole after you're gone." + +"Will you be steppin' out, mother dear?" invited Mike gallantly. + +"You'll not be roastin' by the stove no more this summer," observed Pat. + +The widow came out. She looked at the rough roof supported by the four +scantlings, and then at her boys. + +"Sure, 'tis a nice, airy kitchen, so it is," she said. "And as for the +surprise, 'tis jist the koind of a wan your father was always thinkin' +up. As you say, I'll not be roastin' no more. But it's awful warm you've +made my heart, b'ys. It's a warm heart that's good to have summer and +winter." And then she broke down. "Niver do you moind me, b'ys," she +went on after a moment. "'Tis this sort of tears that makes a mother's +loife long, so 'tis." + +"Well, Mrs. Brady, ma'am, we're done," reported Pat at a few minutes +before four. "Mike, he'd got up and dug all the holes before day, and it +didn't take us so long." + +"And is the stove out?" inquired Mrs. Brady kindly. + +"It is, ma'am. Mike will be cookin' out there this evenin'. Mike's +gettin' to be the cook, ma'am. I show him all I learn here, and he soon +has it better than I have myself." + +Mrs. Brady smiled. How Mike could do better than Pat she did not see, +but she could see the brotherly spirit that made Pat believe it. + +"Perhaps you had better go over again this evening," she said, "just to +see if the stove draws well in the new kitchen." + +"Do you mean it, ma'am?" asked the boy eagerly. + +"Yes." + +"Thank you, kindly. I'd like to go, but I wasn't goin' to ask. My mother +says askin's a bad habit. Them that has it is apt to ask more than +they'd ought to many times." + +Meanwhile, up on the roof of the new kitchen in the hot afternoon sun +sat Mike with his knife. He had marked out the size of the pipe-hole +with a pencil, and with set lips was putting all the force of his +strong, young arms into the work. A big straw hat was on his head--a +common straw, worth about fifteen cents. Clustered below were the little +boys. + +"No, you can't come up," Mike had just said in answer to their +entreaties. "The roof won't bear you." + +"'Twould bear me, and I could help you cut the hole," said Jim. + +"There goes Jim again," soliloquized the widow. "Wantin' to cut a round +hole in a boord with a knife, when 'tis only himself he'd be cuttin', +and not the boord at all. It's not so much that he's iver for doin' what +he can't, but he's awful set against doin' what he can. Jim, come here!" +she called. + +Jim obeyed. + +"You see how loike your father Pat and Moike and Andy is, some wan way +and some another. Do you want to be loike him, too?" + +[Illustration: "Up on the roof sat Mike with his knife."] + +Jim owned that he did. + +"Well, then, remimber your father would niver have been for climbin' to +the roof of the new kitchen and cuttin' a round hole in a boord with a +knife so as to run the pipe through when he was your soize. But he would +have been for huntin' up some dry kindlin' to start the fire for supper. +So, now, there's your job, Jim, and do it good. Don't come back with a +skimpin' bit that won't start the coal at all." + +With lagging steps Jim set off to the patch of hazel brush north of the +shanty to pick up such dry twigs as he could. His mother gazed after +him. + +"Tim left me a fortune when he left me my b'ys, all but Jim," she said, +"and see if I don't make something out of him, too. Pat and Moike and +Andy--showin' that you sense what they're doin' is enough for 'em. Jist +that will kape 'em goin' foine. But Jim, he'll take leadin' with praise +and shovin' with blame, and he'll get both of 'em from me, so he will. +For sure, he's Tim's b'y, too, and will I be leavin' him to spoil for +want of a harsh word now and then? I won't that. There's them in this +world that needs settin' up and there's them that needs takin' down a +peg. And wanst in a while you see wan that needs both of 'em, and that's +Jim, so 'tis. Well, I know it in toime, that's wan thing." + +Jim made such slow progress that the hole was cut, the pipe run through, +and Mike was beginning to look about for his own kindling when he made +his appearance. + +"Well, Jim," said his mother, taking him aside, "there's something the +matter with your feet, I'm thinkin', you've been gone so long. You was +all but missin' the chance of seein' the first fire started in the new +kitchen. There's something to remimber--seein' a sight loike that--and +then you have it to think about that it was yoursilf that provided the +kindlin' for it. All this you was on the p'int of losin' through bein' +slow on your feet. Your father was the spriest koind of a b'y, I'm told. +Only show him an errand, and he was off on it. Get some spryness into +your feet if you want to be like your father, and run, now, to see Moike +loight the fire. And don't be reachin' to take the match out of his +hand, nayther. Your toime of fire buildin' will come." + +Away went Jim. He was certainly spry enough now. Mike was just setting +the blazing match to the kindling when he reached the group around the +stove. At the front stood the little boys, and in a twinkling Jim had +pushed them one this way, one that, in order to stand directly in front +of the stove himself. + +"There he goes again," sighed the widow. "'Tis a many pegs Jim will have +to be took down, I'm thinkin'." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +It was the last day of August that Pat went walking down to do his +marketing with a jubilant air. Next week school was to begin, and with +the beginning of the term he had expected to go back to his old wages of +a dollar a week. But that morning Mrs. Brady had told him that he was +still to have two dollars. + +"And me goin' to school?" asked the boy in surprise. + +"Yes, Pat. You have come to be very skillful about the house and you are +worth it." + +"I wasn't thinkin' about gettin' skillful, ma'am, so as to have my wages +raised," was the earnest answer. "I was just thinkin' how to please you +and doin' my best." + +Mrs. Brady was touched. "You have pleased me, Pat, and you have pleased +Mr. Brady, too. We both take a great interest in you." + +"Do you, ma'am? Then that's better than havin' my wages raised, though +it's glad of the raise I am, too, and thank you for it. 'Twill be great +news to be takin' home the next time I go." + +But Pat was to take home greater news than that, though he did not know +it as he went along with all the light-heartedness of his race. The +sight of the tall, slender boy with his basket on his arm had grown +familiar in the streets of Wennott. He was never left waiting in the +stores now, and nothing but the best was ever offered him. Not only did +the grocers know him, but the butchers, the poulterers, and even the dry +goods merchants. For he often matched silks and wools for Mrs. Brady, +and he had been known to buy towels of the common sort. A group of +loafers shrugged their shoulders as he passed them this morning, and +fell to repeating anecdotes of his shrewdness when certain dealers had +tried to sell him poor goods at market prices. + +"There's nobody in this town ever got ahead of him yet on a deal," said +one. "He's so awful honest." + +"Bein' square himself, he won't take nothin' but squareness from nobody, +and while he's lookin' out for his own chances he looks out for the +other fellow's, too. Times and times he's handed back nickels and dimes +when change wasn't made straight," contributed a second. + +"There's two or three store men in town got their eye on him. They don't +like to say nothin', seem' he's cookin' at General Brady's, but if he +ever leaves there, he'll have pick and choice. Yes, sir, pick and +choice," concluded a third. + +At that very moment a dry goods merchant of the west side of the square +was in the bank talking to General Brady. "I might as well speak," Mr. +Farnham had thought. "If I don't get him, somebody else will." What the +loafers had said was true. + +"General," began Mr. Farnham, after the two had exchanged greetings, "I +dislike to interfere with your family arrangements, but I should like to +have Pat in the store this fall. I'll give him fifteen dollars a month." + +The General smiled. "Fifteen dollars is cheap for Pat, Mr. Farnham. He's +no ordinary boy." + +"But that's the regular price paid here for beginners," responded Mr. +Farnham. "And he'll have a great deal to learn." + +"Have you spoken to him yet?" + +"No, I thought I would speak to you first." + +"Well, Mr. Farnham, Mrs. Brady and I some time ago decided that, much as +we should like to keep Pat with us, we would not stand in his way when +his chance came, I think this is his chance. And I don't doubt he'll +come to you." + +After a little further talk between the two General Brady said: "There +is another matter I wish to mention. Mrs. O'Callaghan has set her heart +on having Pat graduate from the public school. He could do so easily in +another year, but with his strong mercantile bent, and taking into +consideration the struggle his mother is obliged to make to keep him +there, I don't think it best. For, while Pat supports himself, he can do +nothing to help at home. I ask you to give him one evening out a week, +Mr. Farnham, and I will direct his reading on that evening. If I can +bring him up and keep him abreast of the times, and prevent him from +getting into mischief, he'll do." + +"I shouldn't think he could accomplish much with one evening a week, +General," objected Mr. Farnham, who did not wish to give Pat a regular +evening out. An occasional evening was enough, he thought. + +"Oh, yes, he can," insisted the General. "The most of his reading he +will do at odd minutes, and that evening will be chiefly a resume and +discussion of what he has gone over during the week." + +"You must take a strong interest in the boy, General." + +"I do. I don't mind telling you privately, Mr. Farnham, that I mean to +push him. Not by charity, which, to the best of my belief, not an +O'Callaghan would take, but by giving him every opportunity in my power +to advance for himself." + +"In other words, you mean to protect the boy's interests, General?" + +"I do. As I said before, fifteen dollars a month is cheap for Pat. I +suppose he is to have, in addition, his one evening a week?" + +"Yes," agreed Mr. Farnham, reluctantly. + +"Thank you," said the General, courteously. + +General Brady had intended to keep his news from Pat until the next +morning, but it would not keep. As the boy, with his spotless apron on, +brought in the dinner and stood ready to wait at table, the old soldier +found the words crowding to the tip end of his tongue. His keen eyes +shone, and he regarded with a most kindly gaze the lad who, to make life +a little easier for his mother, had faced jeers and contempt and had +turned himself into a girl--a kitchen girl. It was not with his usual +smoothness, but quite abruptly, that he began: "Pat, you are to leave +us, it seems." + +Pat so far forgot his manners as to stop and stare blankly at his +employer. + +"Yes, Pat. You are going into Mr. Farnham's store this fall at fifteen +dollars a month." + +If anything could have more endeared him to the General and his wife it +was the way in which Pat received this, to him, important communication. +He looked from one to the other and back again, his face radiant with +delight. The born trader was to have an opportunity to trade. + +And then his expression sobered. "But what will Mrs. Brady be doin' +without me?" he cried. "Sure she's used to me now, and she's not strong, +either." + +"Perhaps Mike would come," suggested Mrs. Brady. + +"He'll be glad to do it, ma'am!" exclaimed Pat, his joy returning. "'Tis +himself that thinks its first the General and then you, just as I do." + +"I hope you may always think so," said Mrs. Brady, smiling. + +"Sure and I will. How could I be thinkin' anything else?" + +And then the meal went on. + +That evening, by permission, Pat went home. He sang, he whistled, he +almost danced down the track. + +"And it's Pat as is the happy b'y this evenin'," said Mrs. O'Callaghan. +"Listen to him singin' and whistlin', first wan and then the other. +Gineral Brady's is the place for any one." + +The family were sitting in the kitchen, for the evening was a trifle +cool. But the windows were open and there was a lamp burning. + +"He's got some good news, I guess," remarked quiet Andy. + +The mother gave him a quick glance. "Andy," she said, "you're the b'y as +is different from all the rest, and a comfort you are, too. 'Tisn't +ivery family has a b'y as can hear good news when it's comin'." + +And then Pat came in. His eyes were ablaze, and his wide mouth wore its +most joyous smile. He looked round upon them all for one second, and +then, in a ringing voice, he cried: "Mother! Oh, mother, it's to Mr. +Farnham's store I'm to go, and I'm to have fifteen dollars a month, and +the General is going to help me with my books, and Mrs. Brady wants Mike +to go to her!" + +It was all out in a breath, and it was such a tremendous piece of news +that it left them all gasping but Larry, who understood not a thing but +that Pat had come, and who stood waiting to be noticed by the big +brother. For a full moment there was neither speech nor motion. Then the +widow looked slowly round upon her sons. Her heart was full of gratitude +to the Bradys, of pride in Pat, of exultation over his good fortune, +and, at the same time, her eyes were brimming with tears. + +"B'ys," she said at last, "I wasn't looking for permotions quite so soon +again. But I belave that where they've come wanst, they're loikely to be +comin' again, if them that's permoted lives up to their chances. Who's +been permoted in Mr. Farnham's store, I can't say. But sure Pat, he +steps up, and Moike steps into the good place Pat has stepped out of, +and gives Andy his chance here at home. There's them that says there's +no chances for anybody any more, but the world's full of chances. It's +nothin' but chances, so 'tis. Sure a body don't want to be jerked from +wan thing to another so quick their head spins, and so chances come +along pretty middlin' slow. But the world's full of 'em. Let Andy wanst +get larned here at home, and you'll be seein' what he'll do. Andy's not +so strong as some, and he'll need help. I'm thinkin' I'll make a team +out of him and Jim." + +"I don't want to be helpin'. I want to be doin' mesilf," objected Jim. + +"And what will you be doin'?" asked the widow. "You're full short for +spreadin' bedclothes, for though nine years makes a b'y plinty big +enough for some things, it laves him a bit small for others. You can't +be cookin' yet, nor sweepin', nor even loightin' fires. But you shall be +doin', since doin's what you want. You shall wipe the dishes, and set +the table, and do the dustin', and get the kindlin', and sure you'll be +tired enough when you've all that done to make you glad you're no older +and no bigger. Your father, when he was noine, would have thought that a +plinty for him, and so it's a plinty for you, as you'll foind. You're +quite young to be permoted that high," went on his mother, seeing a +discontented expression on the little fellow's face. "Only for the big +b'ys gettin' ahead so fast, you wouldn't have no chance at all, and +folks wouldn't think you much bigger than Barney there, so they +wouldn't. B'ys of nine that gets any sort of permotion is doin' foine, +let me tell you. And now's your chance to show Moike that you can kape +the dishes shinin', and niver a speck of dust on anything as well as he +could himsilf." + +Jim straightened himself, and Mike smiled encouragingly upon him. "You +can do it, Jim," he said with a nod. + +And Jim decided then and there that he would do it. + +"I'll be lookin' round when I come to visit you all from Mrs. Brady's, +and I expect to be proud of Jim," added Mike. + +And Jim increased his determination. He wanted to have Mike proud of +him. Very likely Mike would not be proud of the little boys. There was +nothing about them to be proud of. "He shall be proud of me," thought +Jim, and an important look stole over his face. "He'll be tellin' me I'm +the b'y, I shouldn't wonder." + +And now the widow's mind went swiftly back to the General. "Sure, and +it's a wonderful man he is," she cried. "Your father was jist such a +man, barrin' he was Irish and no Gineral at all. 'Twas him that was at +the bottom of your gettin' the place to Mr. Farnham's, a-trustin' you to +do all the buyin' so's folks could see what was in you. It's sorry I am +about the graduation, but the Gineral knows best, so he does." + +[Illustration: "Barney and Tommie a-takin' care of the geese."] + +Then her thought turned to the finances of the family. "And how much is +sixteen and fifteen?" she asked. "Sure, and it's thirty-wan. Thirty-wan +dollars a month for us this winter, and Moike takin' care of himself, to +say nothin' of what Moike has earned with the lawn mower. 'Blessin's on +the man that invented it,' says I, 'and put folks in the notion of +havin' their lawns kept neat, 'cause they could do it cheap.' And +there's what Andy and Jim has made a-drivin' the cows, and Barney and +Tommie a-takin' care of the geese. Wennott's the town for them as can +work. And bad luck to lazy bones anyway. It's thankful I am I've got +none of 'em in my family." + +She paused a moment in reflection. + +"Them geese now is foine. Do you think, Pat, the Gineral and Mrs. Brady +would enjoy eatin' wan of 'em when it's a bit cooler? You knows what +they loikes by this time." + +"I think they would, mother." + +"Then it's the best of the lot they shall have. Bad luck to them that's +always a-takin' and niver wantin' to be givin' back." + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The fall term opened and found Mike the head of the O'Callaghan tribe, +as the brothers had been jeeringly called by the Jim Barrows set. And +Mike was a good head. The sort of boy to impress others with the good +sense of minding their own business. His blue eyes had a determined +look, as he came on the campus the first morning of the new term, that +made his old persecutors think it best to withhold such choice epithets +as "Biddy," "Kitchen Girl," and "Scrub Maid," which they had laid up for +him. For they knew that it was Mike who now did housework at General +Brady's. They had never seen Mike fight. He had always stood back and +let Pat lead. But there was something in his erect and independent +bearing on this autumn morning that made it very evident to the school +bullies that if Mike did not fight it was not because he could not. + +"Them O'Callaghans think they're some since General Brady picked 'em +up," commented Jim Barrows, safely out of Mike's hearing. + +"General Brady had never heard of them when Pat gave you a licking, Jim, +or don't you remember?" asked Bob Farnham, who was passing. + +"Say, Jim," advised a crony, as the two sauntered off together, "we'd +better let them O'Callaghans alone. I don't like the looks of that Mike. +'Twasn't any wonder that Pat licked you, for you're not much on the +fight anyway. But I tell you, I wouldn't like to tackle that Mike +myself. He's one of them pleasant kind that's a regular tiger when you +stir him up." + +"He's been runnin' lawn mowers all summer," observed Jim reflectively. +"I reckon he's got his muscle up. Don't know but we had best leave him +alone." + +"Let me tell you, Jim, 'twon't do just to let him alone. We've got to +let 'em all alone--Andy and Jim and Barney and Tommie--or he'll light +into us same as Pat did into you." + +"Why can't a fellow do just his own fightin'," grumbled Jim Barrows, +"and let the kids look out for themselves?" + +"Some of 'em can, but the O'Callaghans ain't that kind. Touch one, touch +'em all, as you'd ought to know, Jim." + +"Oh, shut up! You needn't be throwin' up that lickin' to me every +minute. I was surprised, I tell you. Astonished, as I might say. I +wasn't lookin' to be pitched into by a low down Irish boy." + +"Oh, wasn't you?" queried his friend ironically. "Well, you keep on +a-hectorin', and you'll be surprised again, or astonished, as you might +say. That's all." + +Jim Barrows had not looked into Mike's +eye for nothing. He knew for himself the +truth of all his companion had been saying, +and from that hour the little boys had +peace. + +That same Monday was the most exciting and important day of his life to +Pat. He saw other clerks lagging along without interest, and he wondered +at them. Hitherto, in all transactions, he had been a buyer. Now he was +to sell. + +Farnham's store was on the west side of the square--a fair-sized +room--but rather dark, and not the best place in the world to display +goods. It was not even the best place in Wennott, the storerooms of both +Wall and Arnold being newer and better fitted. But displaying goods was +not Pat's affair that morning. It was his part to display a clean floor +and well-dusted shelves and counters to the first customer. + +Mr. Farnham came in at the hour when he had usually found his other boy +through with the sweeping and dusting, and Pat was still using the +broom. His employer, seeing the skillful strokes of the broom, wondered. +But he was soon enlightened. Pat was not giving the middle of the floor +a brush out. He was sweeping thoroughly into every corner where a broom +could find entrance. For Pat knew nothing of "brush outs," though he +knew all about clean floors. Every little while he stopped, swept up his +collection into the dust-pan and carried it to a waste box in the back +of the store. Mr. Farnham watched his movements. "He's business," he +commented to himself. "Neither hurry nor lag." + +At last Pat was through. One of the clerks came in, and she stared to +see the shelves still wearing their dust curtains. But Pat was +unconcerned. He had never opened a store before, nor seen one opened. He +had been told to sweep out and dust, and he was obeying orders. That was +all he was thinking about. + +The sweeping done, Pat waited for the little dust that was flying to +settle. Then he walked to the front end of the store and began to unhook +the dust curtains. Very gingerly he took hold of them, being careful to +disturb them as little as possible. Mr. Farnham and the girl clerk +watched him. Every other boy had jerked them down and chucked them under +the counter in a jiffy. Out went Pat with them to the rear door, gave +them a vigorous shaking, brought them back, folded them quickly and +neatly, and then, turning to Mr. Farnham said, "Where will you have 'em, +sir?" + +In silence Mr. Farnham pointed out a place, and then handed him a +feather duster, showing him, at the same time, how to fleck the dust off +the edges of the bolts of goods along the shelves, and also off the +counter. + +"This thing's no good for the glass show cases, sir. I'd ought to have a +soft cloth. Something to take the dust up with, sir." + +The merchant turned to the girl clerk. "Cut him off a square of +cheesecloth, Miss Emlin, please," he said. + +[Illustration: "The merchant turned to the girl clerk."] + +"Ordinary boy!" exclaimed Mr. Farnham to himself and thinking of the +General. "I should say he wasn't. But cleaning up a store and selling +goods are two different things." + +It was a very small place that was given to Pat in the store that +day--just the calicoes, ginghams, and muslins. And Pat was dissatisfied. + +"'Tisn't much of a chance I've got," he murmured to himself. +"Gingham--that's for aprons, and calico--that's for dresses, and +muslin--that's for a lot of things. Maybe I'll sell something. But it +looks as if I'd be doin' nothin', that's what it does." + +He thought of the home folks and how his mother's mind would be ever +upon him during this his first important day. "Maybe I'm a bit like +little Jim--wantin' to do what I can't do. Maybe geese are my size," and +he smiled. "Well, then I'll tend to my geese and tend 'em good, so I +will." + +He began emptying his calico tables upon the counter. Mr. Farnham saw +him from the desk, and walked that way at once. "What's the matter, +Pat?" he inquired. + +"Sure I'm just gettin' acquainted with the goods, sir. I was thinkin' I +could sell better, if I knew what I'd got. I'll put 'em back, sir, when +I've looked 'em over." + +And entirely satisfied with his newest clerk, though Pat did not suspect +it, Mr. Farnham returned to his writing. + +Pat had often noticed and admired the way in which the dry goods clerks +ran off a length of goods, gathered it in folds, and held it up before +the customer. + +"If I thought nobody was lookin', I'd try it, so I would," he said to +himself. + +He glanced around. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention. Pat tried +it, and a funny affair he made of it. Mr. Farnham, who was only +apparently busy, had to exert all his will power to keep back a smile. +For Pat, with the fear of observers before his eyes, unrolled the web +with a softness that was almost sneaking; he held up the length with a +trembling hand and a reddening cheek; and, putting his head on one side, +regarded his imaginary customer with a shamefaced air that was most +amusing. + +Pat seemed to feel that he had made himself ridiculous. He sighed. +"There's too much style to it for me yet," he said. "I'll just have to +sell 'em plain goods without any flourishes. But I'll do it yet, so I +will, only I'll practice it at home." + +"And what did you be sellin' to-day, Pat dear?" asked his mother when at +half-past nine he entered the kitchen door. She would not ask him at +supper time. She wished to hear the sum total of the day's sales at +once, and she had prepared her mind for a long list of articles. + +"Well, mother," answered Pat drawing a long breath, "I sold two yards +and a half of gingham." + +The widow nodded. But Pat did not go on. + +"And what else, Pat dear?" + +"Nothin' else, mother." + +Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished. + +[Illustration: "Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished."] + +"That's little to be sellin' in a whole day," she observed. "Didn't you +sell no silks and velvets and laces?" + +"I'm not to sell them, mother." + +"And why not?" with a mystified air. + +"Sure and I don't know. I've just the calicoes and the ginghams and the +muslins." + +"Ah!" breathed the widow. And she sat silent in thought a while. The +small lamp on the pine table burned brightly, and it lit up Pat's face +so that with every glance his mother cast at him she read there the +discouragement he felt. + +"Pat dear," she began presently, "there's beginnin's in all things. And +the beginnin's is either at the bottom or at wan ind, depindin' which +way you're to go. Roads has their beginnin's at wan ind and runs on, +round corners, maybe, to the other ind. Permotions begin at the bottom. +You moind I was tellin' you 'twas loikely there was permotions in +stores?" + +Pat gazed at his mother eagerly. "Do you think so, mother?" + +"I think so. Else why should they put the last hand in to sweepin' out +and sellin' naught but ginghams and calicoes and muslins? And will you +be tellin' me what the b'y that swept out before you is sellin'?" +continued the little woman, anxious to prove the truth of her opinion. + +"Sure and he ain't sellin' nothin'," responded the son. "He ain't +there." + +"And why not?" interrogated Mrs. O'Callaghan. + +"I'm told he didn't do his work good." + +Mrs. O'Callaghan looked grave. "Well," she said, "there's a lesson for +them that needs it. There's gettin' out of stores as well as gettin' in, +so there is. And now, Pat, cheer up. 'Tis loikely sellin' things is a +business that's got to be larned the same as any other." + +"Well, but, mother, I know every piece I've got, and the price of it." + +"Can you measure 'em off handy and careless loike, so that a body +wonders if you ain't makin' a mistake, and measures 'em over after you +when they gets home, and then foinds it's all roight and trusts you the +nixt toime?" + +Pat was obliged to admit that he could not. + +"And can you tie up a bundle quick and slick and make it look neat?" + +Again Pat had to acknowledge his deficiency. + +His mother regarded him with an air of triumph. "I knowed I could put my +finger on the trouble if I thought about it. You've got it in you to +sell, else Mr. Farnham wouldn't have asked for you. But he wants you for +what you can do after a while more than for what you can do now. +Remimber your beds and your cookin', Pat, and don't be bakin' beans by +your own receipt down there to the store. It's a foine chance you've +got, so 'tis. Maybe you'll be sellin' more to-morrow. And another thing, +do you belave you've got jist as good calicoes and ginghams and muslins +to sell as there is in town?" + +"Yes, mother, I know I have." + +"Then you've got to make the ladies belave it, too. And it won't be such +a hard job, nayther, if you do your best. If they don't like wan thing, +show 'em another. There's them among 'em as is hard to plaze, and +remimber you don't know much about the ladies anyhow, havin' had to do +only with your mother and Mrs. Gineral Brady. And there's different +sorts of ladies, too, so there is, as you'll foind. It's a smart man as +can plaze the half of 'em, but you'll come to it in time, if you try. +Your father had a great knack at plazin' people, so he had, Pat. For +folks mostly loikes them that will take pains for 'em; and your father +was always obligin'. And you are, too, Pat, but kape on at it. Folks +ain't a-goin' to buy nothin', if they can help it, from a clerk that +ain't obligin'. Sellin' goods is pretty much loike doin' housework, +you'll foind, only it's different." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +"Pat," said his mother the next morning at breakfast, "what's that book +you used to be studyin' that larns you to talk roight?" + +"Grammar, mother." + +"Well, then, your studyin' has done you small good, for you talk pretty +much the way I do mysilf, and niver a bit of that book did I be larnin' +in my loife. It don't make a bit of difference what you know, if you +don't go and _do_ what you know. But you're not too old to begin +over again, Pat, and practice talkin' roight. Roight talkin' will help +you in the store. You've got in, and that's only half of it, for you'll +not stay in if you don't do your best. And that's why helpin' a body +don't do so much good after all." + +Pat blushed, and the widow felt a little compassion. She threw increased +confidence into her tone as she went on. "Not as anybody thinks you +won't stay, Pat, for, of course, you'll do your best. But about your +talkin'--you'll need somebody to watch you close, and somebody that +loves you well enough to tell you your mistakes koindly, and Andy's the +b'y to do it. He's the wan among you all that talks roight, for he loves +his book, do you moind." + +And now it was Andy's turn to blush, while the widow smiled upon him. "I +hear a many of them grammar folks talk," she said, "and it's mysilf that +sees you talk jist loike 'em, barrin' the toimes when you don't. And +them's not so many, nayther." + +At this little Jim scowled scornfully, but of him his mother took no +notice as she looked around with pride upon her sons. + +"And it's proud I am to be havin' all sorts of b'ys in my family, +barrin' bad wans," she continued. "I'll jist be tryin' to larn a little +better ways of talkin' mysilf, so I will, not as I think there's much +chance for me, and, as there's no good of waitin' till you get as old as +Pat, Jim, you'll be takin' heed to Andy's talkin'. Andy's the talker as +would have plazed his father, for his father loiked everything done +roight, so he did." + +It was pleasant to see Andy's sensitive face glow with delight at being +thus publicly commended by that potentate of the family, his mother. +Mrs. O'Callaghan saw it. "And did you think I wasn't noticin' because I +didn't say nothin'?" she asked him. + +Then turning to the rest, "B'ys, you mostly niver knows what folks is +a-noticin' by what they says--that is, to your face--but you sometoimes +foinds out by hearin' what they've been sayin' behoind your back. And, +by the same token, it's mostly bad they says behoind your back." + +"I don't want to be larnin' from Andy," interrupted Jim. "He's but two +years older than me anyway." + +The widow eyed him severely. "Well, Jim, is it bigger and older than Pat +you are? Pat's goin' to larn from Andy. And is it older than your mother +you are, that's forty years old? Sure I'm goin' to larn from Andy." + +But Jim still appeared rebellious. + +"Some of these days little Barney and Tommie and Larry will be set to +larn from you. Take care they're not set to larn what not to do from +lookin' at you. 'Tis Andy that's got the gift ne'er a wan of us has, and +he'll show us how to profit by it, if we has sinse. It's thinkin' I am +your father, if he was here, would not have been above touchin' up his +own talkin' a bit under Andy's teachin'. Your father was for larnin' all +he could, no matter who from, old or young." + +Now the widow might have talked long to Jim without affecting him much, +but for one thing. She had said that Andy had a gift that all the rest +lacked. He resolved from that moment that he would talk better than Andy +yet, or know why. + +A pretty big resolve for so young a boy, but Jim could not endure to +yield the supremacy to Andy in anything. Pat and Mike he was content to +look up to, but Andy was too near his own age, and too small and frail +to challenge Jim's respect. + +That morning Jim said little, but his ears were open. Every sentence +that Andy spoke was carefully listened to, but the little fellow went to +school not much enlightened. He could see the difference between his +speech and Andy's, but he could not see what made the difference. And +ask Andy he wouldn't. + +"I'll be askin' the teacher, so I will," he thought. + +That morning at recess, a small, red-headed, belligerent-looking boy, +with a pair of mischievous blue eyes, went up to Miss Slocum's desk. But +the eyes were not mischievous now. They were very earnest as they gazed +up into his teacher's face. + +"Plaze, ma'am, will you be sayin': I'll be larnin' it yet, so I will?" + +Miss Slocum was surprised. "What did you say, Jim?" she asked. + +"Plaze, ma'am, will you say: I'll be larnin' it yet, so I will?" + +Miss Slocum smiled, and obligingly repeated, "I'll be larnin' it yet, so +I will." + +"No," said Jim. "That's the way I said it. Say it right." + +"Say it right!" exclaimed Miss Slocum. + +"Yes, say it like the grammar book." + +"Oh," said Miss Slocum wonderingly. "I _will_ learn it yet. Is that +what you wanted?" + +"Yes, ma'am. Will you be tellin' me some more when I want to know it?" + +"Certainly," responded the gratified teacher, whereat Jim went away +satisfied. He smiled to himself knowingly, as he caught sight of Andy at +a distance on the campus. "I'll not be askin' him nayther," he said. "I +_will_ learn it yet." + +As for Pat, he went to the store that same morning a trifle +disconsolate. He was fond of trade, but he knew almost nothing of dry +goods; and here was his mother counseling him to improve his speech, and +holding up to him the warning that his own inefficiency might lose him +his place. + +"Well, I know how to sweep and dust, anyway," he thought as he unlocked +the store door, went in and took up his broom. As thoroughly as before +he went over everything, but much more quickly, not having the +accumulated shiftlessness of former boys to contend with. And Mr. +Farnham, on his arrival, found everything spotless. + +Customers at Pat's department that day found a very silent clerk, but +one eager to oblige. Many times before he went home for the night did he +display every piece of goods in his charge, and that with such an +evident wish to please, that his sales were considerable. And the widow +heard his report at bedtime with something like satisfaction. + +"And what did you say to make 'em buy?" she inquired. + +"Well, mother, I mostly didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say, +and I couldn't say it right, neither, and so I just watched, and if they +so much as turned their eyes on a piece, I got it out of the pile and +showed it to 'em. I just wished with all my might to sell to 'em, and I +sold to 'em." + +His mother's eyes were fixed on him, and she nodded her head +approvingly. "Sure and if you couldn't do no better, that was good +enough, so 'twas," was her comment. "You'll larn. But didn't nobody say +nothin' to you?" + +"They did, mother, of course." + +"And who was they that spoke to you and what about?" + +"Well, mother, there was old Mrs. Barter, for one. She's awful stingy. +I've seen her more than once in the groceries. Always a-wantin' +everything a little lower, and grumblin' because the quality wasn't +good. Them grocers' clerks mostly hates her, I believe. And they don't +want to wait on her, none of 'em. 'Twas her, I'm told, washed up two or +three of them wooden butter dishes and took 'em up and wanted to sell +'em back to them she got her butter from." + +"Ah!" said Mrs. O'Callaghan, with her eyes sympathetically upon her son. + +"And she was to buy of you to-day, was she?" + +"Yes, mother." + +"And did she buy anything?" + +"She did." + +"What was it?" + +"A calico dress." + +"And how come she to do it?" + +"I don't know. She begun by lookin' everything over and runnin' +everything down. And at last she took hold of a piece, and says she, +'Come, young man, I've seen you a-buyin' more than once. Can you tell me +this is a good piece that won't fade?' 'I can, ma'am,' says I. 'You +won't find no better in town.' + +"'Ah! but you're sellin',' says she. 'Would you tell your mother the +same?' And she looked at me sharp. + +"'I would, ma'am,' says I. + +"'Then I'll take it,' says she. 'I've not watched you for nothin'.'" + +"And then what?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan eagerly. This, in her opinion, +was a triumph for Pat. + +"Why, nothin', mother, only I wrapped it up and give it to her, and I +says, Come again, ma'am,' and she says, 'I will, young man, you may +depend.'" + +The little woman regarded him proudly. But all she said was: "When +you're doin' well, Pat, the thing is to see if you can't do better. You +had others a-buyin' of you to-day, I hope?" + +"Yes, mother." + +"'Tis too late to hear about it to-night, for 'tis good sleep that +sharpens the wits. And the broightest wits will bear that koind of +sharpening', so they will. I wouldn't be knowin' what to do half the +time if it wasn't for sleepin' good of nights. And, by the same token, +if any of them high-steppin' clerks comes around with a cigar and +a-wantin' you to go here and yon of nights, jist remimber that your wits +is your stock in trade, and Mr. Farnham's not wantin' dull wans about +him, nayther." + +Thus having headed off any designs that might be had upon Pat, his +mother went to sharpen her own wits for whatever the morrow might have +in store for her. + +And now a change began to come over Jim. He left his younger brothers in +unhectored peace. He had not much to say, but ever he watched Andy from +the corner of a jealous eye, and listened for him to speak. All his +pugnacity was engaged in what seemed to be a profitless struggle with +the speech of the grammar. "I _will_ larn it yet," he repeated over +and over. And even while the words were in his mouth, if he had had less +obstinacy in his make-up, he would have yielded himself to despair. But +a good thing happened to him. Miss Slocum, not knowing his ignoble +motive, and seeing a very earnest child striving to improve himself, set +about helping him in every possible way. + +One day she called him to her. "Jim," she said, "asking me questions is +slow work. Suppose I correct you every time you make a mistake?" + +"Yes, ma'am," answered Jim vaguely, not knowing the meaning of +_correct_. + +"You don't understand me?" + +"No, ma'am." + +"_Correct_ means to make right. Suppose I set you right whenever +you go wrong?" + +"That's it!" cried Jim enthusiastically. "That's it! I can larn that way +sure." + +"_Learn_, not _larn_, Jim." + +Jim looked at her. "'Tis learn and not larn I'll be sayin'," he +declared. + +"Not _I'll be sayin'_," corrected Miss Slocum, "but _I'll +say_." + +"_Learn_, not _larn_, and _I'll say_, not _I'll be +sayin'_," amended the obedient Jim, and then he sped away. + +And that night he did what never a child of Mrs. O'Callaghan's had done +before. The family were at supper. Pat, paying good heed to his tongue, +was manifestly improving, and the widow was congratulating him in her +own way. + +"What did I be sayin' to you, Pat dear? Did I be tellin' you you wasn't +too old to larn? And I'll be sayin' it again, so I will." + +"_Larn's_ not the right of it," interrupted Jim. "_Learn's_ +what you ought to be sayin'. _I'll be sayin'_ ain't right, +nayther," he continued. "It's _I'll say_," and he looked very +important. + +Pat and Andy regarded him in displeased astonishment, but the widow +could take care of her own. + +"And it's glad I am to see that you know so much, Jim," she said +quietly. "What more do you know? Let's hear it." + +Thus brought to book Jim grew confused. He blushed and stammered under +the unfavorable regard of his mother and two older brothers, and finally +confessed that he knew nothing more. At which Barney and Tommie nudged +each other. They did not understand what all the talk was about, but +they could see that Jim was very red in the face, and not at all at his +ease, and their beforetime hectored little selves rejoiced. + +"B'ys," said the mother, "I told you if your blessed father was here +he'd not be above learning from any one, old or young. And he wouldn't, +nayther. And sure he said _larn_ himsilf. And from Jim here he'd +learn better than that, and he'd learn, too, how them that knows very +little is the quickest to make a show of it. But kape on, Jim. It's glad +I am you know the difference betwane _larn_ and _learn_, and +sure the only difference is that wan's wrong and the other's roight." + +Jim had hoped to quite extinguish Andy by his corrections, and he hardly +knew where he was when his mother finished; and he was still more abroad +when Pat took him out after supper and vigorously informed him that bad +manners were far worse than bad grammar. + +"Well, well," thought the widow that evening as she waited alone for +Pat, "Jim do be gettin' ahead of me, that he do. He's loike to have the +consate, so he is, take him down as a body will. But there's wan good +thing about it. While he's studyin' to beat us all on the talkin' he's +lettin' the little b'ys alone famous. He didn't never do much to 'em, +but he jist riled 'em completely, so he did, and made 'em cross at +iverybody." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +A month went along very quietly and, following that, another month. The +weeds that had flourished along the sides of the ditches were all dead. +No more did the squawking O'Callaghan geese delight themselves among +them. The kitchen stove had long been brought back into the shanty, and +Barney and Tommie, sitting close behind it on their short evenings that +ended in bedtime at half-past seven o'clock, had only the remembrance of +their labors. But that memory sweetened the prospect of savory dinners +to come, for even Barney and Tommie liked to feel that they were of some +importance in the family world. Often had their mother praised them for +their care of the geese, and once she had bought for them a whole +nickel's worth of candy and had bestowed this great treat with the +words, "And how could I be havin' geese only for the little b'ys? You'll +jist be givin' Larry a bit, for sure and he'll be past four nixt summer, +and helpin' you loike anything." + +The candy, like the summer, was only a memory now, but, without putting +their hope into words, there lingered in the minds of the two an +anticipation of more candy to come. + +As for Larry, he lived from day to day and took whatever came his way +cheerfully, which he might well do, since he was a general pet wherever +he was known. + +But now a new difficulty confronted the widow. Snowtime had come. How +was she to get Larry along to her wash places? She was sitting late one +Friday afternoon thinking about it. All day the snow had been falling, +and many times, in the early dusk, had Jim been out to measure the depth +with his legs. And each time he returned he had worn a more gratified +smile. + +"Well, Jim," said his mother finally, "you do be grinnin' foine ivery +toime you come in, and a lot of wet you're bringin' with you, too, +a-stampin' the snow off on the floor. You'll remimber that toimes are +changed. Wanst it was old men as had the rheumatism, but now b'ys can +have it, to say nothin' of colds and sore throats and doctors' bills. +You'll stay in now. The snow can deepen without you, I'm thinkin'." + +Thus admonished, Jim went with a bad grace to wash his hands, and then +to set the table for supper. + +Presently in came Pat. + +"Where's the clothes basket, mother?" he inquired. "I'll be bringing in +the clothes from the line for you." + +Mrs. O'Callaghan handed him the basket with a smile, and out went Mr. +Farnham's newest clerk to the summer kitchen, under whose roof the line +was stretched in parallel lengths. + +"I couldn't be dryin' the clothes in the house with no place to put 'em, +but the new kitchen's the thing, so 'tis," the mother had said. "Clothes +will dry there famous, 'specially when it's rainin' or snowin'. Pat and +Moike did a good thing when they made it. I've heard tell of them as has +dryin' rooms for winter, and 'tis mysilf has wan of 'em." + +These were the words that had caused Pat to smile with pleasure, and had +stirred Mike's heart with determination to do yet more for his mother. +And that same evening the widow's sturdy second son came to the shanty, +and behind him on the snow bumped and slid his newest handiwork--a sled +for Larry to ride on. + +"And what have you got there?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan when he dragged it +into the house. + +"A sled!" cried Barney and Tommie together, pausing on their bedward +way, and opening wide their sleepy eyes. + +"And 'twas mysilf was wonderin' how to get Larry along with me!" +exclaimed the mother when Mike had explained the object of the sled. +"What's the good of me wonderin' when I've got Moike for my b'y? 'Twas +his father as would have made a sled jist loike it, I'm thinkin'. But +Moike," as she saw the light of affection in his eyes, "you'll be +spoilin' me. Soon I'll not be wonderin' any more, but I'll be sayin', +'Moike will fix it some way.'" + +"Will you, mother?" cried the boy. "Will you promise me that?" + +"Moike! Moike!" said the widow, touched by his eager look and tone, +"what a b'y you are for questions! Would I be layin' all my burdens on +you, when it's six brothers you've got? 'Twouldn't be fair to you. But +to know you're so ready and willin' loightens my ivery load, and it's a +comfort you are to me. Your father was always for makin' easy toimes for +other people, and you're loike him, Moike. And now I've something else +to be talkin' of. Will you be havin' the goose for Gineral and Mrs. +Brady to-morrow?" + +"I will, mother," answered Mike respectfully. + +"Then, Moike, when you get ready to go back, you'll foind the foinest +wan of the lot all by himsilf in a box Pat brought from the store. Mr. +Farnham give it to him, though he mostly sells 'em. And I've larned that +goose to slape in it, so I have, and an awful job it was, too. Geese and +pigs now, Moike, are slow to larn. But he knows his place at last, so he +does, and you'll foind him in it." + +Then catching sight, around the corner of the table, of the enraptured +two on the kitchen floor busy over the new family treasure, she cried: +"Now, Barney and Tommie, to bed with you, and dream of havin' the sled +Saturdays, for that's what you shall have. 'Tis Moike makes the treats +for us all." + + * * * * * + +That evening at half-past nine there was a knock on the sitting-room +door. + +"Come!" called the General. + +The door opened and in walked Mike with the sleek goose under his arm. + +"My mother's sending you a goose, Mrs. Brady," he said with a bow. + +The Bradys were already much attached to Mike; and the General had been +heard to say that the very name of O'Callaghan seemed to be a +certificate of worthiness. So the goose was made much of and the next +time Mike went home he carried a bunch of roses from Mrs. Brady. + +"And sure 'tis roses as are the gift of a lady!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan, +receiving the flowers with an air of pride. "There's some as would have +took the goose as their due and have made you feel loike dirt under +their feet while they was takin' it. But the General and Mrs. Brady are +quite another sort. And it's proud I am that they et the goose and found +it good. Though it wouldn't have been good nayther if you hadn't cooked +it good, Moike. There's them as can cook 'most anything and have it +good, jist as there's them as can spoil the best. And now, Moike, I've +news for you. But first do you notice how clean Jim kapes things? Him +and Andy makes a foine team, so they do." + +Mike looked about him with a critical air that increased in mock +severity as he saw little Jim rapidly donning his regalia of importance. +"See a speck of dust if you can," spoke Jim's look. And then Mike was +lavish with his praise. + +"You don't kape Mrs. Brady's things no cleaner, do you, Moike?" + +"I don't, mother, for I can't," was the answer. Hearing which, Jim +became pompous, and the widow judged that she might tell her news +without unduly rousing up his jealousy. + +"Well, then, Moike, you'll niver be guessin' the news, only maybe you've +heard it already, for 'tis school news. Andy's to be set ahead of his +class into the nixt higher wan. It's proud I am, for ivery family needs +a scholar, so it does." + +Mike turned upon Andy a look of affectionate interest. "I hadn't heard +your news, mother, but it's good news, and I'm glad to hear it," he said +heartily. + +"I knowed you would be glad, Moike, for 'tis yoursilf as sees that when +your brother gets up you get up with him. It's bad when wan brother +thinks to be gettin' ahead of all the rest." And she looked gravely at +Jim. "Brothers are made each wan to do his part, and be glad when wan +and another gets up." + +But little Jim appeared discontented. All this praise of Andy quite took +the edge off what he himself had received. His mother sighed. + +"But I'll not give him up yet," she thought after a moment. "No, I'll +not give him up, for he's Tim's b'y, though most unlike him. I do moind +hearin' wanst that Tim had a brother of that sort. Jim's loike him, no +doubt, and he come to a bad end, so he did, a-gettin' to be an agitator, +as they calls 'em. And sure what's an agitator but wan that's sour at +iverybody's good luck but his own, and his own good luck turnin' out bad +on account of laziness and consate? I'm needin' more wisdom than I've +got when I'd be dealin' with Jim." + +While the mother sat silent her sons were talking together in low tones. +Andy and Jim told of the rabbits they had trapped in the hazel brush, +and how they had eaten some and some they had sold in the stores. And +Mike, in his turn, told them how many rabbits there were in the Brady +neighborhood, and how nobody seemed to wish to have them disturbed. + +"What are they good for, if you can't catch 'em?" asked Jim, who could +never catch enough. + +"Good to look pretty hopping about, I guess," responded Mike. + +"Huh!" exclaimed Jim, who, like many a one older than he, had small +respect for opinions that clashed with his own. + +"He'll be turnin' to be an agitator sure, only maybe I can head him +off," thought the mother, who had been idly listening. + +"Jim," she said, "'twas your father as was iver for hearin' both sides +of iverything. If there's them that thinks rabbits looks pretty jumpin' +around, why, no doubt they do. 'Tisn't iverybody that's trappin', you'll +moind. If you was a horse now, you'd be called strong in the mouth, and +you'd need a firm hand on the lines. And if you'd been brung up among +horses, as your father was, you'd know as them obstinate wans as wants +the bits in their teeth are the wans as gets the beatin's. You're no +horse, but things will go crossways to you all your loife if you don't +do different. When there's nayther roight nor wrong in the matter let +iverybody have their own way." + +And then little Jim became downright sulky. + +[Illustration: "Little Jim became downright sulky."] + +"Rabbits is for trappin'," he said stubbornly. + +"Well, well," thought the widow, "I'll have to be waitin' a bit. But +I'll be makin' something out of Jim yet." + +Then she turned to Mike. "And how are you comin' on at the Gineral's?" +she inquired. "It's hopin' I am you're watchin' him close and larnin' to +be loike him." + +"I'm trying, mother," was the modest answer. + +Mrs. O'Callaghan nodded approvingly. "A pattern's a good thing for us +all to go by," she said. "Your father's gone, and you can only be loike +him by heedin' to what I'm tellin' you about him. But the Gineral you +can see for yoursilves. If you can get to be loike your father and the +Gineral both, it's proud I'll be of you. And I will say that you're +a-comin' to it, Moike. + +"And there's another thing. The little b'ys has their chance, too. And +it's because Andy here takes as natural to bein' a gintleman as thim +geese takes to squawkin'. Whether it's loikin' his book or what it is, +he's the wan to have handy for the little b'ys to pattern by. As far as +he's gone he knows, and he can't be beat in knowin' how to treat other +folks nice. And he's that quiet about what he knows that you wouldn't +think he knows anything only for seein' him act it out." + +And now little Jim was completely miserable. Constantly craving praise +was little Jim, and the loss of it was torture to him. The widow glanced +at him out of the corner of her eye. She saw it was time to relieve him. + +"But there's wan thing Jim's got that no other wan of my b'ys has," she +continued. + +Jim pricked up his ears. + +"He's the born foighter, is Jim. If he was big now, and there was a war +to come, he'd be a soldier, I'm thinkin'. He's for foightin' iverything, +even the words of a body's mouth." + +This praise might be equivocal, but little Jim did not so understand it, +and his pride returned. + +His mother observed it. "But what you need, Jim," she went on, "is to be +takin' a tuck in yoursilf. Look at the Gineral. Does he go foightin' in +toimes of peace? That he don't. Will you look at the Gineral, Jim?" + +Now Pat and Mike had been instructed to look at the General as their +pattern. This appeal was placing Jim alongside of his two big brothers. + +"Will you look at the Gineral, Jim?" repeated Mrs. O'Callaghan. + +"I will," said Jim. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Jim was enterprising. Far more enterprising than anybody gave him credit +for. He had been set to copy the General, and that night as he lay down +to sleep he resolved to outdo Pat and Mike. The little boys were +insignificant in his eyes as he thought of what was before him, and even +Andy offered small food for jealousy. To excel the two big boys was +worth trying for. + +Now the General was more familiar to Jim's ears than to his eyes. He at +once resolved to remedy that. + +"I'll have to be followin' him around and be seein' how he does, so I +will," he told himself. "And I'll have to be gettin' my work done quick +to be doin' it." + +Accordingly he hustled through the dishwashing at a great rate the next +morning, for his mother had lately decided that he might wash the dishes +as well as wipe them. The dusting, usually carefully done, was a whisk +here and a wipe there in the most exposed places. By such means did he +obtain a half hour of extra time, and off he went up the railroad track +on his way to General Brady's. He soon came to the point where he must +leave the track for the street, and, the street being comparatively +unused and so without a pavement, he was compelled to wade the snow. +Into it with his short legs he plunged, only anxious to reach the house +before the General started down town. And he was almost out of breath +when he came to the corner and turned south on the cleared sidewalk. On +he hurried and around to the kitchen door. + +"Is he gone?" he inquired, poking his head into the room where his +brother was busily washing dishes. + +Mike stared. The door had opened so softly, the words were so +breathless, and the little boy so very red in the face. "Who?" he asked +in astonishment. + +"The Gineral," said Jim impatiently. + +"Just going," returned Mike. And at the words Jim was out with the door +shut behind him. + +"What's got into little Jim?" thought Mike. Out of the yard flew Jim, +and took on an air of indifferent loitering as he waited. Yes, there +came the General. How broad his shoulders were! How straight his back! +How firm his tread! At sight of all this little Jim squared himself and, +a half block in the rear, walked imitatively down the street. It was all +very well for his mother to say that Jim was a born fighter. But she had +entirely overlooked the fact that he was a born mimic also. + +Here and there a smiling girl ran to the window to gaze after the two as +they passed--the stately old General and his ridiculous little copy. But +it was when they neared the square that the guffaws began. The General, +being slightly deaf, did not notice, and little Jim was so intent on +following copy that he paid no attention. Thus they went the entire +length of the east side of the square, and then along the south side +until, at the southwest corner, the old soldier disappeared in the +doorway of the bank. By this time little Jim's shoulders were aching +from the restraint put upon them, for Jim was not naturally erect. And +his long walk at what was, to him, an usually slow pace had made his +nose blue with cold. But instead of running off to get warm he pressed +close against the big window and peered in at his pattern. He knew his +back and his walk now, and he wanted to see his face. + +Presently one of the amused spectators stepped into the bank and spoke a +few words to its president, and the General turned to look at the little +fellow. + +"Who is he?" he asked. + +"One of your O'Callaghans, General," was the laughing answer. + +The General flushed. Then he beckoned to Jim, who immediately came in. + +"Go back to the stove and get warm, my boy," he said. "You look cold." + +Jim obeyed and presently the General's friend went out. + +"Now, my boy," said the General, walking back to the stove, "what did +you mean by following me?" + +Little Jim's blue eyes looked up into the blue eyes of the old soldier. +"Our eyes is the same color," he thought. And then he answered: "My +mother told me to be makin' a pattern out of you. She told the same to +Pat and Mike, too, and I'm goin' to do it better than they do, see if I +don't. Why, they don't walk fine and straight like you do. But I can do +it. I larned this morning." + +The General laughed. "And what were you peering in at the window for?" + +"Sure and I wanted to be watchin' your face, so I did. 'Tis my mother as +says I'm the born fighter, and she says, 'Look at the General. Does he +be goin' round fightin' in times of peace? That he don't.' And she wants +me to be like you and I'm goin' to be." + +"What's your name?" + +"Jim." + +"Well, Jim, I don't think your mother meant that you should follow me +through the street and try to walk like me. And you must not do so any +more." + +"But I knows how now, sir," objected Jim, who was loth to discard his +new accomplishment. + +"Nevertheless you must not follow me about and imitate my movements any +more," forbade the General. + +"And how am I to be like you then, if you won't let me do the way you +do?" + +For a moment the General seemed perplexed. Then he opened the door and +motioned Jim out. "Ask your mother," he said. + +"I won't," declared little Jim obstinately, when he found himself in the +street. "I won't ask her." + +But he did. The coasting was excellent on a certain hill, and the hill +was only a short distance northwest of the O'Callaghan home. + +"'Twill do Andy good to have a bit of a change and eat wanst of a supper +he ain't cooked," the widow had said. And so it was that she was alone, +save for Larry, when Jim came in after school. Presently the whole +affair of the morning came out, and Mrs. O'Callaghan listened with +horrified ears. + +"And do you know how that looked to them that seen you?" she asked +severely. "Sure and it looked loike you was makin' fun of the Gineral." + +"But I wasn't," protested little Jim. + +"Sure and don't I know that? Would a b'y of mine be makin' fun of +Gineral Brady?" + +"He said I wasn't to do it no more," confided little Jim humbly. + +The widow nodded approbation. "And what did you say then?" she asked. + +"I says to him, 'How can I get to be like you, sir, when you won't let +me do the way you do?'" + +"And then?" + +"Then he opened the door, and his hand said, 'Go outside.' And just as I +was goin' he said, 'Ask your mother.'" + +"'Twasn't for naught he got made a gineral," commented Mrs. O'Callaghan. +"'Tis himsilf as knows a b'y's mother is the wan. For who is it else can +see how he's so full of brag he's loike to boorst and a-wantin' to do +big things till he can't dust good nor wash the plates clean? Dust on +the father's chair, down on the rockers where you thought it wouldn't +show, and egg on the plates, and them piled so slick wan on top of the +other and lookin' as innocent as if they felt thimsilves quite clean. +Ah, Jim! Jim!" + +The widow's fourth son blushed. He cast a hasty glance over the room and +was relieved to see that Larry, his mother's only other auditor, was +playing busily in a corner. + +Mrs. O'Callaghan went on. She had Jim all to herself and she meant to +improve her chance. + +"You haint got the hang of this ambition business, Jim. That's the +trouble. You're always tryin' to do some big thing and beat somebody. +'Tis well you should know the Lord niver puts little b'ys and big jobs +together. He gives the little b'ys a chance at the little jobs, and them +as does the little jobs faithful gets to be the men that does the big +jobs easy." + +Jim now sought to turn the conversation, the doctrine of faithfulness in +small things not being at all to his taste. "And will _I_ be havin' +a bank, too, like the Gineral?" he asked. + +His mother looked at him. "There you go again, Jim," she said. "And sure +how can I tell whether you'll have a bank or not? 'Tisn't all the good +foightin' men as has banks. But you might try for it. And if you've got +a bank in your eye, you'd best pay particular attintion to your dustin' +and your dishwashin'. Them's your two first steps." + +Little Jim pondered as well as he was able. It seemed to him that the +first steps to everything in life, according to his mother, were dusting +and dishwashing. His face was downcast and he put the dishes on the +table in an absent-minded way. + +"What are you thinkin' about, Jim?" asked his mother after many a +sidelong glance at him. "Cheer up!" + +"Ain't there no other first steps?" he asked gloomily. + +"Not for you, Jim. And it's lucky you are that you don't loike the +dustin' and the dishwashin'." + +Jim was evidently mystified. + +"Because, do you see, Jim, iverybody has got to larn sooner or later to +do things they don't loike to do. You've begun in toime, so you have, +and, if you kape on, you can get a lot of it done before you come to the +place where you can do what you loike, such as kapin' a bank and that. +But it's no business. The Gineral's business was foightin', you know. He +kapes a bank jist to pass the toime." + +Little Jim's eyes widened. Here was a new outlook for him. + +"But you must do 'em good," admonished his mother. "There's nothin' but +bad luck goes with poor dustin' and dirty dishwashin'. And spakin' of +luck, it's lucky you are I caught you at it the first toime you done 'em +bad, for, do you see, I'll be lookin' out for you now for a good bit +jist to be seein' that you're a b'y that can be trusted. It's hopin' I +am you'll be loike your father, for 'twas your father as could be +trusted ivery toime. And now I've a plan for you. We'll be havin' Moike +to show you how they lays the table at the Gineral's. 'Twill be a foine +thing for you to larn, and 'twill surprise Pat, and be a good thing for +the little b'ys to see. Them little b'ys don't get the chance to see +much otherwheres, and they'll have to be larnin' their manners to home, +so they will. Pat and Moike with the good manners about eatin' they've +larned at the Gineral's, and the little b'ys without a manner to their +back! Sure and 'twill be a lesson to 'em to see the table when you've +larned to set it roight." + +Jim brightened at once. He had had so much lesson himself to-day that it +was a great pleasure to think of his younger brothers being instructed +in their turn. In they came at that moment, their red little hands +tingling with cold. But they were hilarious, for kind-hearted Andy had +taken them to the hill, and over and over they had whizzed down its long +length with him. At another time Jim might have been jealous; but +to-night he regarded them from the vantage ground of his superior +information concerning them. They were to be instructed. And Jim knew +it, if they did not. He placed the chairs with dignity, and hoped +instruction might prove as unwelcome to Barney and Tommie as it was to +him. And as they jounced down into their seats the moment the steaming +supper was put upon the table, and gazed at it with eager, hungry eyes, +and even gave a sniff or two, he felt that here was a field for +improvement, indeed. And he smiled. Not that Jim was a bad boy, or a +malicious one, but when Barney and Tommie were wrong, it was the thing +that they should be set right, of course. + +[Illustration: "In they came at that moment"] + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Pat had now been in Mr. Farnham's employ two months and more, and never +had his faithfulness slackened. He had caught the knack of measuring +goods easily and tying up packages neatly. He could run off a length of +calico and display it to any customer that came to him, and what most +endeared him to Mr. Farnham was that he could sell. + +"Best clerk I ever had," the merchant told himself. But he did not +advance this "best clerk" although Pat longed and hoped for promotion. +Upon every opportunity he studied dress goods at the front end of the +store, and carpets and cloaks at the rear. And day by day he went on +patiently selling prints, ginghams and muslins. + +"'Tis the best things as are longest a-comin' sometimes," said his +mother encouragingly. "Are you sellin' what you've got as well as you +know how?" + +"I am, mother." + +"Well, if you are, be sure Mr. Farnham knows it, and, by the same token, +he'd be knowin' it if you was gapin' in the customers' faces or hummin' +or whistlin' soft like while you waited on 'em. Mr. Wall had a clerk +wanst that done that way. I've seen him. And, by the same token, he +ain't got him now. Ladies don't care for hummin' and whistlin' when +they're buyin' goods." + +And now trade was growing heavier. The other clerks were overburdened, +while Pat in his humble place had little to do. Suddenly there came a +call for him at the dress counter. A lady had come in and both the other +clerks were busy. She was one who continually lamented in an injured +tone of voice that she lived in so small a town as Wennott, and she +rarely made purchases there. Her name was Mrs. Pomeroy. + +"Let us see if Pat sells her anything. It will be a wonder if he does," +thought Mr. Farnham. + +Languidly Mrs. Pomeroy examined this and that in an uninterested way, +and all the time Pat was paying the closest attention, trying to +discover just what she wanted. His heart was beating fast. If only he +could make a sale, what might it not mean to him? + +"Here is a pattern for a street dress, madam." Pat's voice was musical, +and his manner most respectful. Mrs. Pomeroy felt interested and +attracted at once. She looked on while Pat drew out the dress pattern +from its box, displaying to advantage its soft coloring and fine +texture. + +Mrs. Pomeroy put her head on one side and regarded it through half-shut +eyes. + +"The only pattern of exactly its sort and color," said the persuasive +voice of Pat. He had learned from the other clerks that this was a great +recommendation to a piece of goods and helped to sell it. + +Mrs. Pomeroy reflected. + +She asked the price and reflected again, and all the time she noticed +that Pat's interest was real and not simulated; that he was doing his +best to please her. She liked the goods, but not better than a pattern +she had seen at Wall's. But Wall's clerks were inattentive and +indifferent. They had an air that said "There are the goods. Buy 'em or +leave 'em. 'Tis nothing to us." + +She was thinking of this as well as of the dress goods before her and +finally she said, "You may wrap the pattern up. I will take it." + +Then did Pat's eyes dance with delight, and he thought of his mother. +But it was only a glancing thought, for in a second he was saying: "Mr. +Farnham has gloves to match." + +"I will look at them." + +To look was to buy when Pat was salesman, and, in a few moments, the +happiest clerk in the store, Pat walked modestly back to his own place. + +"Well done, Pat!" exclaimed Mr. Farnham, going up to him. "I wish you +would keep an eye on the dress counter, and, whenever another clerk is +needed, attend there." + +"I will, sir," answered Pat gratefully. + +Three times more was Pat needed before the day closed, and every time he +made a good sale. + +As usual Mrs. O'Callaghan was waiting alone for Pat. She was extremely +tired and almost despondent. For to earn what she could and keep her +sons up to the mark she had set for them was a great strain on her. And +she missed her husband. More and more she missed him. "Ah, Tim!" she +cried, "'twas a great thing you done for me when you taught our b'ys +that moind me they must and that without questions about it. Only for +that I couldn't do much with 'em. And without you it's hard enough, so +it is. I hain't never laid finger on wan of 'em, and I won't nayther, +for sure they're not beasts but b'ys. I mistrust my hardest toimes are +ahead of me. Pat and Moike and Andy don't trouble me none. Sure and a +bloind man can see them three is all roight. But Jim and Barney and +Tommie and Larry now--how can I be tellin' what's comin' of them? And I +can't set the big b'ys over 'em only to take care of 'em loike, for sure +b'ys as are worth anything won't be bossed by their big brothers. They +sees the unfairness of it." + +And then intruding upon her thoughts came a boy's merry whistle; a +whistle that told of a heart where happiness was bubbling up and +overflowing, and the whistling came nearer and nearer. + +"Whativer do be makin' Pat come home with a tune loike that?" she asked. +And she half rose as Pat's hand opened the door and the tall young +fellow stepped in. The tiny lamp was very bright, and in its light the +boy's eyes were brilliant. + +"Well, Pat!" exclaimed his mother. "The lamp's but a poor match for your +eyes to-night. You've got news for me. What is it?" + +And Pat told with an eager tongue how, at last, he had a chance to +attend at the dress counter when the two regular clerks there were busy +and another one was needed. + +The widow was silent a moment. It was not quite what she had hoped to +hear, knowing her Pat as she did, but she was determined to keep her +son's courage up. So she said, "Well, then, if you've got so far, it +rests with yoursilf to go farther. 'Tis a blessed thing that there are +such a many things in this world a-restin' on a body's lone silf. But +there's them that niver foinds it out, and that goes about layin' their +own blame here, there and yon." + +Pat's elation lasted him overnight and even well on into the next day. +And that day was more wonderful than the one before it. For, about the +middle of the forenoon, General Brady came into the store and walked +back to Mr. Farnham's desk, giving Pat a smile and a bow as he passed +him, and receiving in return an affectionate look. The one evening a +week with the General had not served to diminish the boy's fondness for +him, but it had served to make Pat a greater favorite than ever with the +old soldier. + +"Mr. Farnham," said the General, after a few pleasant words had been +exchanged, "Mr. Wall offers thirty dollars a month for Pat. Do you wish +to keep him?" + +"I suppose I shall have to come up to Wall's offer if I do?" + +"Exactly," was the response with a smile. The General was delighted with +Pat's success, and he could not help showing it. + +"Pat is getting himself a reputation among your customers," he remarked +pleasantly. + +"Frankly, General," replied Mr. Farnham, "he's the best boy I ever had. +He shall have his thirty dollars." + +If the whistle was merry the night before, it was mad with joy on that +Wednesday evening. + +"Pat! Pat! what ails you?" cried his mother as the boy came bounding in +with a shout and a toss of his cap. "You'll be wakin' your brothers." + +"I'd like to wake 'em, mother," was the jubilant answer. "I've got news +that's worth wakin' 'em for." + +"And what is it?" was the eager question. + +"Well, mother, then it's this. I'm to have thirty dollars a month and to +stay at the dress counter." + +"Pat! Pat!" exclaimed the little woman, excited in her turn. "It's forty +years old I am, and sure and I know better than to be wakin' b'ys out of +their slape jist to be hearin' a bit of news. But I'm goin' to wake 'em. +They shall be knowin' this night what comes to a b'y that does his best +when he's got Gineral Brady to back him. And would Gineral Brady back +you if you didn't desarve it? That he wouldn't. I ain't heard nothin' of +his backin' up street loafers nor any sort of shiftless b'ys." + +The boys were wakened, and a difficult task it was. But when, at last, +they were all thoroughly roused and were made to understand that there +was no fire, nor any uproar in the streets, nor a train off the track, +they stared about them wonderingly. And when they had been told of Pat's +good fortune, "Is _that_ all?" asked jealous little Jim, and down +went his red head on the pillow, and shut went his eyes in a twinkling. +Barney and Tommie, who knew not the value of money, gazed solemnly at +their mother and Pat, and then into each other's eyes and composedly +laid themselves down to renewed slumber. And Larry howled till the +windows rattled, for Larry was a strong child for his years, and never +before had he been waked up in the night. But Andy sat up in bed and +clasped his brother's hand in both his while his face showed his +delight. + +And then something happened to Andy. His mother, disgusted at the +conduct of the little boys, put her arm around his neck and kissed him. + +"It's a jewel you are, Andy," she said, "with good understandin' in you. +You'll be wakin' up Pat in the noight some day." + +"Huh!" thought jealous little Jim, who was only feigning sleep. + +"Now, mother," said Pat when the tiny lamp stood once more on the +kitchen table, and the two sat beside the stove, "will you give up two +of your wash places?" + +"Not I, Pat dear. With six of us, not countin' you and not countin' +Moike, who cares for himsilf, we need all the money we can honestly +get." + +"Only one, then, mother; only one. My good luck is no comfort to me if I +can't think of your getting a day's rest every week out of it." + +The widow regarded him earnestly. She saw how her refusal would pain him +and she yielded. "Well, then," she said, "wan place, Pat dear, I'll give +up. And it'll be Wednesday, because 'twas on a Wednesday that your luck +come to you." + +Another month went by and the holiday trade was over. Nevertheless the +amount of custom at Mr. Farnham's did not diminish much. Ladies who went +out on looking tours, if they began at Farnham's ended there by +purchasing. If they stopped first at Wall's they went on to Farnham's +and bought there. Mr. Wall was not blind. And so, one day General Brady +walked into Mr. Farnham's store and back to his desk again. + +"Another rise?" asked the merchant laughingly. + +"Something of the sort," was the rejoinder. "Mr. Wall offers forty +dollars a month for Pat." + +"He doesn't take him though," was the significant answer. + +The General laughed. "I see you appreciate him," he said. + +"Well, to tell the truth, General, I know my right hand man when I see +him, and Pat O'Callaghan is his name. I only wish there were two of +him." + +The General's face grew thoughtful. "There may be," he said at length. +"His next brother, Mike, is at our house, and just as much of a born +trader as Pat. His ways, however, are a little different." + +Mr. Farnham put out his hand. "I take this hint as very kind of you, +General. When may I have him?" + +"Could you wait till next fall? He ought to finish this school year. +Next winter I could take charge of him one evening a week together with +Pat. The terms must be the same for him as they were for Pat when he +began--fifteen dollars a month and one evening each week out." + +"All right, General. I'll be frank with you---I'm glad to get him on +those terms. I begin to think that it's enough of a recommendation for a +boy to be an O'Callaghan." + +The General smiled as he left Mr. Farnham's desk, and on his way out of +the store, he stopped to speak to Pat. + +"What is your greatest ambition, my boy?" he asked. And he knew what +answer he would receive before Pat replied, "To have a store with +O'Callaghan Brothers over the door." + +Again the General smiled, and this time very kindly. "I'll tell you a +sort of a secret," he said, "that isn't so much of a secret that you +need to hesitate about speaking of it. Mike's coming to Mr. Farnham next +fall." + +Then the boy got hold of the man's hand. "General Brady," he began after +a moment of silence, "you know I can't thank you as I ought in words, +but----" and then he stopped. This boy who could fight to defend his +small brother, who could face contempt to ease his mother's burdens, who +could grub and dig and win a chance for his own promotion, was very near +to tears. + +He did not wish to shed those tears, and the General knew it. So with a +hearty "Good-by, Pat," the fine old soldier passed on. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +The shanty by the tracks had never seen such rejoicing as occurred +within its cheap walls that January evening. Pat had said nothing at +supper time of his wonderful news concerning Mike. He knew how anxious +his brother would be to tell it himself, and he had left the tale of his +own advancement to follow Mike's disclosure. For he felt sure that he +should find Mike upon his return from the store at nine o'clock, and +that he would spend the night at home, as he sometimes did. Many times +that day he glanced at the print and gingham counter and imagined Mike's +sturdy figure behind it. Pat's hands were long and slender, while Mike's +were of the sort known as "useful." "Before ever he comes in he shall +know how to measure and display goods, and how to make neat packages," +he thought. "I'll teach him myself odd times." + +And then followed visions of the increased comfort to come to the +shanty. He saw his mother, with never a wash place, staying at home +every day to guide and control the little boys. He saw Andy, quiet, +studious Andy, moving gently about in General Brady's house, and the +thought came to him that the General would probably like him better than +he did either Mike or himself, though Andy would never be much of a hand +at marketing. And then came the most daring thought of all--"Andy shall +go to college. Mike and I will help him to it." + +But never an opportunity of making a sale did Pat miss. With that last +decision to send Andy to college he had hung upon himself a new weight. +Not a weight that oppressed and bent him down, but a weight that caused +him to hold his head up and resolve, as never before, to do his best. + +"Andy's not strong," his busy brain, in the intervals of trade, ran on. +"But with Mike on one side of him and me on the other, he'll get to the +place where he can do his best. General Brady is helping Mike and me. +It's a pity if the two of us can't help Andy." + +It was hard to keep still at supper time, but Pat succeeded, only +allowing himself to bestow a look of particular affection on his +favorite brother. + +But his mother was not to be deceived. She followed him to the door and, +putting her head outside, said softly, "You may kape still if you want +to, Pat dear, but 'tis mysilf as knows you've somethin' on your moind." + +"Well, then, mother," prophesied Pat with a laughing backward glance, "I +think Mike will be over to spend the evening with you." And he was off. + +"And what does he mean by that?" wondered Mrs. O'Callaghan, looking +after him. "There's somethin' astir. I felt it by the look of him." + +She turned back and shut the door, and there was little Jim loitering as +if he hardly knew whether to wash the dishes or not. + +"'Tis the bank that's ahead of you, do you moind, Jim? Hurry up with +your dish pan. Pat was sayin' maybe Mike'll be home this evenin'." + +In response to this urging little Jim made a clatter with the dishes +that might be taken by some to represent an increase of speed, but his +mother was not of that number. + +"Come, Jim," she said, "less n'ise. If you was hustlin' them thin china +dishes of Mrs. Gineral Brady's loike that there'd be naught left of 'em +but pieces--and dirty pieces, too, for they'd all be broke before you'd +washed wan of 'em." + +"I ain't never goin' to wash any of Mrs. Gineral Brady's dishes," +remarked Jim calmly. + +"You're young yet, Jim, to be sayin' what you're goin' to do and what +not," was the severe response. "At your age your father would niver have +said he would or he would not about what was a long way ahead of him, +for your father was wise, and he knowed that ne'er a wan of us knows +what's comin' to us." + +[Illustration: "Little Jim made a clatter with the dishes."] + +But Jim's countenance expressed indifference. "Gineral Brady's got a +bank without washin' dishes for it," he observed. + +The widow stared. This was a little nearer to impertinence than anything +she had before encountered. + +"You moind the Gineral made gravy, do you?" she said at last. "And good +gravy, too?" + +Jim was obliged to own that he remembered it. "And that he done it with +an apron on to kape from gettin' burnt and spattered?" + +Jim nodded. + +"Him that ain't above makin' gravy, ain't above washin' dishes, +nayther," was the statement made in Mrs. O'Callaghan's most impressive +manner. "Show Gineral Brady a pile of dishes that it was his place to +wash, and he'd wash 'em, you may depind. 'Tis iver the biggest folks as +will do little things loike that when they has to, and do 'em good, too. +What's got into you, Jim?" + +"You think Pat and Mike and Andy's better than me," burst out the +jealous little fellow. + +"I think," said his mother, "that Pat and Moike and Andy _does_ +better than you, for they takes what's set for 'em and does it as good +as they can. But you're all Tim's b'ys, so you are." + +"If I done like Pat and Mike and Andy," asked Jim hesitatingly, "would +you think I was just as good?" + +"Sure and I would, Jim," said his mother earnestly. "Will you try?" + +"I will." + +And then steps crunched on the snowy path that led to the shanty door, +and Mike came in. There was that in his face that told his mother +without a word that he brought good news. + +"Moike! Moike! 'Tis the shanty's the luckiest place in town, for there's +naught but good news comes to it, do you see? What have you got to +tell?" + +"I've got to tell," cried Mike in ringing tones, "that next fall I'm to +go to Mr. Farnham's store at fifteen dollars a month. Pat shan't do all +for you, mother. I'll do some myself." + +For a moment the widow was dazed. Then she said, "I don't know what I +was lookin' for, but it wasn't anything so good as this. 'Twas Gineral +Brady got you the place, was it?" + +"It was, mother." + +"I knowed it. He's the man to be loike." She looked around upon her +sons, and then she said, "I want all my b'ys to remimber that it's +honorable empl'yment to do anything in the world for Gineral Brady and +Mrs. Gineral Brady, too. The toime may come when you can do some big +thing for 'em, but the toime's roight here when you can sweep and cook +and wash dishes for 'em, and make 'em aisy and comfortable, and so +lingthen out their days. Moike goin' to the store gives Andy a chance to +show that the O'Callaghans knows how to be grateful. And, Moike, you'll +be takin' home another goose for 'em when you go. A goose ain't much, +but it shows what I'd do if I had the chance. And that's all that makes +a prisint seem good anyway--jist to know that the giver's heart is warm +toward you." + +She paused and then went on, "Well, well, and that's what Pat was kapin' +still about at supper toime. I could see that he knowed somethin' that +he wouldn't tell. He'd be givin' you the chance to bring your own good +news, Moike, do you see? Pat's the b'y to give other folks the chances +as is their due. There's them that fond of gabblin' and makin' a stir +that they'd have told it thimsilves, but sure O'Callaghan ain't their +name." + +At this every face grew bright, for even Barney and Tommie saw that no +undue praise of Pat was meant, but that, as O'Callaghans, they were all +held incapable of telling other people's stories, and they lifted their +heads up. All but Larry who, with sleepily drooping crown, was that +moment taken up and prepared for bed. + +"And now, Moike," said Mrs. O'Callaghan when Larry had been disposed of, +"'tis fitting you should sit to-night in the father's chair. Sit you +down in it." + +"Not I, mother," responded the gallant Mike. "Sit you in it, and 'twill +be all the same as if I sat there myself." + +"Well, well, Moike," said the widow with a pleased smile. "Have it your +own way. Kape on tryin' to spoil your mother with kindness. 'Tis +somethin' you larned from your father, and I'll not be denyin' it makes +my heart loight." + +And then the talk went on to Andy's promotion to General Brady's +kitchen. + +"Andy and me won't be a team then," put in little Jim. "I'll run things +myself. I guess I can cook." + +"Well said, Jim!" cried his mother. "To be sure you can cook--when +you've larned how. There's them that takes to cookin' by nature, I've +heard, but I've niver seen any of 'em. There's rules to iverything, and +iverybody must larn 'em. For 'tis the rule that opens the stingy hand, +and shuts a bit the ginerous wan, and so kapes all straight." + +But little Jim turned a deaf ear to his mother's wisdom. He was thinking +what wonderful dishes he would concoct, and how often they would have +pudding. Pudding was Jim's favorite food, and something seldom seen on +the widow's table. Little Jim resolved to change the bill of fare, and +to go without pudding only when he must. He could not hope to put his +plans into operation for many months to come, however; so, with a sigh, +he opened his eyes and ears again to what was passing around him, and +was just in time to see Barney and Tommie marching to bed an hour later +than usual. They had been permitted to sit up till half-past eight in +honor of Mike's good fortune. Had their mother known all, they might +have stayed in the kitchen engaged in the difficult task of keeping +their eyes open at least an hour longer. But they were fast enough +asleep in their bed when Pat came gaily in. + +"Ah, Pat, my b'y, you kept still at supper toime famous, so you did, but +the news is out," began Mrs. O'Callaghan. "It's Moike that's in luck, +and sure he desarves it." + +"That he does, mother," agreed Pat heartily. "But will you say the same +for me if I tell you something?" + +The widow regarded him anxiously. There could not be bad news! "Out with +it quick, Pat!" she cried. + +"Well, then, mother," said Pat with mock resignation in his tone and a +sparkle of fun in his eye, "I'm to have forty dollars a month." + +"Forty dollars!" repeated the mother. "Forty dollars! That's the +Gineral's doin's again. B'ys, I'd be proud to see any wan of you crawl +on your knees to sarve the Gineral. Look at all he's done for us, and us +doin' nothin' to desarve it, only doin' our best." + +And there were tears in the widow's eyes. + +"But, mother," resumed Pat, "'tis yourself has the bad luck." + +"And what do you mean, Pat?" + +"You've lost another wash place to-night." + +Mrs. O'Callaghan smiled. "Are you sure of it?" she asked. + +"I am," was the determined answer. + +"Have it your own way. You and Moike are headstrong b'ys, so you are. If +you kape on I'll have nothin' to do but to sit with my hands folded. And +that's what your father was always plazed to see me do." + +The two brothers exchanged glances of satisfaction, while Andy looked +wistfully on and little Jim frowned jealously. + +"Now, mother," said Pat, "I've the thought for you. It came to me to-day +in the store. 'Tis the best thought ever I had. Andy's going to +college." + +The delicate boy started. How had Pat divined the wish of his heart? + +"'Tis Andy that will make us all proud, if only he can go to college," +concluded this unselfish oldest brother. + +The widow glanced at the lit-up countenance and eager eyes of her third +son, and, loth to rouse hopes that might later have to be dashed down, +observed, "Thim colleges are ixpinsive, I belave." + +Andy's face clouded with anxiety. There must be a chance for him, or Pat +would not have spoken with so much certainty. + +"They may be," replied Pat, "but Andy will have Mike on one side of him +and me on the other, and we'll make it all right." + +"That we will," cried Mike enthusiastically. "By the time he needs to go +I'll be making forty dollars a month myself, and little Jim will be +earning for himself." + +Sturdy Mike as he spoke cast an encouraging look on his favorite +brother, who laid by his frown and put on at once an air of importance. + +"I'm goin' to be a foightin' man loike the Gineral," he announced +pompously. + +"Well, well," cried the widow. "I'm gettin' old fast. You'll all be +growed up in a few minutes." + +And then they all laughed. + +But presently the mother said, "Thank God for brothers as is brothers. +Andy is goin' to college sure." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Summer time came again. The stove went out into the airy kitchen, and a +larger flock of geese squawked in the weeds and ditches. Again Andy and +Jim drove the cows, Andy of a morning with a dreamy stroll, and Jim of +an evening with a strut that was intended for a military gait. Who had +told little Jim of West Point, the family did not know. But he had been +told by somebody. + +And his cows were to him as a battalion to be commanded. The General +used to watch him from his front veranda with a smile. Somewhere Jim had +picked up the military salute, and he never failed to honor the General +with it as he strutted past with his cows. And always the old soldier +responded with an amused look in his eyes which Jim was too far away to +see, even if he had not been preoccupied with his own visions. Jim was +past ten now, and not much of a favorite with other boys. But he was a +prime favorite with himself. + +"West P'int," mused Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Let him go there if he can. +'Twill be better than gettin' to be an agitator." + +The widow continued her musings and finally she asked, "Where is West +P'int, Jim?" + +"It's where they make foightin' men out of boys." + +"Is it far from here?" + +"I don't know. I can get there anyway." His mother looked at him and she +saw pugnacity written all over him. His close-cropped red hair, which +was of a beautiful shade and very thick, stood straight on end all over +his head. His very nature seemed belligerent. + +"The trouble with you, Jim," she said, "is that you'd iver go foightin' +in toimes of peace. Foight when foightin's to be done, and the rest of +the toime look plissant loike the Gineral." + +"I ain't foightin' in times of peace any more," responded little Jim +confidentially. "I ain't licked a boy for three weeks. Mebbe I won't +lick any one all summer." + +His mother sighed. "I should hope you wouldn't, Jim," she said. "'Tisn't +gintlemanly to be lickin' any wan with your fist." + +"And what would I be lickin' 'em with?" inquired Jim wonderingly. + +"You're not to be lickin' 'em at all. Hear to me now, Jim, and don't be +the only wan of your father's b'ys I'll have to punish. Wait till you +get to your West P'int, and larn when and where to foight. Will you, +Jim?" + +Little Jim reflected. The request seemed a reasonable one, and so "I +will," said he. + +Evening after evening he drove the cows and gave his commands at the +corners of the streets. And the cows plodded on, swinging their tails to +brush the flies away from their sides, stopping here and there where a +mouthful of grass might be picked up, stirring the dust in dry weather +with their dragging feet, and sinking hoof-deep in the mud when there +had been rain. But always little Jim was the commander--even when the +rain soaked him and ran in rills from his hat brim. + +On rainy mornings Andy, wearing rubber boots and a rubber coat and +carrying an umbrella, picked his way along, following his obedient +charges to the pasture gate. But little Jim liked to have bare legs and +feet and to feel the soft mud between his toes, and the knowledge that +he was getting wetter and wetter was most satisfactory to him. At home +there was always a clean shirt and a pair of cottonade pantaloons +waiting for him, and nothing but a "Well, Jim!" by way of reproof. + +"File right!" little Jim would cry, or "File left!" as the case might +be. And when the street corner was turned, "Forward!" + +All this circumstance and show had its effect on the two small Morton +boys and at last, on a pleasant June evening, they began to mock him. + +Jim stood it silently for a quarter of a second, while his face grew +red. Then he burst out, "I'd lick both of you, if I was sure this was a +where or when to foight!" + +His persecutors received this information with delight, and repeated it +afterward to their older brother with many chuckles. + +"Lucky for you!" was his answer. "He can whip any boy in town of your +size." Whereat the little fellows grew sober, and recognized the fact +that some scruple of Jim's not understood by them had probably saved +them unpleasant consequences of their mockery. + +Jim's ambition, in due time, came to the ears of General Brady, and very +soon thereafter the old soldier, who had now taken the whole O'Callaghan +family under his charge, contrived to meet the boy. + +"Jim," said he, "I hear you're quite set on West Point. I also hear that +you did not stand well in your classes last year. I advise you to study +hard hereafter." + +Jim touched his hat in military style. "What's larnin' your lessons got +to do with bein' a foightin' man, sir?" he asked respectfully. + +"A great deal, my boy. If you ever get to West Point you will have to +study here, and you will have to go to school there besides." + +Jim sighed. "You can't get to be nothin' you want to be without doin' a +lot you don't want to do," he said despondently. "I was goin' to have a +bank loike you, sir, but my mother said the first steps to it was +dustin' and dishwashin', so I give up the notion." + +The General laughed and little Jim went his way, but he remembered the +General's words. As the summer waned and the time for school approached +the cows heard no more "File right! File left! Forward!" Little Jim had +no love for study and he drove with a "Hi, there! Get along with you!" +But it was all one to the cows. And so his dreams of West Point faded. +He began to study the cook book, for now Andy was to go to General +Brady's, and on two days of the week he was to make the family happy +with his puddings. Mrs. O'Callaghan, having but two days out now, had +decided to do the cooking herself on those days when she was at home. + +But never a word said little Jim to his mother on the subject of +puddings. "I can read just how to make 'em. I'll not be botherin' her," +he thought. "Pat and Mike is always wantin' her to take it aisy. She can +take it aisy about the puddin', so she can." + +The week before school began his mother had given him some instructions +of a general character on cooking and sweeping and bed-making. "I'm home +so much, Jim," she told him, "that I'll let you off with makin' the bed +where you're to slape with Mike. That you must make so's to be larnin' +how." + +"Wan bed's not much," said little Jim airily. + +"See that you makes it good then," was the answer. + +"And don't you be burnin' the steak nor soggin' the potatoes," was her +parting charge when she went to her washing on Monday, the first day of +school. + +"Sure and I won't," was the confident response. "I know how to cook +steak and potatoes from watchin' Andy." + +That night after school little Jim stepped into Mr. Farnham's store. +"I'm needin' a few raisins for my cookin'," he said to Pat. + +Pat looked surprised, but handed him the money and little Jim strutted +out. + +"What did Jim want?" asked Mike when he had opportunity. + +"Raisins for his cooking." And both brothers grinned. + +"I'll just be doin' the hardest first," said little Jim as, having +reached home, he tossed off his hat, tied on his apron, and washed his +hands. "And what's that but the puddin'?" + +He slapped the pudding dish out on the table, opened his paper of +raisins, ate two or three just to be sure they were good, and then +hastily sought the cook book. It opened of itself at the pudding page, +which little Jim took to be a good omen. "Puddin's the thing," he said. + +"Now how much shall I make? Barney and Tommie is awful eaters when it +comes to somethin' good, and so is Larry. I'd ought to have enough." + +He read over the directions. + +"Seems to me this receipt sounds skimpin'," was his comment. "Somethin's +got to be done about it. Most loike it wasn't made for a big family, but +for a little wan loike General Brady's." + +He ate another raisin. + +"A little puddin's just nothin'," he said. "I'll just put in what the +receipt calls for, and as much more of everything as it seems to need." + +Busily he measured and stirred and tasted, and with every taste more +sugar was added, for little Jim liked sweets. At last it was ready for +the oven, even down to the raisins, which had been picked from their +stems and all unwashed and unstoned cast into the pudding basin. And +never before had that or any other pudding dish been so full. If Jim so +much as touched it, it slopped over. + +"And sure and that's because the puddin' dish is too little," he +remarked to himself. "They'll have to be gettin' me a bigger wan. And +how long will it take it to bake, I wonder? Till it's done, of course." + +He turned to the stove, which was now in the house again, and the fire +was out. + +"Huh!" exclaimed little Jim. "I'll soon be makin' a fire." + +He rushed for the kindling, picking out a swimming raisin as he ran. +"They'll see the difference between Andy's cookin' and mine, I'm +thinkin'. Dustin' and dishwashin'! Just as if I couldn't cook with the +best of them!" + +The sugar was sifted over the table, his egg-shells were on the floor, +and a path of flour led to the barrel when, three-quarters of an hour +later, the widow stepped in. But there was a roaring fire and the +pudding was baking. + +"Well, Jim," cried his mother, "'tis a big fire you've got, sure. But I +don't see no potatoes a-cookin'." + +Jim looked blank. He had forgotten the potatoes. He had been so busy +coaling up the fire. + +"Run and get 'em," directed his mother. "There's no toime for palin' +'em. We'll have to b'ile 'em with their jackets on." + +But there was no time even for that, for Pat and Mike came in to supper +and could not be kept waiting. + +Hastily the widow got the dishpan and washed off the sticky table, and +her face, as Jim could see, was very sober. Then, while Jim set the +table, Pat fried the steak and Mike brushed up the flour from the floor. + +And now a burnt smell was in the air. It was not the steak. It seemed to +seep out of the oven. + +"Open the oven door, Jim," commanded Mrs. O'Callaghan, after one +critical sniff. + +[Illustration: "Open the oven door, Jim."] + +The latest cook of the O'Callaghans obeyed, and out rolled a cloud of +smoke. The pudding had boiled over and flooded the oven bottom. Poor +Jim! + +"What's in the oven, Jim? Perhaps you'll be tellin' us," said his mother +gravely. + +"My puddin'," answered little Jim, very red in the face. + +At the word pudding the faces of Barney and Tommie and Larry, who had +come in very hungry, lit up. But at the smell they clouded again. A +pudding lost was worse than having no pudding to begin with. For to lose +what is within reach of his spoon is hard indeed for any boy to bear. + +"And what was it I told you to be cookin' for supper?" asked the widow +when they had all sat down to steak and bread and butter, leaving the +doors and windows wide open to let out the pudding smoke. + +But little Jim did not reply and his downcast look was in such contrast +to his erect hair, which no failure of puddings could down, that Pat and +Mike burst out laughing. The remembrance of the raisins little Jim had +so pompously asked for was upon them, too. And even Mrs. O'Callaghan +smiled. + +"Was it steak and potatoes I told you to be cookin'?" she persisted. + +Little Jim nodded miserably. + +"I'll not be hard on you, Jim," said his mother, "for I see you're +ashamed of yourself, and you ought to be, too. But I'll say this to you; +them that cooks puddin's when they're set to cook steak and potatoes is +loike to make a smoke in the world, and do themsilves small credit. +Let's have no more puddin's, Jim, till I give you the word." + +That was all there was of it. But Jim had lost his appetite for pudding, +and it was long before it returned to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +There were three to sit by the kitchen stove now and talk of an evening +from half-past nine till ten, and they were the widow and Pat and Mike. + +"It's Andy that makes me astonished quite," observed Mrs. O'Callaghan. +"Here it is the first of December and him three months at Gineral +Brady's and gettin' fat on it. He niver got fat to home, and that's what +bates me." + +"Well, mother, he's got a nice big room by himself to sleep in. The +Physiology's down on crowding, and five boys in one bedroom ain't good +for a nervous boy like Andy." + +"Nor it ain't good for the rest of you, nayther," responded Mrs. +O'Callaghan, with conviction. + +"What do you say, b'ys? Shall we ask the landlord to put us on another +room in the spring? He'll raise the rint on us if he does." + +The widow regarded her sons attentively, and they, feeling the proud +responsibility of being consulted by their mother, answered as she would +have them. + +"Then that's settled," said she. "The more room, the more rint. Any +landlord can see that--a lawyer, anyway. Do you think, b'ys, Andy'll be +a lawyer when he comes from college?" + +"Why, mother?" asked Pat. + +"'Cause I don't want him to be. He ain't got it in him to be comin' down +hard and sharp on folks, and so he won't be a good wan. He'll be at the +law loike little Jim at puddin's. You niver was to coort, was you, +b'ys?" + +Pat and Mike confessed that they had never been at court. + +"I knowed you hadn't. I jist asked you. Well, you see, b'ys, them +lawyers gets the witnesses up and asks 'em all sorts of impudent +questions, and jist as good as tells 'em they lies quite often. Andy +couldn't niver do the loikes of that. 'Tain't in him. Do you know, b'ys, +folks can't do what ain't in 'em, no matter if they do go to college. +Now little Jim's the wan for a lawyer. He'd be the wan to make a man +forget his own name, and all on account of impudent questions." + +Pat and Mike looked surprised. They were both fond of little Jim, Mike +particularly so. + +"I see you wonders at me, but little Jim's a-worryin' me. I don't know +what to be doin' with him. B'ys, would you belave it? I can't teach him +a thing. Burn the steak he will if I lave him with it, and Moike knows +the sort of a bed he makes. He's clane out of the notion of that West +P'int and bein' a foightin' man, and the teacher's down on him at the +school for niver larnin' his lessons. And the fear's with me night and +day that he'll get to be wan of them agitators yet." + +Pat and Mike looked at each other. Never before had their mother said a +word to them about any of their brothers. And while they looked at each +other the brave little woman kept her eyes fixed on the stove. + +"The first step to bein' an agitator," she resumed as if half to +herself, "is niver to be doin' what you're set to do good. Then, of +course, them you work for don't loike it, and small blame to 'em. And +the nixt thing is to get turned off and somebody as _will_ do it +good put in your place. And then the nixt step is to go around tellin' +iverybody you meets, whether you knows 'em or not, how you're down on +your luck. And how it's a bad world with no chance in it for poor folks, +when iverybody knows most of the rich folks begun poor, and if there's +no chance for poor folks, how comes them that's rich now to be rich when +they started poor? And then the nixt step is to make them that's content +out of humor, rilin' 'em up with wishin' for what they've got no +business with, seein' they hain't earned it. And that's all there is to +it, for sure when you've got that far you're wan of them agitators." + +The boys listened respectfully, and their mother went on: "Little Jim's +got started that way. He's that far along that he don't do nothin' good +he's set at only when it's a happen so. You can't depind on him. I've +got to head him off from bein' an agitator, for he's your father's b'y, +and I can't meet Tim in the nixt world if I let Jim get ahead of me. +B'ys, will you help me? I've always been thinkin' I couldn't have your +help; I must do it alone. But, b'ys, I can't do it alone." The little +woman's countenance was anxious as she gazed into the sober faces of Pat +and Mike. + +Nothing but boys themselves, though with the reliability of men, they +promised to help. + +"I knowed you would," said the widow gratefully. "And now good night to +you. It's gettin' late. But you've eased my moind wonderful. Just the +spakin' out has done me good. Maybe he'll come through all roight yet." + +The next morning Mrs. O'Callaghan rose with a face bright as ever, but +Pat and Mike were still sober. + +"Cheer up!" was her greeting as they came into the kitchen where she was +already bustling about the stove. "Cheer up, and stand ready till I give +you the word. I'm goin' to have wan more big try at Jim. You took such a +load off me with your listenin' to me and promisin' to help that it's +heartened me wonderful." + +The two elder sons smiled. To be permitted to hearten their mother was +to them a great privilege, and suddenly little Jim did not appear the +hopeless case he had seemed when they went to bed the night before. They +cheered up, and the three were pleasantly chatting when sleepy-eyed +little Jim came out of the bedroom. + +"Hurry, now, and get washed, and then set your table," said his mother +kindly. + +But little Jim was sulky. + +"I'm tired of gettin' up early mornin's just to be doin' girl's work," +he said. + +Mrs. O'Callaghan nodded significantly at Pat and Mike. "What was that +story, Moike, you was tellin' me about the smartest fellow in the +Gineral's mess, before he got to be a gineral, you know, bein' so handy +at all sorts of woman's work? Didn't you tell me the Gineral said there +couldn't no woman come up to him?" + +"I did, mother." + +"I call that pretty foine. Beatin' the women at their own work. There +was only wan man in the mess that could do it, you said?" + +"Yes, mother," smiled Mike. + +"I thought so. 'Tain't often you foind a rale handy man loike that. And +he was the best foighter they had, too?" + +"Yes, mother." + +"I thought I remimbered all about it. Jim, here, can foight, but do +woman's work he can't. That is, and do it good. He mostly gets the +tablecloth crooked. No, he's no hand at the girl's work." + +"I'll show you," thought little Jim. On a sudden the tablecloth was +straight, and everything began to take its proper place on the table. + +"Mother," ventured Pat, though he had not yet received the word, "the +table's set pretty good this morning." + +"So it is, Pat, so it is," responded the widow glancing it over. + +"Maybe Jim can do girl's work after all." + +"Maybe he can, Pat, but he'll have to prove it before he'll foind them +that'll belave it. That's the way in this world. 'Tis not enough to be +sayin' you can do this and that. You've got to prove it. And how will +you prove it? By doin' it, of course." + +Little Jim heard, though he did not seem to be listening, being intent +on making things uncomfortable for Barney and Tommie as far as he could +in a quiet way. + +It was a passion with little Jim to prove things--not by his mother's +method, but by his own. So far his disputes had been with boys of his +own size and larger, and if they doubted what he said he was in the +habit of proving his assertions with his fists. The result was that +other boys either dodged him or agreed with him with suspicious +readiness. His mother had given him a fair trial at the housework. He +would prove to her that it was not because he could not, but because he +would not, that he succeeded no better. He washed the dishes with care +and put them shining on their shelves, and, a little later, poked his +head out of the bedroom door into the kitchen. + +"Mother," he said, "you think I can't make a bed good, don't you?" + +The widow smiled. "I think you _don't_ make it good," was her +answer. + +Jim's face darkened with resolution. "She thinks I can't," he said to +himself. "I will, I guess." + +With vim he set to work, and the bed was made in a trice. Little Jim +stood off as far as he could and sharply eyed his work. "'Tain't done +good," he snapped. And he tore it to pieces again. It took longer to +make it the next time, for he was more careful, but still it didn't look +right. He tore the clothes off it again, this time with a sigh. "Beds is +awful," he said. "It's lots easier to lick a boy than to make a bed." +And then he went at it again. The third time it was a trifle more +presentable, and the school bell was ringing. + +"I've got to go, and I hain't proved it to her," he said. "But I'll work +till I do, see if I don't. And then when I have proved it to her I won't +make no more beds." + +Jim was no favorite at school, where he had fallen a whole room behind +the class he had started with. His teacher usually wore a long-suffering +air when she dealt with him. + +"She looks like she thought I didn't know nothin' and never would," he +said to himself that morning when he had taken his seat after a decided +failure of a recitation. "I'll show her." And he set to work. His mind +was all unused to study, and--that day he didn't show her. + +"Who'd 'a' thought it was so hard to prove things?" he said at night. +"There's another day a-comin', though." + +Now some people are thankful for showing. To little Jim, showing was +degrading. Suddenly his mother perceived this, and felt a relief she had +not known before. + +"Whativer else Jim's got or not got," she said, "he's got a backbone of +his own, so he has. Let him work things out for himsilf. Will I be +showin' him how to make a bed? I won't that. I've been praisin' him too +much, intoirely. I see it now. Praise kapes Pat and Moike and Andy doin' +their best to get more of it. But it makes little Jim aisy in his moind +and scornful loike, so his nose is in the air all the toime and nothin' +done. A very little praise will do Jim. And still less of +fault-findin'," she added. + +"B'ys," she announced that evening "Jim's took a turn. We'll stand off +and watch him a bit. If he'll do roight for his own makin', sure and +that'll be better than for us to be havin' a hand in it. Give him his +head and plinty of chances to prove things, and when he has proved 'em, +own up to it." + +The two brightened. "I couldn't believe little Jim was so bad, mother," +said Mike. + +"Bad, is it? Sure and he ain't bad yet. And now's the toime to kape him +from it. 'Tis little you can be doin' with a spoiled anything. Would you +belave it? He made his bed three toimes this mornin' and done his best +at it, and me a-seein' him through the crack of the door where it was +open a bit. But I can't say nothin' to him nor show him how, for +showin's not for the loike of him. And them that takes iverything hard +that way comes out sometimes at the top of the hape. Provin' things is a +lawyer's business. If Jim iver gets to be a lawyer, he'll be a good +wan." + +Mike, when he went to bed that night, looked down at the small red head +of the future lawyer, snuggled down into the pillow, with the bedclothes +close to his ears. "I'll not believe that Jim will ever come to harm," +he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +"There's another day comin'," little Jim had said when he lay down in +acknowledged defeat on the night that followed his first day of real +trying. The other day came, and after it another and another, and still +others till the first of March was at hand. In the three months, which +was the sum of those "other days," Jim had made good progress. For many +weeks he had been perfect in the art of bed-making, but instead of +giving up the practice of that accomplishment, as he had declared he +would do so soon as he could prove to his mother that he could make a +bed, he had become so cranky and particular that nobody else could make +a bed to suit him. And as for studying--he was three classes ahead of +where the first of December had found him. He could still whip any boy +rash enough to encounter him, but his days and even his evenings, in +great part, were given to preparing a triumph over his mates in his +lessons, and a surprise for his teacher. + +The widow used to lean back in her husband's chair of an evening and +watch him as he sat at the table, his elbows on the pine and his hands +clutching his short hair, while the tiny, unshaded lamp stared in his +face, and he dug away with a pertinacity that meant and insured success. + +"And what book is that you've got?" she would ask when he occasionally +lifted his eyes. He would tell her and, in a moment, be lost to all +surroundings. For little Jim was getting considerable enjoyment out of +his hard work. + +"Pat nor Moike niver studied loike that," thought Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Nor +did even Andy. Andy, he always jist loved his book and took his larnin' +in aisy loike. But look at that little Jim work!" As for little Jim, he +did not seem to observe that he was enjoying his mother's favorable +regard. + +"And what book is it you loike the best?" she asked one evening when Jim +was about to go to bed. + +"The history book," was the answer. + +"And why?" + +"'Cause there's always a lot about the big foightin' men in it." + +[Illustration: "'Look at that little Jim work!'"] + +"Ah!" said the widow. "Andy, he loiked the history book best, too. But I +didn't know before 'twas for the foightin'." + +"'Tain't," briefly replied little Jim. And seeing his mother's +questioning look he went on: "The history book's got a lot in it, too, +about the way the people lived, and the kings and queens, and them that +wrote poems and things. 'Tis for that Andy loikes the history book. +He'll be writin' himself one of these days, I'm thinkin'. His teacher +says he writes the best essays in the school already." + +And having thus artlessly betrayed Andy's ambition, little Jim went to +bed. + +"Ah!" thought the widow, getting out her darning, for only one could use +the lamp at a time, and if Jim was of a mind to study she was of no mind +to hinder him. "And is that what Andy'd be at? I wonder now if that's a +good business? I don't know none of them that has it, and I can't tell." +She drew one of Jim's stockings over her hand and eyed ruminatingly the +prodigious hole in the heel. "That b'y do be gettin' through his +stockin's wonderful," she said dismissing Andy from her thoughts. "Well, +if he niver does no worse than that I'll not be complainin', but sure +and he can make more darnin' than Pat and Moike and Andy put together." + +Why are the winds of March so high? This spring they blew a gale. As +they roared around corners and through tree tops and rushed down the +streets with fury they made pedestrians unsteady. But they did not +disturb little Jim, who buttoned up his coat tight, drew down his hat +and squared his shoulders as he went out to meet their buffets. There +was that in little Jim that rejoiced in such weather. + +One day those frantic winds reached down the big schoolhouse chimney and +drew up a spark of fire from the furnace in the basement. They lodged it +where it would do the most harm, and, in a short time, the janitor was +running with a white face to the principal's office. As quietly as +possible each teacher was called out into the hall and warned. And, in a +few moments more, the pupils in every room were standing in marching +order waiting for the word to file out. Something was wrong each room +knew from the face of its teacher. And then came the clang of the fire +bell, and the waiting ranks were terrified. + +Little Jim's teacher on the second floor was an extremely nervous young +woman. In a voice that trembled with fright and excitement she had +managed to give her orders. She had stationed most of the boys in a line +running north and south and farthest from the door. Nearest the door +were the girls and some of the smaller boys. And now they must wait for +the signal that should announce the turn of their room to march out. As +it happened, little Jim stood at the head of the line of boys, with the +girls not far from him. The fire bell was ringing and all the whistles +in the town screaming. Below them they could hear the little ones +hurried out; above them and on the stairs the third-floor pupils +marching; and then in little Jim's room there was panic. The girls +huddled closer together and began to cry. The boys behind little Jim +began to crowd and push. The nearest boy was against him when little Jim +half turned and threw him back to place by a vigorous jerk of his elbow. + +"Boys! Boys!" screamed the teacher. "Standstill!" + +But they did not heed. Again they struggled forward, while the teacher +covered her face with her hands in horror at the thought of what would +happen on the crowded stairways if her boys rushed out. + +And then little Jim turned his back on the door and the girls near him +and made ready his fists. "The first boy that comes I'll knock down!" he +cried. And the line shrank back. + +"We'll be burned! We'll be burned up!" shrieked a boy, one of the +farthest away. + +"You won't be burned nayther," called back little Jim. "But you'll wish +you was to-morrow if wan of you gets past me. Just you jump them desks +and get past me and I'll lick you till you'll wish you was burnt up!" + +Little Jim's aspect was so fierce, and the boys knew so well that he +would do just as he said, that not one moved from his place. One minute +little Jim held that line of boys. Then the door opened and out filed +the girls. When the last one had disappeared little Jim stepped aside. +"Go out now," he said with fine contempt, "you that are so afraid you'll +get burned yourselves that you'd tramp the girls down." + +The last to leave the room were the teacher and little Jim. Her grasp on +his arm trembled, but it did not let go, even when they had reached the +campus which was full of people. Every business man had locked his doors +and had run with his clerks to the fire. For this was no ordinary fire. +The children of the town were in danger. At a distance Jim could see Pat +with Larry in his arms and Barney and Tommie close beside him, and here +and there, moving anxiously through the crowd, he saw General Brady and +Mike and Andy. But the teacher's grasp on his arm did not relax. The +fire was under control now and no damage had been done that could not be +repaired. And the teacher was talking. And everybody near was listening, +and more were crowding around and straining their ears to hear. Those +nearest were passing the story on, a sentence at a time, after the +manner of interpreters, and suddenly there was a shout, "Three cheers +for little Jim O'Callaghan!" + +[Illustration "'Three cheers for little Jim O'Callaghan.'"] + +And then Mike came tearing up and gave him a hug and a pat on the back. +And up came Andy with a look in his eyes that made little Jim forgive +him on the spot for being first in that housework team in which he +himself had been placed second by his mother. And the General had him by +the hand with a "Well done, Jim!" At which Jim appeared a trifle +bewildered. His fighting propensities had been frowned on so long. + +At her wash place the widow had heard nothing, the wind having carried +all sounds of commotion the other way, and there were no children in the +family to come unexpectedly home bringing the news. It was when she +stepped into her own kitchen, earlier than usual, and found Barney and +Tommie there with Larry, who had accompanied them that day as visitor, +that she first heard of the fire. And the important thing to Barney and +Tommie was that their vacation had come sooner than they had hoped. +Later came Jim, stepping high from the General's praise. But his mother +thought nothing of that. Jim's ways were apt to be airy. + +But when Pat and Mike came to supper the story was told. The widow +listened with an expression of pride. And when the story and the supper +were finished she took little Jim by the hand and led him along the +tortuous path through the furniture to the family seat of honor. "Sit +there in the father's chair," she commanded. "I niver thought to be +puttin' wan of my b'ys there for foightin', but foightin's the thing +sometimes." + +This was on Tuesday. The next day the leading paper of the town came +out, and it contained a full account of little Jim's coolness and +bravery. + +"They'll be spoilin' little Jim, so they will," said the widow as she +read with glistening eyes. Then she rose to put the paper carefully away +among the few family treasures, and set about making little Jim a +wonderful pudding. If he were to be spoiled she might as well have a +hand in it. "Though maybe he won't be nayther," she said. "Him that had +that much sinse had ought to have enough to stand praisin'." + +That evening home came Andy to find his mother absorbed in the +fascinating occupation of hearing from little Jim's own lips what each +individual person had said to him during the day. + +"Well," little Jim was saying just as Andy came in, "I should think +they'd said 'most enough. I didn't do anything but keep them lubberly +boys from trampin' the girls down, and it was easy enough done, too." + +At which speech the widow perceived that, as yet, little Jim was not +particularly spoiled by all his praise. "'Twas the history book that +done it," thought the mother thankfully. "Sure and he knows he's done +foine, but he ain't been braggin' on himself much since he took to that, +I've noticed. There's books of all sorts, so there is, some for wan +thing and some for another, but it's the history book that cures the +consate." + +"We're very busy up at our house," observed Andy. And the widow could +scarcely bring herself to heed him. + +"Yes," went on Andy. "We've been baking cake to-day, and there's more to +do to-morrow. The General and Mrs. Brady are going to give little Jim a +party Friday evening. General Brady is wonderfully pleased with Jim." + +Then indeed he had his mother's attention. "A party, is it?" she said +with gratified pride. "'Tis the Gineral and Mrs. Brady that knows how to +take a body's full cup and jist run it over. I couldn't have wished +nothin' no better than that. And nobody couldn't nayther. I'll be up +to-morrow mysilf to help and the nixt day, too. Don't tell me there's +nothin' I can't be doin'. Jim can run things to home, can't you, Jim?" + +Little Jim thought he could. + +"I'll have Pat and Moike see to gettin' him a new suit to-morrow. It's +late to be gettin' him a new suit and him a-growin'; but if he can't +wear it nixt fall Barney can, and it's proud he'll be to do it, I'm +thinkin'. 'Tisn't often the nixt youngest b'y has a chance to wear a new +suit got for his brother because he done good and hadn't nothin' fit to +wear to a party, nayther. But Wennott's the town. A party for my Jim, +and at Gineral Brady's, too! Would anybody have belaved it when we come +with nothin' to the shanty? 'Tis the proudest thing that iver come to +us, but no pride could there be about it if little Jim hadn't desarved +it." + +The widow's heart was full. "Ivery b'y? as he has come along, has made +me proud," she went on. "First Pat and then Moike and then you, Andy, +with your book, and now little Jim with his foightin'. And that's what +beats me, that I should be proud of my b'y's foightin'. And I am that." + +Friday evening seemed a long way off to little Jim when he lay down on +his bed that night. He had never attended a party in his life. Andy had +spoken of cake, and, by private questioning, little Jim had discovered +that there would be ice cream. He tried to imagine what a party was +like, but having no knowledge to go on, he found the effort wearisome +and so dropped asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Little Jim had never been farther than General Brady's kitchen. It was a +kitchen of which he approved because it had no path in it. One might go +through it in a great hurry without coming to grief on some chair back, +or the footboard of the mother's bed, or the rocker of the father's +chair. Neither was one in danger of bringing up suddenly on the corner +of the table, or against the side of the stove. The younger O'Callaghans +were free from numerous bruises only because they knew their way and +proceeded with caution. There was no banging the door open suddenly at +the shanty, because there was always some article of furniture behind +the door to catch it and bang it back sharply into a boy's face. It was +upon these differences in the two kitchens that little Jim reflected +when, arrayed in the new suit, he slipped around the house and was +ushered in by Andy. + +"What's this!" cried the General, who had caught a glimpse of the +swiftly scudding little figure as it rounded the corner. "What's this!" +and he stood smiling at the door that opened from the back of the hall +into the kitchen. "The hero of the hour coming in by the back door. This +will never do, Jim. Come with me." + +Bravely little Jim went forward. He stepped into the hall close behind +the General, and suddenly glanced down. He could hardly believe his +ears. Was he growing deaf? There walked the General ahead of him, and +little Jim could not hear a footfall, neither could he hear his own +tread. + +But little Jim said nothing. They were now come to the hall tree, and +the General himself helped his guest off with his overcoat and hung it +beside his own. And as for little Jim, he could hang up his own cap when +his host showed him where. + +Then in through the parlor door they went and on through the folding +doors into the sitting-room where Mrs. Brady stood among her plants. She +had just cut two lovely roses from the same bush, and one she pinned on +her husband's coat and the other on little Jim's jacket. + +"Parties is queer," thought little Jim, "but they're nice." + +For Mrs. Brady, in her quiet way, was contriving to let the boy +understand that she thought exceedingly well of him. It began to grow +dusk, but it was not yet so dark that little Jim failed to see Pat and +Mike come in and run lightly up the stairs. And then there was a tramp +of feet outside, the doorbell rang, and as the electric light flooded +the house, Andy opened the front door and in trooped boys and girls. + +Little Jim was amazed. Not one came into the parlor, but Andy sent them +all upstairs. + +"Is them boys and girls the party?" he asked quickly of Mrs. Brady. + +"Yes, Jim," was the kind answer. "Your party." + +Little Jim reflected. "I'd best not be lickin' any of the boys then this +evenin'?" And he turned inquiring eyes on Mrs. Brady. + +Mrs. Brady smiled. "No, Jim," she replied. "You must try to please them +in every way that you can, and make them enjoy themselves." + +"Let 'em do just as they're a moind to, and not raise a fuss about it?" + +"Yes." + +Little Jim straightened himself. "I never seen no parties before," he +said, "but I guess I can run it." + +And then downstairs came the guests and into the parlor to shake hands +with General and Mrs. Brady and Jim. The gay company spread themselves +through the parlor and sitting-room. They chattered, they laughed, they +got up from their seats and sat down again, and all the time little Jim +had a keen eye upon them. He had never before seen little girls dressed +so, and he noticed that every boy had a flower on his jacket. + +And then little Jim bestirred himself. He was here, there, and +everywhere. Did a girl suggest a game, Jim so engineered that the whole +company were soon engaged in it, and he himself was the gayest player of +all. Not once did he suggest anything. But often he slipped up to Mrs. +Brady or the General and did what he had never done before in his +life--asked advice. + +"Am I runnin' it right?" he would whisper in Mrs. Brady's ear; and +murmur apologetically to the General, "I never seen no parties before." + +"And how do you like parties, Jim?" asked the General indulgently. + +"I think there's nothin' to equal 'em," was the fervent answer. And then +away went the young host. + +At half-past nine Andy appeared at the hall door. Jim saw him and his +heart sank. Was the party over? He feared so, since Mrs. Brady, followed +by the General, went out of the room. But in a moment the General came +back to the doorway. The guests seemed to understand, for a sudden hush +fell on the talkative tongues. The General saw Jim's uncertain +expression and beckoned to him. + +"We are going out to supper," he said. "Go ask Annie Jamieson to walk +out with you." + +Jim obeyed promptly. All at once he remembered the cake and ice cream. +His heart swelled with pride as he led the pretty little girl across the +hall and into the dining-room. And there were Pat and Mike and Andy +showing the guests to their places and prepared to wait upon them. And +if they beamed upon little Jim, he beamed back with interest. He was +supremely happy. How glad he was that Mike had taught him Mrs. Brady's +way of laying the table, and how to eat properly! He thought of his +mother and wished that she might see him. But she was at home caring for +Barney and Tommie and Larry. + +"Sure and I can't lave 'em by thimsilves in the evenin'. Something +moight happen to 'em," said this faithful mother. + +Such food Jim had not tasted before, but he ate sparingly. He was too +happy to eat, for little Jim, although extremely fond of pudding, was no +glutton. There he sat with his auburn hair on end, his blue eyes bright +and shining, smiles and grave looks chasing themselves over his face +till the General was prouder of him than ever. + +"I'm not sure but he's _the_ O'Callaghan," he told his wife, when +the children had gone back to the parlor for a final game before the +party should break up. "But it is that mother of his and his older +brothers who have brought him on." + +Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Pat and Mike and Andy washed the dishes and +put things to rights with three hearts full of pride in little Jim. + +"To think the mother was afraid he would turn out an agitator!" said +Pat. + +"This night settles that," responded Mike. "He's more likely to turn out +a society man. He'll be a credit to us all." + +At last the guests were gone. And then for the first time little Jim's +eyes examined with keen scrutiny the pretty rooms, while the General and +Mrs. Brady kept silence, content to observe him with affectionate +interest. Finally the boy came back from things to people, and he came +with a sigh. + +"Have you enjoyed yourself?" asked the General, smiling. + +"Yes, sir. I never had such a toime before in my loife. 'Tis parties as +are the thing." He paused and then asked, "How will I be goin' at it to +get me a house like this?" + +And then the General looked astonished. He had not yet fully measured +little Jim's ambition that stopped at nothing. Hitherto it had been that +pernicious ambition that desires, and at the same time, lazily refuses +to put forth the exertion necessary to attain, or it had been that other +scarcely less reprehensible ambition that exerts itself simply to +outshine others, and Mrs. O'Callaghan had had good cause to be anxious +about Jim. Tonight it was the right sort of ambition, backed by a +remarkably strong will and boundless energy. He looked up at the General +with confidence and waited to be told just how he could get such a house +for himself. + +The General gazed down into the clear, unashamed depths of little Jim's +blue eyes. The attitude of the O'Callaghan's toward him always touched +him. His money had nothing to do with it, nor had his superior social +position. It was he himself that the O'Callaghans respected, admired, +loved and venerated, and this without in the least abating their own +self-respect and independence. It was like being the head of a clan, the +General told himself, and he liked it. So now he answered with his hand +on little Jim's shoulder, "Work, my boy, and study, work and study." + +"And is that all?" questioned Jim disappointedly. "Sure and that's like +my mother tellin' me dustin' and dishwashin' was my two first steps." + +"Well, they were your first steps, Jim, because they were the duties +that lay nearest you. But it will take more than work and study, after +all." + +"I thought it would, sir. This is an awful nice house." + +"Would you like to walk upstairs and look about?" asked the General. + +"I would," was the eager answer. + +So the General and Mrs. Brady and Jim went up. + +"This is the sort of a room for my mother," declared little Jim, after +he had carefully examined the large guest chamber. "Pat and Mike got her +the summer kitchen, but I'll be gettin' her a whole house, so I will. +Sleepin' in the kitchen will do for them that likes it. And now what's +the rest of it besides work and study?" + +"Have you ever seen any poor boys smoke cigars, Jim?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And cigarettes?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And pipes?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And drink beer?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And whisky?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And chew tobacco?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Those are the boys who, when they are men, are going to be poor. Mark +that, Jim. They are going to be poor." + +"They won't have any house like this?" + +"Not unless somebody who has worked hard gives it to them, or unless +they cheat for it, Jim." + +"Huh!" said Jim. "I'm down on cheatin'. I'll lick any boy that cheats me +or tries to, and I don't want nobody to give me nothin'." And with that +little Jim cooled down to pursue his former train of thought. + +"And if I work and study and let them things alone I can have a house +like this some day?" + +"Yes, Jim, if some misfortune does not befall you, like a long sickness +in the family, or an accident to you." + +"I'm goin' to try for it," declared Jim with decision. "Them that would +rather have cigars and such than a nice house like this can have 'em, +and it's little sense they've got, too. I'll take the house." + +The General laughed. "You will take it, Jim, I don't doubt," he said. +"Come to me whenever you wish to ask any questions, and I will answer +them if I can." + +"I will, sir," replied little Jim. "And when you want me to I'll wash +your dishes. I said once I wouldn't, but now I will." + +"Thank you, Jim," responded the General. + +Peppery, headstrong little Jim went home that night walking very erect. +Pat and Mike were one on each side of him, but he hardly knew it, he was +so busy looking forward to the time when he should have a house like the +General's, when his mother would pin a flower on his coat, and he should +give parties, and as many of them as he chose. + +[Illustration: "Pat and Mike were one on each side of him."] + +And of all these plans his mother heard with wonder and astonishment. + +"Your party's made a man of you, Jim," said the widow at last. "I'd +niver have thought of a party doin' it, nayther, though I was wantin' it +done bad. Your father was the man as loiked noice things, and he'd have +got 'em, too, if sickness hadn't come to him." + +And now little Jim's reward had come. At last his mother had said he was +like his father. He was as good as Pat and Mike and Andy, and his heart +swelled. + +"But, Jim, dear, you'd be gettin' your house quicker if we was all to +help toward it." + +"And then 'twouldn't be mine," objected Jim. + +"No more it wouldn't," assented Mrs. O'Callaghan, "but 'twould be better +than livin' in the shanty years and years. You don't want to kape livin' +here till you have a foine house loike the Gineral's, do you, Jim?" + +"No," reluctantly answered the little fellow, glancing about him. + +"I knowed you didn't. For sure you're not the wan to let your ambition +run away with your sinse. A neat little house, now, with only two b'ys +to a bedroom and wan bedroom for me--what do you say to it, Jim?" + +Then and there it was settled, and that night each boy had a different +dream about the neat little house to be--Jim's, of course, being the +most extravagant. That week the first five dollars toward it was +deposited with the General. + +"And I'll be keepin' a sharp lookout on Barney and Tommie," was Jim's +unasked promise to his mother. "You've no idea what little chaps smoke +them cigarettes. I can fix it. I'll just be lettin' the boys know that +every wan of 'em that helps Barney and Tommie to wan of them things will +get a lickin' from me." + +"Is that the best way, do you think, Jim?" + +"Sure and I know it is. I've seen them big boys givin' 'em to the little +wans, particular to them as their folks don't want to use 'em. The +General's down on them things, and Barney and Tommie shan't have 'em." + +"Five dollars in the bank!" exclaimed the widow. She was surrounded by +her eldest four sons, for it was seven o'clock in the morning. "Two +years we've been in town, and them two years has put all four of you +where I'm proud of you. All four of you has sat in the father's chair +for good deeds done. What I'm thinkin' is, will Barney and Tommie and +Larry sit there, too, when their turn comes?" + +"They will that!" declared Jim with authority. + +"Of course they will, mother," encouraged Pat. + +"They are father's boys, too," said Andy. + +"And _your_ boys, mother. Where else would your boys sit?" asked +Mike. + +And then the widow smiled. "I belave you'll ivery wan of you come to +good," she said. "There's small bad ahead of b'ys that has a bit of +heartsome blarney for their mother, and love in their eyes to back their +words. Some has farms and money. But if any one would be tellin' of my +riches, sure all they've got to say is, 'The Widow O'Callaghan's b'ys.'" + +THE END. + + + + + + +_Good Reasons for the Popularity of_ + +THE + +Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + +It has succeeded by its own sterling merit and without the assistance of +exaggerated advertising, and a popularity of this kind is always +permanent. The charm of the book lies in the human interest of the +sympathetically told story; its value in the excellent lessons that are +suggested to the youthful mind in the most unobtrusive manner. Nothing +is so distasteful to a healthy youngster as an overdose of obvious moral +suasion in his fiction. + +EXPERT TESTIMONY + +_Principal Ferris, of the Ferris Institute, Michigan, expresses +somewhat the same idea in a letter to the publishers_: "I bought the +book and read it myself, then read it to my ten-year-old boy. He was +captivated. I then tried it on my school of 600 students--relatively +mature people. They were delighted. 'Widow O'Callaghan's Boys' is an +exceptional book. It is entirely free from the weaknesses of the +ordinary Sunday school book. The methods used by the Widow O'Callaghan +in training her boys are good methods for training boys in the school +room. The truth of the matter is the book contains first-class pedagogy. +There are comparatively few first-class juvenile books. 'Widow +O'Callaghan's Boys' is a jewel. It is worthy of being classed as +first-class literature." + +A.C. McCLURG & CO. PUBLISHERS + +_Newspaper Opinions of_ + + +The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + +"It is a story of sturdy, level-headed effort to meet the world on its +own rather severe terms, and to win from it success and progress. No +strokes of miraculous good luck befall these young heroes of peace; but +they deserve what they gain, and the story is told so simply, and yet +with so much originality, that it is quite as interesting reading as are +the tales where success is won by more sensational methods. The good +sense, courage, and tact of the widow herself ought to afford +inspiration to many mothers apparently more fortunately situated. It is +a book to be heartily commended."--_Christian Register_. + +"They are but simple adventures in 'The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys,' but +they are pleasant to read of. The seven boys, whom the widow trains to +be good and useful men, are as plucky as she; and they have a good bit +of Irish loyalty as well as of the Irish brogue."--_The Dial_. + +"The brave little Irishwoman's management and encouragement of them, +amid poverty and trouble, the characters of the boys themselves, their +cheerfulness, courage, and patience, and the firm grip which they take +upon the lowest rounds of the ladder of success, are told simply and +delightfully."--_Buffalo Express_. + +"The smile of pleasure at the happy ending is one that will be accompanied +by a dimness of vision in the eyes of many readers."--_Philadelphia Press_. + + +_Newspaper Opinions of_ + +The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + +"There is many a quaint bit of humor, many a strong, sound lesson in +manliness and womanliness which must appeal to us in the telling. The +story was probably written for children, but it will interest older +people as well."--_The Living Church_. + +"The Widow O'Callaghan is the greatest philosopher since Epictetus, and +as bright and glowing as a well-cut gem."--_Topeka Capital_. + +"The refreshing thing about the book is that its dialect approximates to +the real brogue, and is not disfigured by the affected misspelling of +English words which are pronounced almost as correctly by the Irish as +by one to the tongue born."--_Detroit Journal_. + +"This is a story that will be enjoyed by readers of every age. It is +capitally written, and deals with the struggles of a brave little Irish +widow, left in poverty with seven boys, ranging in age from three to +fifteen years."--_Book News_. + +"It is one of the best books for young people which we ever have seen. +It describes the mother love, the shrewd sense, and the plucky +perseverance of an Irish widow with seven young children."--_The +Congregationalist_. + + + +_Another Use for_ + + The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + + The following news item from the Chicago Tribune of Nov. 7 describes + a unique testimonial to the practical usefulness of a good book. "The + Widow O'Callaghan's Boys," the story referred to, is now in its eighth + edition, and seems to increase in popularity constantly: + + "Barney Ryan, 12 years old and wearing a sweater twice his size, + yesterday was sentenced by Judge Tuthill to read to his mother each + night from a book designated by the court. The boy had been arrested for + smashing a store window and stealing merchandise to the value of $200. + + "'I'll let you go, Barney,' said Judge Tuthill, 'if your mother will + buy a copy of "Mrs. O'Callaghan's Boys" and agree to make you read to + her each night from it.' + + "Mrs. Ryan, who lives at 139 Gault court, agreed to the stipulation." + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys, by Gulielma Zollinger + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIDOW O'CALLAGHAN'S BOYS *** + +***** This file should be named 9329.txt or 9329.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/3/2/9329/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, David Garcia, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +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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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + +Author: Gulielma Zollinger + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9329] +[This file was first posted on September 23, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE WIDOW O'CALLAGHAN'S BOYS *** + + + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, David Garcia, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + +The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + +BY GULIELMA ZOLLINGER + +(1904, 10th edition) + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "CAN'T I DIPIND ON YE B'YS?"] + + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + Can't I depind on ye, b'ys? + + It's your father's ways you have + + For every one carried something + + "Cheer up, Andy!" he said + + Mrs. Brady looked at the tall, slender boy + + Pat donned his apron + + "I've good news for you, Fannie," said the General + + The General makes the gravy + + Pat doing the marketing + + Pat and Mike building the kitchen + + Up on the roof sat Mike with his knife + + Barney and Tommie a-takin' care of the geese + + The merchant turned to the girl clerk + + Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished + + Little Jim became downright sulky + + In they came at that moment + + Jim made a clatter with the dishes + + Open the oven door, Jim + + Look at that Jim work + + Three cheers for Jim O'Callaghan + + Pat and Mike were one on each side of him + + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +When Mr. O'Callaghan died, after a long, severe, and expensive sickness, +he left to his widow a state of unlimited poverty and seven boys. + +"Sure, an' sivin's the parfect number," she said through her tears as +she looked round on her flock; "and Tim was the bist man as iver lived, +may the saints presarve him an' rist him from his dreadful pains!" + +Thus did she loyally ignore the poverty. It was the last of February. +Soon they must leave the tiny house of three rooms and the farm, for +another renter stood ready to take possession. There would be nothing to +take with them but their clothing and their scant household furniture, +for the farm rent and the sickness had swallowed up the crop, the +farming implements, and all the stock. + +Pat, who was fifteen and the oldest, looked gloomily out at one of the +kitchen windows, and Mike, the next brother, a boy of thirteen, looked +as gloomily as he could out of the other. Mike always followed Pat's +lead. + +When eleven-year-old Andy was a baby Pat had taken him for a pet. +Accordingly, when, two years later, Jim was born, Mike took him in +charge. To-day Pat's arm was thrown protectingly over Andy's shoulders, +while Jim stood in the embrace of Mike's arm at the other window. Barney +and Tommie, aged seven and five respectively, whispered together in a +corner, and three-year-old Larry sat on the floor at his mother's feet +looking wonderingly up into her face. + +Five days the father had slept in his grave, and still there was the +same solemn hush of sorrow in the house that fell upon it when he died. + +"And what do you intend to do?" sympathetically asked Mrs. Smith, a +well-to-do farmer's wife and a neighbor. + +The widow straightened her trim little figure, wiped her eyes, and +replied in a firm voice: "It's goin' to town I am, where there's work to +be got, as well as good schoolin' for the b'ys." + +"But don't you think that seven boys are almost more than one little +woman can support? Hadn't you better put some of them out--for a +time?"--the kind neighbor was quick to add, as she saw the gathering +frown on the widow's face. + +"Sure," she replied, 'twas the Lord give me the b'ys, an' 'twas the Lord +took away their blissid father. Do ye think He'd 'a' done ayther wan or +the other if He hadn't thought I could care for 'em all? An' I will, +too. It may be we'll be hungry--yis, an' cold, too--wanst in a while. +But it won't be for long." + +"But town is a bad place for boys, I'm told," urged the neighbor. + +"Not for mine," answered the widow quietly. "They're their father's +b'ys, an' I can depind on 'em. They moind me loightest word. Come here, +Pat, an' Moike, an' Andy, an' Jim, an' Barney, an' Tommie!" + +Obediently the six drew near. She raised Larry to her lap, and looked up +touchingly into their faces. "Can't I depind on ye, b'ys?" + +"Yes, mother, course you can," answered Pat for them all. + +A moment the widow paused to steady her voice, and then resumed, "It's +all settled. A-Saturday I goes to town to get a place. A-Monday we +moves." + +The neighbor saw that it was indeed settled, and, like a discreet woman, +did not push her counsel further, but presently took her leave, hoping +that the future might be brighter than it promised for Mrs. O'Callaghan +and her boys. + + * * * * * + +"Aise 'em up an' down the hills, Pat, the dear bastes that your father +loved!" + +Mrs. O'Callaghan and Pat were driving to Wennott behind the team that +was theirs no longer, and it was Saturday. No need to speak to Pat. The +whip rested in the socket, and he wished, for his part, that the horses +would crawl. He knew how poor they were, and he did not want to go to +town. But mother said town, and town it must be. + +Down across the railroad track, a little northeast of the depot, was a +triangular bit of ground containing about as much as two lots, and on it +had been erected a poor little shanty of two rooms. The widow knew of +this place, and she meant to try to secure it. + +"'Twill jist do for the loikes of us, Pat, for it's a low rint we're +after, an' a place quiet loike an' free from obsarvers. If it's poor ye +are, well an' good, but, says I, 'There's no use of makin' a show of +it.' For it's not a pretty show that poverty makes, so it ain't, an', +says I, 'A pretty show or none.' I see you're of my moind," she +continued with a shrewd glance at him, "an' it heartens me whin ye agree +with me, for your father's gone, an' him and me used to agree +wonderful." + +Pat's lips twitched. He had been very fond of his father. And all at +once it seemed to him that town and the shanty were the two most +desirable things in their future. + +"But, cheer up, Pat! 'Twas your father as was a loively man, d'ye moind? +Yon's the town. It's hopin' I am that our business'll soon be done." + +Pat's face brightened a little, for he found the entry into even so +small a town as Wennott a diversion. To-day he looked about him with new +interest, for here were streets and stores that were to become familiar +to him. They entered the town from the south and drove directly to its +center, where stood the courthouse in a small square surrounded by an +iron hitching-rack. Stores faced it on every side, and above the stores +were the lawyers' offices. Which one belonged to the man who had charge +of the place the widow wished to rent, she wondered, and Pat wondered, +as she stood by, while he tied the horses. + +[Illustration: "It's your father's ways you have."] + +Above the stores, too, were doctors' offices, and dentists' offices, +dress-making-shops, and suites of rooms where young couples and, in some +instances, small families lived. + +"We'll jist be inquirin', Pat. 'Tis the only way. But what to ask for, I +don't know. Shall I be sayin' the bit of a place beyant the tracks?" + +"Yes, mother. That's what you want, ain't it?" + +"Sure it is, an' nothin' else, nayther. It's your father's ways you +have, Pat. 'Twas himsilf as wint iver straight after what he wanted." + +Pat's eyes beamed and he held himself more proudly. What higher praise +could there be for him than to be thought like his father? + +It chanced that the first lawyer they asked was the right one. + +"Luck's for us," whispered the little widow. "Though maybe 'twouldn't +have been against us, nayther, if we'd had to hunt a bit." + +And then all three set out to look at the poor little property. + +"Sure, an' it suits me purpose intoirely," declared Mrs. O'Callaghan +when the bargain had been concluded. "An' it's home we'll be goin' at +wanst. We've naught to be buyin' the day, seein' we're movin' in on +Monday." + +Pat made no answer. + +"Did you see thim geese a-squawkin' down by the tracks?" asked Mrs. +O'Callaghan, as she and her son settled themselves on the high spring +seat of the farm wagon. + +Pat nodded. + +"There's an idea," said his mother. "There's more than wan in the world +as can raise geese. An' geese is nice atin', too. I didn't see no +runnin' water near, but there's a plinty of ditches and low places where +there'll be water a-standin' a good bit of the toime. An' thim that +can't git runnin' water must take standin'. Yis, Pat, be they geese or +min, in this world they must take what they can git an' fat up on it as +much as they can, too." + +The thin little woman--thin from overwork and anxiety and grief--spoke +thus to her tall son, who, from rapid growing, was thin, too, and she +spoke with a soberness that told how she was trying to strengthen her +own courage to meet the days before her. Absorbed in themselves, mother +and son paid no heed to their surroundings, the horses fell into their +accustomed brisk trot, and they were soon out on the narrow road that +lay between the fields. + +"Now, Pat, me b'y," said Mrs. O'Callaghan, rousing herself, "you're the +oldest an' I'll tell you my plans. I'm a-goin' to git washin' to do." + +The boy looked at his mother in astonishment. + +"I know I'm little," she nodded back at him, "but it's the grit in me +that makes me strong. I can do it. For Tim's b'ys an' mine I can do it. +Four days in the week I'll wash for other people, Friday I'll wash for +my own, Saturday I'll mind for 'em, an' Sunday I'll rist." + +A few moments there was silence. The +widow seemed to have no more to say. + +"An' what am I to do?" finally burst out Pat. "An' what's Mike to do? +Sure we can help some way." + +"That you can, Pat. I was comin' to that. Did you notice the biggest +room in the little house we rinted the day?" + +Pat nodded. + +"I thought you did. You're an obsarvin' b'y, Pat, jist loike your +father. Well, I belave that room will jist about hold three beds an' +lave a nate little path betwane ivery two of 'em. It's my notion we can +be nate an' clane if we are poor, an' it'll be your part to make ivery +wan of thim beds ivery day an' kape the floor clane. Larry an' mesilf, +we'll slape in the kitchen, an' it's hopin' I am you'll kape that +shoinin', too. An' then there's the coal to be got in an' the ashes to +be took out. It does seem that iverything you bring in is the cause of +somethin' to be took out, but it can't be helped, so it can't, so 'Out +with it,' says I. An' there's the dishes to be washed an'--I hate to ask +you, Pat, but do you think you could larn cookin' a bit?" + +She looked at him anxiously. The boy met her look bravely. + +"If you can work to earn it, 'tis meself as can cook it, I guess," he +said. + +"Jist loike your father, you are, Pat. He wasn't niver afraid of tryin' +nothin', an' siven b'ys takes cookin'. An' to hear you say you'll do it, +whin I've larnt you, of course, aises me moind wonderful. There's some +as wouldn't do it, Pat. I'm jist tellin' you this to let you know you're +better than most." And she smiled upon him lovingly. + +"If the most of 'em's that mean that they wouldn't do what they could +an' their mother a--washin', 'tis well I'm better than them, anyway," +returned Pat. + +"Ah, but Pat, they'd think it benathe 'em. 'Tis some grand thing they'd +be doin' that couldn't be done at all. That's the way with some, Pat. +It's grand or nothin', an' sure an' it's ginerally nothin', I've +noticed." + +A mile they went in silence. And then Mrs. O'Callaghan said: "As for the +rist, you'll all go to school but Larry, an' him I'll take with me when +I go a--washin'. I know I can foind thim in the town that'll help a poor +widow that much, an' that's all the help I want, too. Bad luck to +beggars. I'm none of 'em." + +Pat did not respond except by a kindly glance to show that he heard, and +his mother said no more till they drove in at the farm gate. + +"An' it's quite the man Pat is," she cried cheerily to the six who came +out to meet them. "You'll do well, all of you, to pattern by Pat. An' +it's movin' we'll be on Monday, jist as I told you. It's but a small +place we've got, as Pat will tell you there. Close to the north side of +the town it is, down by the railroad tracks, where you can see all the +trains pass by day an' hear 'em by night; an' there's freight cars +standin' about at all toimes that you can look at, an' they've got iron +ladders on the inds of 'em, but you must niver be goin' a-climbin' on +top of thim cars." + +At this announcement Andy and Jim looked interested, and the eyes of +Barney and Tommie fairly shone with excitement. The widow had +accomplished her object. Her boys were favorably inclined toward the new +home, and she slipped into her bedroom to shed in secret the tears she +could no longer restrain. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Sunday dawned cold and blustering--a sullen day that seemed hardly to +know which way was best to make itself disagreeable, and so tried them +all. The stock had been removed. There was no work outside for the two +oldest boys, no watching indoors by the hungry little brothers for Pat +and Mike to be through milking, and feeding, and pumping water into the +trough, so that they might all have breakfast together. Yes, there had +been a little work. The two horses which, with the wagon, had been +kindly lent them for their next day's moving were in the barn. Mike had +fed and watered them, Pat had combed them, and both had petted them. + +Many a time that day would Mrs. O'Callaghan slip out to stroke their +noses and pat their glossy necks and say in a choked voice, "Tim's +horses! Tim's horses! and we can't kape 'em!" And many a time that day +would she smooth the signs of grief from her face to go into the house +again with what cheer she could to her seven sons, who were gathered +listlessly about the kitchen stove. Many a time that day would she tell +herself stoutly, "I'll not give in! I'll not give in! I've to be brave +for eight, so I have. Brave for my b'ys, and brave for mesilf. And shall +I fret more than is good for Tim's horses whin I know it's to a kind +master they're goin', and he himsilf a helpin' us to-morrow with the +movin'? The Lord's will be done! There's thim that thinks the Lord has +no will for horses and such. And 'tis mesilf is thankful that I can't +agree with 'em." + +Occasionally, as the morning passed, one of the boys stepped to the +window for a moment, for even to glance out at flying flakes and a +wintry landscape was a relief from the depression that had settled down +upon them all. + +That was a neighborhood of churches. Seven or eight miles from any town, +it was remarkable to see three churches within half a mile of each +other. Small, plain buildings they were, but they represented the firm +convictions of the United Brethren, the United Presbyterians, and the +Methodists for many miles around. Now all these people, vary as they +might in church creeds, were united in a hearty admiration for plucky +little Mrs. O'Callaghan. They all knew, though the widow would not own +it, that destitution was at her door. The women feared that in taking +her boys to town she was taking them to their ruin, while the men +thought her course the only one, since a destitute woman can hardly run +a farm with only seven growing boys to help her. And for a day or two +there had been busy riding to and fro among the neighbors. + +The snow fell fitfully, and the wind howled in gusts, but every farmer +hitched up and took his wife and children with him, and no family went +empty-handed. For every road to every church lay straight by the widow's +door. Short cuts there were to be used on general occasions, but that +morning there was but the one road. And so it fell out that by ten +o'clock there was a goodly procession of farm wagons, with here and +there a buggy, and presently the widow's fence was lined with teams, and +the men, women, and children were alighting and thronging up the narrow +path to Mrs. O'Callaghan's door. There was no merriment, but there was a +kindly look on every face that was beautiful to see. And there were +those between whom bitterness had been growing that smiled upon each +other to-day, as they jostled burdens on the path; for every one carried +something, even the children, who stumbled by reason of their very +importance. + +The widow looked out and saw the full hands, and her heart sank. Was she +to be provided for by charity? She looked with her keen eyes into the +crowd of faces, and her heart went up into her throat. It was not +charity, but neighborliness and good will she read there. + +"I'd be wan of 'em, if somebody else was me, may the Lord bless 'em," +she said as she opened wide the door. + +In they trooped, and, for a moment, everybody seemed to be talking at +once. + +[Illustration: "For every one carried something."] + +It sometimes needs a great deal of talk to make a kind deed seem like +nothing at all. Sometimes even a great deal of talk fails to do so. It +failed to-day. + +Tears were running unheeded down the widow's face. Not even her boys +knew how everything was gone, and she left with no money to buy more. +And everybody tried not to see the tears and everybody talked faster +than ever. Then the first church bell rang out, and old and young turned +to go. There came a little lull as one after another gave the widow's +hand a cordial clasp. + +"My friends," said Mrs. O'Callaghan--she could be heard now--"my dear +friends, I thank you all. You have made my heart strong the day." + +"I call that a pretty good way to put in time on Sunday," said one man +to another as they were untying their teams. + +"Makes going to church seem worth while, for a fact," returned his +neighbor. + +Not till the last vehicle had passed from sight did the widow look round +upon what her neighbors had left her, and then she saw sufficient pantry +stores to last even seven growing boys for a month. And among the rest +of her gifts she found coal for a week. She had not noticed her sons as +she busily took account of her stock, but when she had finished she +said, "B'ys, b'ys! 'tis your father sees the hearts of these good people +this day and rej'ices. Ah, but Tim was a ginerous man himsilf! It's +hopin' I am you'll all be loike him." + +That night when the younger boys were in bed and only Pat and Mike sat +keeping her company, the widow rose from her seat, went to a box already +packed and took therefrom an account book and pencil. + +"They're your father's," she said, "but it's a good use I'll be puttin' +'em to." + +Writing was, for the hand otherwise capable, a laborious task; but no +help would she have from either of her sons. + +"May I ask you not to be spakin'?" she said politely to the two. "It's +not used to writin' I am, and I must be thinkin' besides." + +Two hours she sat there, her boys glancing curiously at her now and then +at first, and later falling into a doze in their chairs. She wrote two +words and stopped. Over and over she wrote two words and stopped. Over +and over until she had written two words and stopped fifty times. And +often she wiped away her tears. At last her task was done, and there in +the book, the letters misshapen and some of the words misspelled, were +the names of all who had come to her that morning. Just fifty there were +of them. She read them over carefully to see that she had not forgotten +any. + +"Maybe I'll be havin' the chance to do 'em a good turn some day," she +said. "I will, if I can. But whether I do or not, I've got it here in +writin', that when all was gone, and I didn't have nothin', the Lord +sint fifty friends to help me out. Let me be gettin' down in the heart +and discouraged again, and I'll take this book and read the Lord's +doin's for me. Come Pat and Moike! It's to bed you must be goin', for +we're to move to-morrow, do you moind?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +According to Mrs. O'Callaghan's plans, the moving was accomplished the +next day. There was but one load of household goods, so that the two +teams of their kind neighbor made only one trip, but that load, with the +seven boys and their mother, filled the shanty by the tracks to +overflowing. The little boys immediately upon their arrival had been all +eyes for the trains, and, failing them, the freight cars. And they had +reluctantly promised never to ascend the iron freight car ladders when +they had been in their new home only one hour. + +"Whin you're dailin' with b'ys take 'em in toime," was the widow's +motto. "What's the use of lettin' 'em climb up and fall down, and maybe +break their legs or arms, and then take their promise? Sure, and I'll +take it before the harm's done, so I will." + +Such tooting the delighted little fellows had never heard. "Barney!" +whispered Tommie, in the middle of the night, with a nudge. "Barney! +there's another of 'em!" + +"And listen to the bell on it," returned Barney. "Ain't you glad we +moved?" + +And then they fell asleep to wake and repeat the conversation a little +later. Larry was the only one who slept the night through. The rest were +waked so many times by the unaccustomed noise that one night seemed like +twenty. + +"We'll be used to it in toime," said the heavy-eyed little widow to +yawning Pat and Mike the next morning. "And the more things you get used +to in this world the better for you. I belave it's quite something loike +to be able to sleep with engines tootin' and blowin' off steam, and +bells a-ringin', and cars a-bumpin'. Even a baby can slape where 'tis +quiet, you know." + +Breakfast had been over an hour. + +"Now, Pat," said his mother, "that's not the way to make beds. Off with +them covers and make 'em over again." + +Mrs. O'Callaghan was standing in the doorway and looking in at the +roomful of beds. "I don't mane it for unkindness, Pat, but sure and the +way you've got 'em made up they look jist loike pigs' nests with covers +over 'em. There, that's better," she commented when Pat had obediently +made all the beds over again under her instructions. "You can't larn all +there is to bed-makin' in a day. 'Tis practice makes parfect, as your +copy book used to say. But I'm thinkin' you'll have it in a week, for +you're your father's son, and he was a quick wan to larn, was Tim. And +now I'll be teachin' you a bit of cookin' while I have the chance. You +must larn that as quick as you can, Pat, for a poor cook wastes a sight, +besides settin' dishes of stuff on the table that none but pigs can eat. +And in most places the pigs would get their messes, but here we've got +no pigs, and whativer you cook we've got to be eatin'. Andy was askin' +for beans for to-morrow a bit ago. What's your ideas about bakin' beans, +Pat? How would you do it?" + +Pat thought a moment. "I'd wash 'em good, and put 'em in a pan, and bake +'em," he said. + +"Sure, then, you've left out one thing. With that receipt, Pat, you'd +need a hammer to crack 'em with after they was baked. No, no, Pat, you +pick 'em over good and put 'em a-soak over night. In the mornin' you +pick 'em over again, and wash 'em good and bile 'em awhile, and pour off +the water, and bile 'em again in fresh water with jist enough salt in +it, and then you put 'em in the oven and bake 'em along with a piece of +pork that's been a-bilin' in another kittle all the toime." + +Pat looked a trifle astonished, but all he said was, "_Baked beans_ +is a queer name for 'em, ain't it?" + +Mrs. O'Callaghan smiled. "That's the short of it, Pat, jist the short of +it. The names of things don't tell half there is to 'em sometoimes. And +now for the dinner. It's belavin' I am you can cook it with me standin' +by to help you out when you get into trouble." + +Pat tied on a clean apron, washed his hands and set to work. + +"That's it! That's it!" encouraged Mrs. O'Callaghan, from time to time, +as the cooking progressed. "And I'll jist be tellin' you, Pat, you're +not so green as some girls I've seen. I'd rather have a handy b'y as an +unhandy girl any day." + +A little later she stood in the shanty door. "Come, Moike!" she called. +"Bring the little b'ys in to dinner. Pat's a-dishin' it a'ready." + +Mike had been detailed by his prudent mother as a guard to prevent his +small brothers from making too intimate acquaintance with freight cars +and engines. He was by this time pretty hungry, and he marshaled in his +squad with scant ceremony. + +A week went by and the widow was settled. Each boy was placed in his +proper class at the public school, and the mother had her coveted four +washing places. + +"I didn't come to town to be foolin' my toime away, so I didn't," said +Mrs. O'Callaghan, as she sat down to rest with a satisfied face. "Pat," +she continued, "you've done foine with the work this week. All I've to +say is, 'Kape on.' It'll kape you busy at it with school on your hands, +but, sure, them as is busy ain't in mischief, nayther." + +The next week all went well with the widow and Larry as usual, but the +boys at school found rough sailing. + +"Ah, but Mrs. Thompson's the jewel!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan on Monday +evening. "She do be sayin' that Larry's a cute little fellow, and she +has him in to play where she is, and he gets to hear the canary bird +sing, so he does. Didn't I be tellin' you, Pat, that I knew there was +them in this town would help me that way? But what makes you all look so +glum? Didn't you foind the school foine the day? Niver moind! You ain't +acquainted yet. And jist remember that iverybody has a deal to bear in +this world, and the poor most of all. If anybody does you a rale wrong, +come tell me of it. But if it's only nignaggin', say naught about it. +'Twon't last foriver, anyway, and them that's mane enough to nignag a +poor b'y is too mane to desarve attintion, so they are." + +The widow looked searchingly at her older sons. She saw them, under the +tonic of her sound counsel, straighten themselves with renewed courage, +and she smiled upon them. + +"I'll niver be makin' Tim's b'ys weak-spirited by lettin' 'em +tittle-tattle of what can't be helped," she thought. + +"Now, b'ys, heads up and do your bist!" she said the next morning as she +went to her work. + +But it was one thing to hold up their heads at the shanty, and quite +another to hold them up on the noisy, swarming campus where they knew +nobody, and where the ill-bred bullies of the school felt free to jeer +and gibe at their poor clothing and their shy, awkward ways. + +"Patrick O'Callaghan!" yelled Jim Barrows derisively. + +It was recess and the campus was overflowing with boys and girls, but +Pat was alone. "Just over from the 'ould coonthry'," he continued. "You +can tell by his clothes. He got wet a-comin', and just see how they've +shrunk!" + +The overgrown, hulking fellow lounged closer to the tall and slender +Irish boy, followed by the rough set that acknowledged him as a leader. +Some measured the distance from the ends of Pat's jacket sleeves to his +wrists, while others predicted the number of days that must elapse +before his arms burst through the sleeves. + +The spirit of the country-bred boy quailed before this coarse abuse, +which he knew not how to resent. He glanced about him, but no way of +escape offered. He was hemmed in. And then the bell struck. Recess was +over. He thought of his brothers in different grades from himself, +though in the same building. "Is there them that makes it hot for 'em +when they can?" he said anxiously to himself. "We'll have to be stayin' +more together mornin's and noons and recesses, so we will." + +But staying together did not avail. Jim Barrows and his set found more +delight in tormenting several unresisting victims than they could +possibly have enjoyed with only one. + +"Ah, but this nignaggin's hard to stand!" thought Pat a week later. He +was on his way to school. Pat was always last to get off on account of +his work. That morning Jim Barrows was feeling particularly valiant. He +thought of the "O'Callaghan tribe," as he called them, and his spirits +rose. He was seventeen and large for his age. "Them low Irish needs +somebody to keep 'em to their places," he said to himself, "and I'm the +one to do it." + +Just then he spied Andy a few steps ahead of him, Andy, who was only +eleven, and small and frail. Two strides of his long legs overtook the +little boy. A big, ugly hand laid itself firmly on the shrinking little +shoulder. Words of abuse assailed the sensitive ears, and were followed +by a rude blow. Then Jim Barrows, regarding his duty done for that time, +lounged on, leaving the little fellow crying pitifully. + +A few moments later, Pat came along, and, finding his favorite brother +crying, insisted upon knowing the reason. And Andy told him. With all +the abuse they had borne, not one of the brothers had been struck +before. As Pat listened his anger grew to fury. His blue eyes flashed +like steel. + +"Cheer up, Andy!" he said, "and run on to school. You needn't be afraid. +I can't go with you; I've business on hand. But you needn't be afraid." + +He had just ten minutes till school would call. Who was that, two blocks +off, loitering on a corner? Was it?--it was Jim Barrows. + +[Illustration: "'Cheer up, Andy!' he said."] + +With a dogged step that did not seem hurried, Pat yet went rapidly +forward. Straight up to the bully he walked and looked him firmly in the +eye. "You struck my brother Andy because you thought you could," he +said. And then, in the language of those Western boys, "he lit into +him." "'Tis Andy's fist is on you now!" he cried, while he rained blows +on the hulking coward, who did not offer to defend himself. "And there!" +with a tremendous kick as Jim Barrows turned to run, "is a taste of his +foot. Touch him again if you dare!" + +Needless to say, he didn't dare. "I hear your brother Andy's been +fighting," said the principal, as he stopped Pat the next day in the +street. "At least, there are marks of Andy's fist and Andy's foot on Jim +Barrows." His eyes twinkled as he spoke and then grew grave again. +"Fighting's a bad thing in general, but you are excusable, my lad, you +are excusable." + +Pat looked after the principal going with a quick firm step on his busy +way, and thought him the finest man in town, for, so far, nobody had +given the poor Irish boy a word of sympathy and encouragement. + +That evening Pat ventured to tell his mother. + +"And so that's what the principal said, is it?" commented Mrs. +O'Callaghan. "He's a man of sinse. Your father was a man of great sinse, +Pat. Fightin' is a bad thing, so it is. But your father's gone, and it's +you must kape the little wans from harm in his place. You'd be but a bad +brother to stand by and see any wan strike little Andy. There's some +things has got to be put a stop to, and the sooner it's done the better, +says I." Then after a pause, "I hope you larn your lessons, Pat?" + +"I do, mother." + +"I thought you would. Your father always larnt all that come handy to +him. Larnin's no load, Pat. Larn all you can." + +Now Pat, with the exception of Latin, was no whit behind other boys of +his age, for he had been sent to school in the country from the time he +was five years old. The fight being over, he gave his mind thoroughly to +his books, a thing he could not do while he did not know what to expect +from Jim Barrows and his set, and his class-standing was high. + +And now the first of April was at hand. The O'Callaghans had been a +month in town and the widow was beginning to see that she had +overestimated the purchasing power of what she could earn at four +washing places. Four dollars a week needed a supplement. How could it be +supplied? Mrs. O'Callaghan cast about in her mind. She had already +discovered that Wennott offered a poor field for employment, so far as +boys were concerned, and yet, in some way, her boys must help her. By +day, by night she thought and could hit upon nothing unless she took her +sons from school. + +"And that I'll not do," she said, "for larnin' is at the root of +everything." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Is Friday an unlucky day? You could not get Mrs. O'Callaghan to think +so, for it was upon the Friday that closed a week of anxious thinking +that Mrs. Brady called at the shanty. Neither could you get Mrs. Brady +to think so, for--but let us begin a little farther back. Hired girls, +as they were called in Wennott, were extremely scarce. Mrs. Brady was +without one--could not get one, though she had advertised long and +patiently. Now she was tired to exhaustion. Sitting in the old wooden +rocker that had been Mr. O'Callaghan's, Mrs. Brady rested a few moments +closely surrounded on all sides by the O'Callaghan furniture. + +"'Tis a bit snug, ma'am," Mrs. O'Callaghan had said when piloting her to +this seat, "but it's my belafe my b'ys don't moind the snugness of it so +much as they would if they was girls." + +Mrs. Brady mechanically agreed. + +The four walls of the kitchen were rather too close together to inclose +a bed, a wash-bench, two tubs, a cooking stove, a table, seven Windsor +chairs, the water pail, the cupboard, and the rocking-chair in which +Mrs. Brady sat, and leave anything but a tortuous path for locomotion. +The boys knew the track, however, and seldom ran up against anything +with sufficient force to disturb it or their own serenity. But there was +not a speck of dust anywhere, as Mrs. Brady noticed. + +The widow's face was a little careworn and anxious as she sat close at +hand in one of the wooden chairs listening to Mrs. Brady's explanation +of her need of help. + +"You have been recommended to me by Mrs. Thompson. Could you come to me +to-morrow, Mrs. O'Callaghan? It will be a day of sweeping and general +cleaning," she concluded. + +The widow's countenance began to brighten. She saw her way out of the +difficulty that had been puzzling her. + +"I can't come mesilf," she answered politely, "for what with my sivin +b'ys I've my own work that can't be neglected. But my son, Pat, will do +it for you. I'll come with him jist to get him started loike, for he's +niver swept a carpet, though he swapes a bare floor ilegant." + +Well, to be sure, Mrs. Brady was not overjoyed. But she saw it was Pat +or nobody, and she was very tired. So she agreed to try him. + +"And when will you have him come?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan. There was no +doubt expressed on the mother's face; no fear lest her son might not be +able to please. + +"At eight," responded Mrs. Brady. "I cannot be ready for him sooner." + +"Then together we'll be there, you may depind." + +And Mrs. Brady, on the whole dissatisfied, went on her way. "If that +boy--Pat, I think she called him--can do housework satisfactorily, he's +the only boy that I've heard of here that can," she thought. + +The next morning when the two presented themselves, Mrs. Brady, after +showing Mrs. O'Callaghan where to leave her wraps, led the way at once +to her bedroom. "Perhaps you will just make my bed for me before you go, +Mrs. O'Callaghan," she insinuated. "It has been properly aired and is +ready." + +"Oh, Pat will make it for you, ma'am," was the answer, and again Mrs. +Brady yielded. + +"Now, Pat, on with your blouse." + +The two women waited while Pat untied the bundle he carried and put on a +clean cotton blouse. + +"'Twas his father's blouse, ma'am. A bit loose now, but he'll grow to +it. He's very loike his father." + +Mrs. Brady looked at the tall, slender boy wearing his father's blouse +and his mother's apron, with an old straw hat on his head for a dust +protector, and then at the mother watching his every movement with +loving eyes, and only anxious that he might give satisfaction. And all +sense of incongruity vanished from her mind. + +"Now, Pat, show the lady what you can do." And Pat obeyed as if he were +five instead of fifteen. The dead father had trained his sons from their +babyhood to yield implicit obedience to their mother. Deftly he set to +work. He turned the mattress; he smoothed and tucked in each sheet and +cover as he put it on; he beat up the pillows, and within ten minutes +the bed was perfectly made. There was no need for Mrs. Brady to speak. +She showed her surprise and delight in her face. + +"I was thinkin' Pat could suit you, ma'am," smiled the mother. "And now, +if you've more beds, maybe Pat had better make 'em before the dust of +the swapin' is on him." + +"I have no more this morning," responded Mrs. Brady courteously. + +[Illustration: "Mrs. Brady looked at the tall, slender boy."] + +"Then, Pat, there's the broom." Then she turned to Mrs. Brady. "Now, +ma'am, what's your ideas about swapin'? There's them that says, 'Swape +aisy and not be gettin' the wools off the carpet.' But them wools don't +many of 'em come off the carpet. There's a plinty of 'em comes on bare +floors that ain't swept regular. I says, 'A vigorous swapin' and no +light brushin' except by a lady loike yoursilf as hasn't got strength.'" + +"Those are my ideas, too," said Mrs. Brady as with an air of +satisfaction she began to spread the dust covers over her bed. + +All day Pat swept and dusted and wiped paint and window panes, and at +night he went home with seventy-five cents in his pocket. + +The widow was getting supper, but she worked mechanically, for her heart +was in her ears, and they were listening for Pat's step. The brothers, +stowed here and there in chinks between the pieces of furniture, watched +with eager eyes their mother's movements, and sniffed the savory odors +that escaped from a perfectly clean saucepan in capable hands. But no +boy lounged on the bed, nor even leaned against it, and no one sat in +the father's chair. To sit there meant special honor at the hands of the +family. + +"And it's Pat will sit in the rocking-chair and rest himsilf this +avenin'," cried Mrs. O'Callaghan, returning to her cooking from a brief +trip to the door. "It's Pat'll be bringin' home money the night; honest +money that he's earned." + +The little boys appeared impressed, and on Mike's face came a look of +determination that led his mother to say, "All in good toime, Moike. +You're as willin' as Pat any day. I know that. And the way you look +after the little b'ys, your father himsilf couldn't do better." + +And then Pat came stepping in. + +"Did she praise you, Pat?" cried the little woman as she dished up the +supper. She was hungry for appreciation of her boy. + +"She did that. She said, 'Patrick, you're elegant help, and will you +come again next Saturday?" + +"And what did you tell her?" + +"I told her I would, and let that Jim Barrows keep a civil tongue in his +head when he hears of it, or I'll be teaching him another lesson. He'll +not be throwin' it up to me that it's girl's work I'm doin' if he knows +what's best for him." + +"Listen to me, Pat," said his mother, soberly. "I'll be tellin' you now +my plans for you so you'll not be runnin' agin 'em. It's to be a +gintleman you are, and gintlemen don't fight jist because some Jim +Barrows of a fellow says tauntin' words to 'em. You had to kape him off +Andy, but moindin' his impudence to yoursilf is another thing." + +For the first time in his life Pat looked unconvinced of his mother's +wisdom, and she went on soothingly, "But sure and I don't belave he'll +be sayin' a word to you, Pat. And anyway you know how many of the +blissid saints and angels was women on the earth, and how it was their +work to kape things clane and pleasant for them they loved. And that +ain't a work to be ashamed of by girl or b'y." + +The little boys busily eating had seemed not to notice. Only Mike had +looked on with interest. But into all their hearts had sunk the lesson +that gentlemen did not fight. + +"Are we all to be gintlemen?" asked Barney looking up when his plate was +quite empty. + +"Ivery wan of you. What should your father's b'ys be but gintlemen and +him the best man as iver lived?" + +It was not to be expected that in any place service such as Pat's would +be willingly done without, least of all in Wennott. The more Mrs. Brady +thought of it, the smaller and more unsatisfactory did Saturday appear, +and on Friday morning she went again to the shanty. + +"And I hope you're not come to say you've changed your moind about +wantin' Pat to-morrow," said Mrs. O'Callaghan when civil greetings had +been exchanged and Mrs. Brady sat once more in the rocker. + +"In one sense I have changed my mind," answered Mrs. Brady with a smile. +"I want Pat to-morrow, but I want him all the other days of the week, +too." + +The widow was silent. She had not planned so far as this. What would Pat +say? Would he do it? + +"I will give him his board and lodging and a dollar a week to help me +Saturday and Sunday, and before and after school the other days of the +week. Saturday he would have to work all day, of course, but Sunday he +would have almost nothing to do," said Mrs. Brady. "The washing and +ironing I put out," she added as Mrs. O'Callaghan still hesitated. + +"You're very koind, ma'am," responded the widow after a pause. "I hope +Pat'll go to you. I'll ask him." + +"What makes you think he might not like to come?" inquired Mrs. Brady, +anxious in her turn. + +"Well, you see, ma'am, 'tis girl's work entoirely you want him to do. +And Pat's been put on and made fun of almost more than he can bear since +we moved to Wennott. Sure and them b'ys--I'd call 'em imps, only they're +big for imps, bein' bigger and stouter than Pat himsilf--they sets on +him and foretells when his arms is goin' to burst through his sleeves +and such as that, loike an almanac, ma'am. And him a-loikin' nice +clothes as well as any one, only he can't get 'em because it's poor we +are, ma'am. Not that there's anything wrong about that. 'Tis the Lord's +will that it's so, and we're doin' our best with it. But Pat's young. He +didn't mean to tell me of it, but his moind bein' full of it, it slipped +out. + +"Pat, he done as I told him, and come to you a-Saturday, and he'd kape +on comin' Saturdays, but I can't tell him he must go out to service +loike a girl, when I know what thim b'ys will have in store for him. I +must jist ask him, do you see? And what he'll say, I can't tell. He's +mighty brave. Maybe he'll come. I've been tellin' him he's not to be +lickin' that Jim Barrows if he is impudent to him." + +"Does Pat fight?" asked Mrs. Brady doubtfully. "He seemed so amiable." + +"And pleasant he is," cried the widow earnestly. "'Twas not for himsilf +he fought, do you understand. 'Twas because Jim Barrows hurt Andy's +feelin's and struck him besides. Andy's my third son, ma'am. He's only +eleven, and not strong ayther. And Pat, he loves him better, I belave, +than he does all the rest of the b'ys put together." + +"Oh!" said Mrs. Brady with a relieved air. + +"But havin' got a taste of makin' Jim Barrows kape off Andy has sort of +got him in the notion of not takin' nothin' off him, do you see? But +it's his father has a good influence over him yet. Tim's in his grave, +ma'am, but it's meanin' I am he shall still rule his b'ys. And he does, +too." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +There was a certain part of Wennott which its own residents were wont to +think was _the_ part of town in which to live. Sometimes in +confidence they even congratulated themselves over their own good +fortune and commiserated the rest of the town who lived upon the flat +lands. + +The rest of the town were not discontented in the least. They thought +northeast Wennott was a little far out, themselves. And it was a good +three-quarters of a mile from the public square. But the knolls were not +to be had any nearer, and those who owned them felt repaid for the walk +it took to reach them. The places were larger, the air was fresher and +sweeter, and there was only one knoll to rent among them all. Beyond the +knolls were the northeast suburbs, built upon as flat land as any the +town afforded, and farther on stretched rolling prairie, picturesquely +beautiful. It was upon one of the knolls that Mrs. Brady lived, in a +square house of an old-fashioned build, having a hall running through +the center with rooms on each side. It fronted the west. To the left, as +one entered, was the dining-room; to the right, the parlor, whose always +open folding doors made the pleasant sitting-room a part of itself. +There was a bay window in the east end of the sitting-room, and one's +first glance in at the parlor door from the hall always traveled past +everything else to rest on the mass of green and blossoms in the bay +window. For Mrs. Brady was an expert at floriculture. Here and there on +the lawn, not crowded, but just where it seemed natural to find them, +were rosebushes of different varieties that waited patiently all winter +for the appreciation of their beauty which summer was sure to bring, and +among them were some of the kinds Mrs. Brady had loved in the Eastern +home of her girlhood. + +One stepped out from the south door of the sitting-room to find narrow +beds for all sorts of summer blooms hugging the house, and looked about +to see farther on occasional other beds. Everything was represented in +her flower garden, from sweet alyssum and mignonette to roses and +lilies, just as a little of all sweet qualities mingled themselves in +her disposition. She was no longer young, and she had come to be quite +frail. + +"I hope he will come," she said as she let herself in at the front door. + +From the shanty she had come the back way, a part of which followed the +railroad track, and the walk had not been very long, but wearily she +sank down to rest. + +"He's such a handy boy," she thought. "If he shouldn't come!" + +And down at the shanty Mrs. O'Callaghan, as she washed vigorously for +her boys, was thinking, too. + +"It's wishin' I am 'twas avenin'," she cried at last, "and then 'twould +be off my moind, so 'twould. I can't tell no more than nothin' what +Pat'll be sayin'. And what's worse, I can't tell what I want him to be +sayin'. 'Tis the best I want him to be doin', but what's the best? If he +don't go, there's a chance gone of earnin' what we need. And if he does +go, I'll be at my wits' ends to kape him from settlin' that Jim Barrows. +It's widows as has their trials when they've sivin b'ys on their hands, +and all of 'em foine wans at that." + +It was a very uncertain day. Cloud followed sunshine, and a sprinkle of +rain the cloud, over and over again. + +"Sure an' the weather an' me's as loike as two peas the day. We're +nayther of us to be depinded on, so we ain't, not knowin' what we want. +Look at my clothes not dryin' an' me a-frettin'. What's the use of it +all? Let Pat do as he will, I'll think no more of it." + +The little woman was capable. She could work; she could control her +boys, though sometimes, when it seemed best, she could give control of +them into their own hands, and she could govern her thoughts with some +measure of success. So, casting her worries behind her, she went about +brightly and cheerily as if nothing of an anxious nature lay before her, +amusing Larry with chatter suited to his years, and making him contented +to stay indoors while she toiled. For Mrs. O'Callaghan was as young as +her youngest child, and as old as her oldest. It was easy for the boys +to get close to mother. Only once did her mind revert to the forbidden +theme. Dinner was over and she stood watching Pat, who was fast +disappearing on his way to school. + +"There's toimes to be spakin', and toimes to be kapin' still," she said. +"Niver a word must I be sayin' till the rest of 'em's abed, and it's +hard waitin', so it is. It's my belafe that's what makes some b'ys so +unruly--takin' 'em at the wrong toime. Sure and b'ys has their feelin's +loike the rest of the world. Spake to 'em by their lone silves when +you've aught to say to 'em. There's niver a man of 'em all, not even +Gineral Brady himsilf, would loike bein' bawled at in a crowd about +somethin' that needed thinkin' over. And Gineral Brady's the foine man, +too. Big and straight he walks, a-wearin' his plug hat, and old and +young is plazed to meet him. Well, his business is done. There's no more +foightin'. But he was a brave foighter! My Tim saw him at it more'n +wanst. Tim was a long way behind the Gineral, but Tim, he done his duty, +too. Sure some has to be behoind, and if that's your place, 'Make that +place respicted,' says I." + +She turned from the door and went back to her work. + +"There's some as thinks the Gineral has a business," she went on. +"There's them that calls him a banker. But what sort of a business is +that now? Jist none at all. All he does is to take in the money, and put +it in a safe place where nobody won't steal it, and hand it out again +when it's needed, and lend a little now and then to somebody that wants +it and is loikely to be payin' it back again. Anybody could do that. +There's no work to it. And, by the same token, it's no business. When +the war was over, the Gineral's business was done, I say, and it's +hopin' I am it'll soon be evenin', for I'm wantin' to hear what Pat'll +say." + +It was, in the main, a quiet supper at the shanty, and, for the most +part, a silent evening. One by one the boys went to bed, and Pat and his +mother were left alone. + +"Pat," began Mrs. O'Callaghan, in a tremble of eagerness and +apprehension, "who do you think was here the mornin'?" + +"Sure and I couldn't guess, mother dear. You'll have to be tellin' me." + +"And so I will," was the prompt reply. "'Twas Mrs. Gineral Brady, then. +And she loikes your work that well, Pat, she wants you to go to her +house to live." + +At first the boy looked bewildered. Then a light of understanding +flashed over his face, and he blushed as if with shame. To go out to +service like a girl! He couldn't do it, and he wouldn't. But even in his +fierce young indignation he restrained himself. He had suffered so much +of late that he was growing very careful about inflicting suffering upon +others, especially upon his mother. He covered his eyes with his hand +and sat quite still for a few moments before he inquired, "What did you +tell her?" + +"I told her I'd ask you, Pat. Only that." The boy wheeled round in the +old Windsor chair in which he sat, threw his arms over the top of its +back and buried his face. They had been in town now six weeks. Pat had +learned by his experience in cooking how fast supplies went in a large +family. Two weeks before, the generous contributions of their country +neighbors had given entirely out, and Pat, as marketer, had learned how +much money it took to buy with. Four dollars a week would not, could +not, support the family even in summer time. Hard knowledge was this for +a boy of fifteen to have, and hardly had it been learned. If he went, +there was Jim Barrows and his set with more jeers and insults which he +must not avenge. If he did not go--all at once he remembered that ride +home from Wennott with his mother, when he had asked her what he could +do and what Mike could do to help. Was this the answer? Was he to live +out like a girl, and Mike to take his place with the work at home? + +He lifted his face, and his blue eyes had a pleading look that went to +the widow's heart. "Mother, tell me what I must do," he said. + +"I can't, Pat dear. You must say for yoursilf." + +There was loving sympathy in look and tone, but the little woman's +determination was clear. Pat must decide for himself. And the young head +went down again. + +Ten long minutes went by before Pat spoke again, and his voice had a +muffled sound, for his face was not lifted. "Mother, are you willin'?" +he asked. + +"I am, Pat, my son." + +Heavier the dreadful prospect pressed upon him. He could trust his +mother, and she was willing. Then it must be right. + +More minutes went by. Pat had a telltale voice. Clear and musical, it +had ever revealed to the mother the heart of her son. And its sadness +and submission smote upon her as he said at last, "You may tell her I'll +go, mother." + +"I always knowed you was brave, Pat," said Mrs. O'Callaghan. Then a +rough little hand was laid on his head--the hand of an honest +washerwoman--and in a reverent tone came the words, "Your father was +brave." + +The boy looked up gratefully. To be likened to his father was dear to +him. + +"Yes, Pat," went on Mrs. O'Callaghan. "'Most anybody can take a noice +payin' job as suits 'em, but it's the brave wans that takes the work +they don't want to do and does it good, too." + +And then the mother who had the courage to battle cheerfully for her +children, and the son who had the courage to do what seemed best in the +face of contempt and ridicule, went to their rest. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The next morning Pat stepped out into the kitchen and donned his apron +in a downcast mood. The uplift of his mother's praise had passed, and +the fact remained that to-day he was to go out to service like a girl. +The little boys were up and stowed here and there waiting for breakfast. +Some little boys cannot be kept in bed mornings as long as their elders +could wish, and the widow's little boys were of that kind. + +"Get up, if you want to," was Mrs. O'Callaghan's counsel to her youngest +sons, "but see to it you don't get under Pat's feet. Nayther must you be +runnin' out doors, for Moike to be haulin' you in when breakfast's +ready." + +These orders shut the little fellows into a narrow space, and they were +always eager for the morning meal to be over. Andy and Jim were not in +such a hurry to rise, having reached the age when boys need a deal of +persuasion to get them up. + +"They'll be along in a minute," thought the widow. "Here comes Moike." + +[Illustration: "Pat donned his apron."] + +Along they were in a minute, as their mother had predicted. The little +woman was fond of effect. "There's toimes when it's the thing to spake +before 'em all," she thought. "This is wan of 'em. Pat needs heartenin' +a bit." + +Then with an air of authority she said: "Pat, off with your apron!" + +The rest were eyes and ears at once as their mother meant they should +be, but Pat only stared in surprise. Some way he felt stupid this +morning. + +"Off with your apron," repeated Mrs. O'Callaghan, "and sit you down in +the father's chair. I get the breakfast this mornin'." + +With a shamefaced blush Pat obeyed, amid the wondering looks of his +brothers. + +"You'll be sayin' farewell to Pat this mornin'," went on the widow, her +glance traveling from one to another. "It's lavin' us he is to go to +Gineral Brady's to live. 'Tis hard toimes we've been havin' and harder's +before us. Pat seen it and he's a-goin' to help. He'll be gettin' his +board and he'll still be goin' to school." + +At this Pat started. + +"Did you think I'd be willin' for you to lave school, my son?" asked the +mother tenderly. + +Then turning to the rest once more, "And it's a dollar a week he'll be +gettin' besides. He's his father's son, and he's got a head older than +his years, or he'd niver 'a' been the brave b'y he is, nor seen nothin' +to be brave about, nayther. And he'll be comin' to visit us when Mrs. +Brady can spare him, and that'll be when his work's done, of course; and +always he sits in his father's chair." + +Redder and redder flushed Pat's cheeks, seeing which the widow adroitly +drew the general attention to her second son. + +"And here's the chance for Moike," she said, going busily on with her +work. "Will you be makin' the beds and kapin' things shinin' and doin' +the cookin' for us all?" + +"You know I will, mother." + +The little woman smiled. "Sure and I knowed you would. I jist asked you. + +"Now, b'ys, there's what they call permotions. Often and often have I +heard your father spake of 'em. We're havin' some of 'em this mornin'. +Pat, he goes to earnin' money and his board. That gives Moike a chance +to step up into his place, do you see? That's what permotions is for, +I'm thinkin'--to give the wans behoind you a chance. Always step up when +you honestly can, b'ys, if for no other reason, to give the wan behoind +you a chance. There's no tellin' what he can do till he gets a chance, +do you see? Tim, he wouldn't 'a' stayed foightin' a private if the wan +ahead of him had only done his duty and stepped up. But some folks niver +does their duty, and it's hopin' I am you'll none of you be loike 'em. +It's a noice place Pat's goin' to, so 'tis. There's a queer little house +with a glass roof on jist across the street from it, and, by the same +token, it's a wonder how they can kape a glass roof on it. There's them +that can't even kape their window glass in, so there is, but goes +a-stuffin' up the holes with what they can get. It's full of plants, so +'tis, a sort of a garden house where they sells flowers for weddin's and +funerals and such, and maybe Pat'll be showin' you through it some day +when he gets acquainted. I'm told anybody can see it. Grane house, I +belave they calls it, but why anybody should call a garden house a grane +house I can't tell, for sure and it's not a bit of a grane idea to sell +flowers if you can find them that has the money to buy 'em." + +At this, quiet little Andy, who was fond of his book, glanced up. "Maybe +they call it greenhouse because it's full of green things," he said. + +The widow nodded two or three times in a convinced manner. "To be sure. +That's the reason," she said. "And it's proud I am to have for my third +son a b'y that can give the reasons of things. And there's another +permotion we was forgettin'. Andy'll take Moike's place, so he will, and +look after the little b'ys. A b'y that can give reasons can look after +'em wonderful, so he can, if he don't get so full of his reasons that he +forgets the little b'ys entoirely. But Andy'll not be doin' that. I +niver told you before, but your father's favorite brother was named +Andy, and a great wan he was for reasons, as I've heard. + +"Now breakfast's ready, so 'tis. I took my toime to it, for permotions +always takes toime. There's them that wants permotion in such a hurry +that they all but knocks over the wans in front of 'em. And that's bad, +so 'tis. And no way at all, nayther. Jist kape yoursilf ready to step, +and when the toime comes step aisy loike a gintleman, and then folks +rej'ices with you, instead of feelin' of their bumps and wonderin' at +your impudence. And the worst of them koind of tryin's after permotions +is that it hurts them behoind you, for they're jist a-breathin' aisy, do +you see, when back you come a-tumblin' a-top of 'em, and lucky you are +if you don't go past 'em, and land nobody knows where." + +Seldom were the little boys so deluged with wisdom beyond their power of +comprehension, but this was a special occasion, and as the general +effect of the widow's remarks was to stir up in all a determination to +do their best just where they were, her aim had been accomplished. Pat, +in particular, was encouraged. Perhaps he was in line of promotion. He +hoped it might come soon. + +"Now, Moike," cried Mrs. O'Callaghan when Pat was gone, "here's a chance +for you. It's lucky I am to be at home the day. I'll be teachin' you a +bit of all sorts, so I will, for you've everything to larn, Moike, and +that's the truth, barrin' the lay of the tracks, and the switches, and +the empty cars a-standin' about, and how to kape the little b'ys from +hurtin' thimsilves." + +Mike looked rather disheartened. + +"You niver let 'em get hurted wanst, did you, Moike? And that's doin' +well, too. I hope Andy'll be comin' up to you in that." + +So encouragingly did his mother smile upon him as she said these last +words that he visibly brightened. He was not tall and slender like Pat, +but rather short and of a sturdy build. And he tied on his apron with +determination in his eye. + +"Do you know what you look loike, Moike?" + +The boy glanced at her inquiringly. + +"You look loike you was goin' to make short work of your larnin' and +come up to Pat before you know it. I niver knowed a b'y to get the worst +of it that looked that way out of his eye. It's a sort of 'do it I will, +and let them stop me that can' look, Moike dear. Not that anybody wants +to stop you, and it's an ilegant look, too, as I've often seen on your +father's face when he had a hard job ahead of him." + +By this time Mike was ready for anything. He really knew more than his +mother gave him credit for, having furtively watched Pat more than once. + +"Well, well, Moike!" exclaimed Mrs. O'Callaghan when the last bed was +made. "That's a sight better as Pat's first try at bed-makin'. If he was +here he'd say that wasn't so bad nayther, and it's yoursilf as knows +Pat's an ilegant bed-maker. If you'd seen him astonishin' Mrs. Gineral +Brady you'd 'a' seen a sight now. I was proud that day." + +Mike smiled with satisfaction and reached for the broom. His mother said +nothing, but not a move escaped her critical eye. As far as the beds +could be moved, they were moved, and around them and under them went +Mike's busy broom. Mike was warm-blooded, and it was a pretty red-faced +boy that stood at last before his mother with the dustpan in his hand. +There was strong approval on the little woman's face. + +"Pat himsilf couldn't 'a' beat that. It's my belafe you've got a gift +for swapin'," she said. "I can leave home to go to my washin' with an +aisy mind, I see, and with no fears of chance callers foindin' dirty +floors and mussy-lookin' beds a-disgracin' me. If widows is iver lucky, +which I doubt, Moike, I'm lucky this far. I've got some wonderful foine +sons, so I have." + +Mike, at this, beamed with the consciousness that he was one of the sons +and a fully appreciated one, too. A long time he had stood in the shadow +of Pat's achievements. This morning he was showing what he could do. + +"This permotion is pretty foine," said Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Moike, my b'y, +you have stepped up aisy loike a gintleman into Pat's place, and now +let's see you cook." + +Mike looked crestfallen at once. "I can't cook, mother," he said. "Not +the least in the world. Often and often I've watched Pat, but I never +could get the hang of it." + +The widow was silent a moment, + +"Well, then!" she cried, "you've got the hang of bein' an honest b'y, +and not pretindin' to do what you can't do, and that's better as bein' +the best cook in the world. Niver do you pretind, Moike, not because +there's always somebody about to foind you out, but because pretindin's +mean. I'd have no pride left in me if I could think I had a pretindin' +b'y about the house. And now, Moike, I'll teach you to cook. It's my +belafe you can larn it. Why, Pat didn't know nothin' about it when he +begun, and now he can cook meat and potatoes and such better as many a +doless girl I've seen. You think Pat's cookin' tastes pretty good, don't +you, Moike?" + +"I do, mother," said Mike earnestly and without a tinge of jealousy in +his tone. He loved and admired Pat with all his heart. + +"You can larn it, too, if you only think so," encouraged Mrs. +O'Callaghan. + +"There's them that think's that cookin's a special gift, and they're +right, too. But there's things about cookin' that anybody can attind to, +such as havin' kettles and pans clean, and kapin' the fire up when it's +needed, and not roastin' a body's brains out when it ain't needed. Yes, +and there's other things," she continued with increasing earnestness. +"There's them as thinks if they've a book or paper stuck about handy, +and them a-poppin' down to read a bit ivery now and then, it shows that +cookin's beneath 'em. And then the meat burns or it sogs and gets tough, +the potatoes don't get the water poured off of 'em in toime, and things +biles over on the stove or don't bile at all, at all, and what does all +that show, Moike? Not that they're above cookin', but that they're +lackin' in sinse. For a sinsible person always pays attintion to what +they're at, but a silly is lookin' all ways but the right wan, and ten +to wan but if you looked inside their skulls you'd foind 'em that empty +it would astonish you. Not that I'm down on readin', but that readin' +and cookin' hadn't ought to be mixed. Now, Moike, if any of these things +I've been tellin' you of happens to your cookin', you'll know where to +put the blame. Don't say, 'I wasn't made to cook, I guess'. That's what +I wanst heard a silly say when she'd burnt the dinner. But jist +understand that your wits must have been off a piece, and kape 'em by +you nixt toime. But what's that n'ise?" + +She stepped to the door. A short distance off Jim was trying to get +something away from Barney, who was making up in roars what he lacked in +strength. Up went Mrs. O'Callaghan's hands to curve around her mouth and +form a speaking trumpet. + +"Jim, come here!" she called. + +Jim began to obey, and his mother, leaving Mike inside to think over her +remarks on cooking, stood waiting for his lagging feet. + +"Well, Jim," she said when he stood before her, "it's ashamed of you I +am, and that's the truth. A big b'y loike you, noine years old, +a-snatchin' something from little Barney and him only sivin! It's my +belafe your father niver snatched nothin' from nobody." + +At this Jim's countenance fell, for, in common with all his brothers, he +shared a strong desire to be like his father. + +"You may go now, but remember you'll be takin' Andy's place some day, +a-carin' for the little wans." + +The idea of taking Andy's place, even at so indefinite a period as +sometime, quite took the edge off his mother's rebuke, and Jim went +stepping off with great importance. + +"Jim!" she called again, and the boy came back. + +"That's a terrible swagger you've got on you, Jim. Walk natural. Your +father was niver wan of the swaggerin' sort. And jist remember that +takin' care of the little b'ys ain't lordin' it over 'em nayther." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +"If I'm goin', I may as well go," thought Pat as he left his mother's +door on that mid-April Saturday morning. And away he went on the +railroad track at a rapid pace that did not give him much time to think. + +It was the General himself who answered his knock that had a strange +mixture of the bold and the timid. The General had been listening for +that knock. He had been wondering what sort of a boy it was who was +willing to go out by the day to do housework. The knock, told him. "He +hates to come, but he comes, nevertheless," thought the General. And he +arose and opened the door. + +He looked into the boy's face and he saw a determined mouth and pleading +eyes. + +"Grit," thought the General. But he only said, "Come in, my boy." + +"Yes, sir, if you please, sir, will you be tellin' Mrs. General Brady +that I'm here, sir?" was Pat's answer as, with flushing cheeks, he +stepped awkwardly into the room. What a fine soldierly bearing the +General had, and how he must despise a boy who could turn himself into a +girl! + +"Sit down, Pat," said the General pleasantly. "That's your name, isn't +it? I'll tell Mrs. Brady presently." + +Pat sat down. He could not imagine the General with an apron on doing +housework, though that was what he was trying to do while he sat there +with cheeks that grew redder and more red. + +"Mrs. Brady tells me you are excellent help, Pat," went on the General. + +"Yes, sir," stammered Pat. + +"Have you come to stay, or just for the day?" + +The boy's eyes were almost beseeching as he answered, "I've come to +stay, sir." What would the General think of him now? + +"I suppose you like housework, then?" + +"No, sir," came the answer in a low tone. "But father's gone, and +there's mother and the boys and there's no work for boys in Wennott +unless they turn themselves into girls." + +"Better turn into a girl than into a tough from loafing on the streets, +Pat," said the General heartily, as he rose from his chair. "I'll tell +Mrs. Brady you are here." + +There was not so much in what the genial master of the house had said, +but Pat's head lifted a little. Perhaps the General did not despise him +after all. + +"I've good news for you, Fannie," said the General as he entered the +dining-room. "Your boy has come, and come to stay." + +"Oh, has he? I'm so glad." And she smiled her pleasure. "He's such a +nice boy." + +"He's a brave boy," said her husband with emphasis. "That boy has the +grit of a hero. He may come into our kitchen for a time, but, please +God, he shan't stay there. I know what he will have to take from those +street boys for doing the best he can for his mother and younger +brothers and he knows it, too. I saw it in his face just now. The boy +that has the moral courage to face insult and abuse deserves to rise, +and he shall rise. But, bless me! I'm getting rather excited over it, I +see." And he smiled. + +[Illustration: "'I've good news for you, Fannie,' said the General."] + +"Perhaps, Tom, you could shield him a little in the street," suggested +Mrs. Brady. + +"I'll do my best, my dear." And then the General went away to his bank, +and Mrs. Brady went into the kitchen to see Pat. + +Pat was sensitive. There was something in the General's manner as he +left him, something in Mrs. Brady's tones as she directed him, that +restored his self-respect. + +"If only I never had to be goin' on the street till after dark, +'twouldn't be so bad," thought Pat. "But there's school, and there's Jim +Barrows. I'll just have to stand it, that's what I will. Mother says I'm +brave, but it's not very brave inside I'm feelin'. I'd run if I could." + +But Pat was to learn some day, and learn it from the General's lips, +that the very bravest men have been men who wanted to run and +_wouldn't_. + +At General Brady's there was light lunch at noon and dinner at five, +which was something Pat had already become accustomed to from having to +do his own family cooking for the last six weeks. He was pretty well +used to hurrying home the moment the afternoon session of school was +over to prepare the meal of the day for his hungry brothers and his +tired mother. On Monday, therefore, he came flying into the Brady +kitchen at fifteen minutes of five. There was the dinner cooking, with +no one to watch it. Where was Mrs. Brady? Pat did not stop to inquire. +His own experience told him that that dinner needed immediate attention. + +Down went his books. He flew to wash his hands and put on his apron. He +turned the water off the potatoes in a jiffy. "Sure and I just saved +'em, and that's all!" he cried, as he put them to steam dry. + +"I'll peep in the oven, so I will," he said. "That roast needs bastin', +so it does." + +He heard the General come in. + +"There's a puddin' in the warm oven," he continued, "but I don't know +nothin' about that. It's long since we've had puddin' at home. I'll just +dress the potatoes and whip 'em up light. I can do that anyway, and give +the roast another baste. It's done, and I'll be settin' it in the warm +oven along with the puddin'. For how do I know how Mrs. Brady wants her +gravy? Where is she, I wonder?" + +"Why, Pat," said a surprised voice, "can you cook?" + +"Not much, ma'am," answered Pat with a blush. "But I can sometimes keep +other people's cookin' from spoilin'." + +"Well said!" cried the General, who was determined to make Pat feel at +ease. "Fannie, give me an apron, and I'll make the gravy. I used to be a +famous hand at it in the army." + +Pat stared, and then such a happy look came into his eyes that the +General felt a little moisture in his own. + +"How that boy has been suffering!" he said to himself. + +"I was detained by a caller," explained Mrs. Brady. "The dinner would +surely have been spoiled if Pat had not come just when he did." + +And then Pat's cup was full. He blushed, he beamed. Here was the +General, the man whom his mother had held up to Pat's admiration, with +an apron on, cooking! And Mrs. Brady said that he had saved the dinner. + +"Let Jim Barrows say what he likes," he thought. "I'd not like to be +eatin' any of his cookin'." + +Cooking had risen in Pat's estimation. + +"She asked me, 'Will you please not be nickin' or crackin' the dishes, +Pat?' And says I, 'I'll be careful, Mrs. Brady.' But I wonder what makes +'em have these thin sort of dishes. I never seen none like 'em nowhere +else." + +Dinner was over and Pat was alone in the kitchen. + +[Illustration: The General makes the gravy.] + +"But the General makin' the gravy was fine, and sure I never tasted no +better gravy neither. I wish I could just be lettin' 'em know at home. +Mike will have to be turnin' into a girl, too, one of these days, and it +might ease him a bit if he could know the General wasn't above cookin'. +My mother said I'd be comin' to visit 'em when my work was done, if Mrs. +Brady could spare me." + +A half-hour later a trim-looking boy presented himself at the +sitting-room door. + +"Come in, Pat," invited the General, looking up from his paper with a +smile. + +Pat smiled back again, but it was to Mrs. Brady that he turned as he +entered the room. + +"Mrs. Brady, ma'am," he said, "the dishes are done and the kitchen made +neat. Will you have me to be doin' something more for you this evenin'?" + +"No, Pat," replied Mrs. Brady kindly. "Your work, for to-day, is done. +You may take off your apron." + +"Yes, ma'am. Would you kindly be lettin' me go home a little while +then?" + +Pat's look was eager but submissive. + +"Certainly, Pat," was the reply. "Take the kitchen key with you." + +"Thank you, kindly, ma'am," returned Pat gratefully. And with another +smile for the General, who had not resumed his reading, the boy left the +room, and, shortly after, the house. + +"Listen!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan, with uplifted ringer. And the +rollicking talk about her ceased on the instant. + +"'Tis Pat's step I hear outside, and here he is, sure enough. Now, b'ys, +don't all of you be on him at wanst. Let him sit down in the father's +chair." + +Pat, feeling the honor paid him, and showing that he felt it, sat down. +The little boys crowded around him with their news. Jim and Andy got as +near to him as they could for furniture, while Mike looked at him from +the farther side of the tiny room with a heart full of love and +admiration in his eyes. They had not seen Pat since Saturday morning +except at school that day, and that was not like having him at home with +them. + +"And how does your work come on?" asked his mother as soon as she could +get in a word. + +"Fine," said Pat. "'Tis an elegant place." Then, with an air that tried +hard to be natural, he added, "The General himself made the gravy +to-day." + +"What!" exclaimed his mother. "The Gineral!" + +"He did," said Pat. "He put on one of Mrs. Brady's aprons, and 'twas +fine gravy, too." + +The widow looked her astonishment. "And do you call that foine?" she +demanded at last. "The Gineral havin' to make his own gravy? What was +you a-doin', Pat?" + +"I was helpin' Mrs. Brady with the puddin' sauce and dishin' up. 'Twas +behind we all was, owin' to a caller, and Mrs. Brady said if it hadn't +been for me the dinner would have been spoiled sure. I got there just in +time." + +"The Gineral," said Mrs. O'Callaghan, looking about her impressively, +"is the handsomest and the foinest gintleman in the town. Iverybody says +so. And the Gineral ain't above puttin' an apron on him and makin' +gravy. Let that be a lesson to you all. The war's over. You'll none of +you iver be ginerals. But you can all make gravy, so you can." + +"When, mother, when?" asked Barney and Tommie eagerly, who saw at once +that gravy would be a great improvement on mud pies, their only culinary +accomplishment at present. + +"When?" repeated the widow. "All in good toime, to be sure. Pat will be +givin' Moike the Gineral's receipt, and the b'y that steps into Moike's +place--and that'll be Andy, I'm thinkin'--he'll larn it of Moike, and so +on, do you see?" + +"And I was just thinkin'," put in Pat, with an encouraging glance at +Mike, "that Jim Barrows's cookin' was like to be poor eatin'." + +"True for you, my b'y!" exclaimed the widow. "The idea of that Jim +Barrows a-cookin' niver struck me before. But, as you say, no doubt +'twould be poor. Them that's not above nignaggin' the unfortunate is apt +to be thinkin' themsilves above cookin', and if they tried it wanst, no +doubt their gravy would be a mixture of hot water and scorch, with, like +enough, too little salt in it if it didn't have too much, and full of +lumps besides. 'Tis your brave foightin' men and iligant gintlemen loike +the Gineral that makes the good gravy." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"Pat, I forgot to give Mr. Brady the list of things that I want sent up +this morning." + +Pat looked up from his dishwashing sympathetically, for there was +perplexity in the kindly tone and on the face no longer young. + +It was always a mystery to the boy why Mrs. Brady called her husband +"Mr. Brady" when everybody else said General Brady. + +"But it's none of my business, of course," he told himself. + +It was Saturday morning. + +"Do you think you could go down, Pat, when the dishes are finished?" + +"Indeed, and I can that, ma'am," returned Pat heartily. + +"Do so, then," was the reply. And Mrs. Brady walked away with a relieved +air. + +"I'm ready, ma'am," announced Pat, coming to the sitting-room door a +little later. "Will you be havin' me to take the list to General Brady, +or will you be havin' me to be doin' the buyin' myself?" + +Mrs. Brady thought a moment. Her husband very much disliked marketing. +If Pat should prove as capable in that direction as in every other, the +General would be saved what was to him a disagreeable task. She resolved +to try him. So she said, "You may do the buying yourself, Pat." + +"Thank you kindly, ma'am," answered Pat respectfully. + +"Do you like to buy things?" asked Mrs. Brady, surprised at the +expression of anticipated pleasure on the boy's face. + +"I don't like nothin' better, ma'am. 'Twas but a taste I'd got of it +before I left home. Mike does our buyin' now. Buyin's next best to +sellin', we both think." + +He took the list Mrs. Brady held out and ran his eye over it. "I'll be +takin' my basket and bring the little things home myself", he said. +"Would you believe it, ma'am, some of them delivery boys is snoopy, I've +been told. Not all of 'em, of course, but some of 'em just. Now raisins, +you've got here. Raisins is mighty good, but let 'em buy their own,' +says I. And don't you be doin' nothin' but restin', ma'am, while I'm +gone. If I'm off enjoyin' myself 'tain't fair as you should be up here +a-workin'. There's not much to be done anyway, but I'll get through with +it," he ended with a smile. + +Away went Pat, stepping jauntily with his basket on his arm. It was the +first of June, and Wennott, embowered in trees, was beautiful. He had +almost reached the square before he thought, "She never told me where to +go. I can't be wastin' my time goin' back. I'll just step into the bank +and ask the General." + +Pat loved the General. A woman's apron was the bond that bound the poor +Irish boy to the fine old soldier, and it was with the smile that the +boy kept exclusively for him that he stepped in at the open door of the +bank. + +The General was engaged, but he found time to answer the smile and to +say in his most genial tone, "In a moment, Pat." + +He was soon at liberty, and then he said, "Now, Pat, what is it?" + +"Please, sir, have you any one place where you want me to be tradin', or +am I to buy where the goods suit me?" + +"Are you doing the marketing to-day, Pat?" + +"Yes, sir. Mrs. Brady give me leave." + +"And what is your own idea about trading?" + +"Buy where you can do the best for the money, sir," was the prompt +reply. + +The banker looked at him thoughtfully. He had the key to Pat's future +now. He knew along what line to push him, for he was determined to push +Pat. And then he said, "Buy where you think best. But did Mrs. Brady +give you money?" + +"She did, sir. This creditin' is poor business. Show 'em your money, and +they'll do better by you every time." + +The General listened in so interested a manner that Pat added, "It's +because the storemen can get all the creditin' they want to do and more, +too, but them as steps up with the cash, them's the ones they're after." + +"And who taught you this, Pat?" + +"Sure and my mother told me part of it, and part of it I just picked up. +But I'll be goin' now, or Mrs. Brady will think I'm never comin'. She'll +be teachin' me to-day to make a fine puddin' for your dinner." + +The first store Pat went into had already several customers. As he +entered, the clerks saw a tall boy wearing a blouse shirt and cottonade +trousers, and having on his head a broad-brimmed straw hat well set +back. And they seemed not at all interested in him. The basket on his +arm was also against him. "Some greeny that wants a nickel's worth of +beans, I suppose," said one. + +But if the clerks seemed to make little of Pat, Pat, for his part, +regarded them with indifference. The sight of the General making gravy +had changed the boy's whole outlook; and he had come to feel that +whoever concerned himself with Pat O'Callaghan's business was out of his +province. Pat was growing independent. + +Other customers came in and were waited upon out of their turn while Pat +was left unnoticed. + +"That's no way to do business," he thought, "but if they can stand it, I +can." And he looked about him with a critical air. He was not going off +in a huff, and perhaps missing the chance of buying to advantage for the +General. At last a clerk drew near--a smallish, dapper young fellow of +about twenty. + +"I'll be lookin' at raisins," said Pat. + +"How many'll you have?" asked the clerk, stepping down the store on the +inside of the counter, while Pat followed on the outside. + +"I said I'd be lookin' at 'em," answered Pat. "I don't want none of 'em +if they don't suit." + +The clerk glanced at him a little sharply, and then handed out a sample +bunch of a poor quality. + +Pat did not offer to touch them. + +"They'll not do," he said. "Have you no better ones? I want to see the +best ones you've got." + +"What's the matter with these?" asked the clerk quickly. + +"And how can I tell what's the matter with 'em? They're not the kind for +General Brady, and that you know as well as I." + +At mention of the General's name the clerk pricked up his ears. It would +be greatly to his credit if, through him, their house should catch +General Brady's trade. He became deferential at once. But he might as +well have spared his pains. No one, with Pat as buyer, would be able to +catch or to keep the General's trade. Whoever offered the best for the +money would sell to him. + +The boy had the same experience in every store he entered, as he went +about picking up one article here and another there till all were +checked off his list. + +"There's more'n me thinks the General's a fine man," he thought as he +went home. "There didn't nobody care about sellin' to me, but they was +all after the General's trade, so they was. And now I must hurry, for my +work's a-waitin' for me, and the puddin' to be learnin' besides. Would I +be goin' back to live off my mother now, and her a-washin' to keep me? +Indeed and I wouldn't. The meanest thing a boy can be doin', I believe, +is to be lettin' his mother keep him if he can get a bit of work of any +sort." + +With his mother's shrewd counsel backing him up, and with the General +constantly before him to be admired and imitated, Pat was developing a +manly spirit. When he went to live with Mrs. Brady, he had offered his +mother the dollar a week he was to receive as wages. + +"Sure and I'll not be takin' it, Pat," said the little woman decidedly. + +To-night he had come home again, and this time he had brought three +dollars with him. + +[Illustration: Pat doing the marketing.] + +"I told you I'd not be takin' it, Pat, and I won't nayther." Though the +widow would not touch the coin, she looked lovingly at her son and went +on, "It's ginerous you are, loike your father, but you're helpin' me +enough when you take your board off my hands. You must save your money +to buy clothes for yoursilf, for you need 'em, Pat dear. Mrs. Brady +can't be puttin' up with too badly dressed help. Now don't you be +spakin' yet," she continued, as she saw him about to remonstrate. "It's +a skame of my own I've got that I want to be tellin' you about, for it's +a comfort you are to me, Pat. Many's the mother as can't say that to her +oldest son, and all on account of the son bein' anything but a comfort, +do you see? But I can say it, Pat, and mean it, too. A comfort you are +to me." + +Pat smiled as he listened. + +"Do you know, Pat," pursued his mother earnestly, "as I'm goin' to my +washin' places, I goes and comes different ways whiniver I can, for +what's the use of always goin' the same way loike a horse in a treadmill +when you don't have to? Course, if you have to, that's different. + +"Well, Pat, sure there's an awful lot of cows kept in this town. And +I've found out that most of 'em is put out to pasture in Jansen's +pasture north of the railroad. It runs north most to the cemetery, I'm +told. But what of that when the gate's at this end? You don't have to +drive the cows no further than the gate, Pat, dear. And the gate you +almost passes when you're goin' to Gineral Brady's by the back way up +the track. It's not far from us, by no manes." + +Pat's face expressed surprise. Did his mother want him to drive cows in +addition to his other work? + +"Now all these cows. Pat," continued his mother impressively, "belongs +wan cow at a house. I don't know but wan house where they kapes more, +and their own b'ys does the drivin', and that wouldn't do us no good. +The pay is fifty cents a month for drivin' a cow out in the mornin' and +drivin' it back at night, and them drivin' b'ys runs 'em till the folks, +many of 'em, is wantin' a different koind of b'ys. Now what if I could +get about ten cows, and put Andy and Jim to drive 'em turn about, wan +out and the other back. Wouldn't that be a good thing? Five dollars a +month to put to the sixteen I earn a-washin', and not too hard on the +b'ys, nayther. Don't you think 'twould be a good thing, Pat?" + +"I do, indeed, mother," answered the son approvingly. + +"I knowed you would, and I belave your father would. How is it you come +to be so like him, Pat, dear? The blessed angels know. But you're a +comfort to me. And now will you help me to get the cows? If you could +get a riference, I belave they calls it, from the Gineral, for we're +mostly strangers yet. You can say you know Andy and Jim won't run the +cows." + +The reference was had from the General that very evening, though the old +soldier could not help smiling to himself over it, and the first of the +week found Andy and Jim trudging daily to and from the pasture. + +It was not without something like a spirit of envy that Barney and +Tommie saw Jim and Andy driving the cows. + +"Mother, why can't we be goin', too?" teased Barney, while Tommie stood +by with pouting lips. + +"And what for would you be goin'?" asked the widow. "Most cows don't +loike little b'ys. They knows, does the cows, that little b'ys is best +off somewhere else than tryin' to drive them about sayin,' 'Hi! hi!' and +showin' 'em a stick." + +The two still showing discontent, she continued: "But geese, now, is +different. And who's to be moindin' the geese, if you and Tommie was to +go off after the cows? Sure geese is more your size than cows, I'm +thinkin', and, by the same token, I hear 'em a-squawkin' now. What's the +matter with 'em? Go see. Not that anybody iver knows what's the matter +with a goose," she ended as the little boys chased out of the shanty. +"It's for that they're called geese, I shouldn't wonder." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +There is no whip to ambition like success. Every day the widow thought, +and toiled, and kept her eyes open for chances for her boys. "For, +after all," said she, "twenty-one dollars a month is all too small to +kape six b'ys and mesilf when the winter's a-comin', and 'twon't be +twenty-one then nayther, for cows ain't drove to pasture in winter." + +It was the second son who was listening this time, and the two were +alone in the shanty kitchen. + +"The days is long, and I belave, Moike, you could do something else than +our own housework, with Andy here to look after the little b'ys." + +"Say what it is, mother dear, and I'll do it," cried Mike, who had been +envying Pat his chance to earn. + +"Well, then, to be telling you the truth, Moike, who should be askin' me +if I knowed of a boy to kape his lawn clean this summer but the Gineral. +Says I, 'I do, Gineral Brady. I'll be bold to say my Moike will do it.' +So there I've promised for you, Moike, and you're to have a dollar a +month." + +The boy's delight at the prospect shone in his eyes and his mother went +on, "Strong and hearty you are, Moike, and I've been thinkin' what's to +hinder your gettin' other lawns with school out next week and nothin' to +bother you." + +The little woman looked tired and warm. She was just home from +Thursday's wash, and she sat down wearily on one of the wooden chairs. +Mike saw it, and, to the boy who would be fourteen the next day, there +suddenly came a realizing sense of the stay his mother was to the +family. He noted with anxiety the lines that were deepening on her face. +"Sit in father's chair, mother dear," he coaxed. "'Twill rest you more." + +The widow looked at him with a pleased expression creeping over her +face. + +"You're father and mother both, so you are. Sit in father's chair," +persuaded Mike. + +"No," she answered, as she rose and went over to the seat of honor. +"Don't praise me too much. I'm jist your mother, doin' the best I can +for you, though." + +And she sat down and leaned her head against the back of the chair. + +The sturdy figure of the boy began to move briskly about. He made up the +fire and then he slipped out at the door and took an observation. No +shade anywhere but at the east end of the shanty, where the building +itself threw a shade. He hurried in again. + +"Will you be gettin' up, mother dear, if you please?" + +In surprise she stood up. The strong, young arms reached past her, +lifted the chair, and then the boy began to pick his way carefully so as +not to strike this treasured possession against anything. + +"What are you doin', Moike?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan in astonishment. + +"I'm takin'--the chair--outside--where--there's a cool shade. 'Tis too +hot--for you here where I'm cookin'." + +He turned and looked back as he stood in the doorway. "Come, mother +dear, and rest you in the cool." + +"Moike! Moike!" cried the widow, touched by this attention. "'Tis what +your father would have done if he was here. Always afraid he was, that I +would be gettin' overtired or something. 'Tis sweet to have his b'y so +loike him." + +Mike's heart gave a great throb. He knew now the taste of that praise +that kept Pat pushing ahead. "'Tis for Pat to lead--he's the oldest," he +thought over his cooking. "But see if I don't be lookin' out for mother +after this, and makin' it as easy for her as I can. I'd lug forty chairs +ten miles, so I would, to have her praise me like that." + +The next morning the widow rose still weary. The kitchen was +uncomfortably warm as a sleeping place now, but what could be done about +it? Nothing. + +"It's all there is, and I won't be sayin' a word about it, so I won't," +she thought. "I'll jist tuck Larry in with Moike, and I guess I can +stand it." + +Wash day for the home. She hardly felt equal to her task. + +Breakfast was over, but what was Mike doing? Not making his beds, nor +washing his dishes. He had put on and filled the boiler. Now he was +carrying out wash bench and tubs to the west side of the shanty. The +west was the shady side of a morning. In he came again--this time for +the father's chair. + +"'Tis an iligant breeze there is this mornin'," he cried. "Come out, +mother, dear, and sit in father's chair. You've got a wash boy this +mornin', so you have, and he'll need a lot of showin'." + +He reached for the washboard as he ceased, and smiled lovingly on his +mother. + +"Moike! Moike!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan in a trembling tone, "'tis sweet +to be took care of. I hain't been took care of since your father died." + +"Then 'tis time you was!" answered Mike. "And I'm the boy to do it, too. +Come out, mother dear." + +And the mother went out. + +"But there's your housework, Moike." + +"That can wait," was the positive reply. + +"But there's your schoolin'." + +"I'm not goin' to school to-day. I know my lessons. I learnt 'em last +night. Will I be goin' to school and sittin' there all day, and you all +tired out a-washin' for us? I won't that." + +"Moike, 'twas your father was dreadful headstrong when he set out to be. +It's fearin' I am you're loike him there." + +But the happy light in her eyes was reflected on the face of her son as +he answered: "It's wantin' I am to be like him in everything, headstrong +and all. I'm not goin' to school to-day." + +"And you needn't, Moike. I'll be ownin' to you now I didn't feel equal +to the washin', and that's the truth." + +Mike nodded and went gayly into the house for warm water and the +clothes. + +"There's more than one kind of a boy needed in a house," he said to +himself. "With seven of us mother ought to have 'em of all kinds. I'm +the one to be aisin' her. I'm built for it." And he rolled up his shirt +sleeves over his strong, muscular young arms. + +"Now be careful," began Mike's first lesson in washing, "and don't waste +the soap and your strength a-tryin' to get the dirt out of the places +that ain't dirty. Rub where the rubbin's needed, and put the soap where +it's wanted. That's it. You're comin' on foine." And the widow resumed +her seat. + +For a few moments she sat silent in thought. Then she said: "Do you know +what's the matter with this town, Moike? All the b'ys in it that wants +to work at all wants to do somethin' aisy, loike drivin' a delivery +wagon. Though the way they drive 'em ain't so aisy on the horses, +nayther. There's a lesson for you, Moike. Them that's so aisy on +themsilves is the very wans to be hard on iverything and iverybody. Them +that's got snail's feet of their own can't get a horse to go fast enough +for 'em, specially when the horse belongs to somebody else. And I'm jist +a-gettin' my courage up, Moike. I belave there'll be always something +for my b'ys to do, because my b'ys will _work_. And if they can't +get b'ys' work they'll do girls' work. Betwane you and me, Moike, I'm +proud of Pat. Have you heard the news? When school closes he's to have +two dollars a week, and three afternoons out all summer. And what do you +think Mrs. Brady says? She says she hain't had such help since she lived +in the East. She says she's restin', and she feels ten years younger. +That's your brother's work, Moike,--makin' a lady like Mrs. Gineral +Brady feel ten years younger. If there's aught to be ashamed of in that, +sure 'twould take a ninny to find out what it is. I'll warrant them +delivery b'ys' horses ain't feelin' ten years younger, anyway." + +Mike's face showed that he relished his mother's talk; seeing which, she +went on: "You're doin' foine, Moike. Do you know there was a girl wanst +set to washin', and she had it in her moind to do a good job, too. The +first thing she got hold of was a pillow case with lace on the ind of +it--wide lace. And what does she do but lather that clean lace with soap +and put in her best licks on it, and all to no purpose at all only to +wear the lace to strings, and then, don't you think, she quite skipped +the body of the case where the head had been a-layin'." + +Mike laughed. + +That night as the widow and her boys sat outside the door in the cool, +quick steps came down the track, crunching the slack and cinders that +filled the spaces between the ties. It was Pat who was coming, and his +face was anxious. + +"What ails you, mother dear?" he cried lovingly. + +"Why, nothin', Pat, only I've got some sons that spoils me, so I have, +a-makin' much of me. 'Tis a dreadful complaint, ain't it? But there's +mothers as is not loike to die of it." And she laughed half tearfully. +She had been nearer breaking down that morning than she would admit, and +her nerves were still a little unsteady. + +"Andy told me at recess Mike was stayin' home to wash, and I didn't know +what to think. I've been worryin' about it ever since, and the minute my +work was done I come a-flyin' to see." + +"You needn't worry no more, Pat. Sure, and I thought when the chance +come for you to go to Mrs. Gineral Brady 'twas because the Lord saw our +need. And that was it, no doubt, but there's more to it, Pat. You went +that I might foind out what koind of a b'y Moike is. You moind what I +told you about permotions, Pat? 'Twas your steppin' up that give Moike +his chance to show what he could do. And Moike was ready for it. Chances +don't do nobody no good that ain't ready for 'em. Andy there is +a-watchin', I know." + +The frail little fellow smiled. There was some light on the group, +thrown from the electric light tower, but not enough to show the +wistfulness of the boy's face, and the widow burned no oil in summer. +Privately, Andy was afraid chances would not do him much good. + +"Why," continued the widow, "even the little b'ys, Barney and Tommie, +was a-watchin' the other day for chances. 'Twas them that wanted to be +takin' the job of drivin' the cows from Andy and Jim, and leavin' their +geese to do it, too. There's big b'ys, I'm thinkin', that's after cows +when geese would be better suited to 'em." + +Barney and Tommie were drowsing, but Jim blushed. He knew that reproof +was meant for him. Mrs. O'Callaghan had been thinking about her fourth +son to-day in the unaccustomed leisure given her by Mike. + +"How it is I don't know," she mused, "but he do have a wonderful knack +at rilin' up the little b'ys, and he'd iver be doin' somethin' he can't +do at all. I'll be lookin' into Jim's case. There shan't wan of Tim's +b'ys be sp'iled if I can help it." + +"It's time you was goin', ain't it, Pat?" suggested Mike. + +At this breach of hospitality the widow was astounded. Mike to speak +like that! + +For a second Pat seemed hurt. "I could have stayed half an hour longer, +but I'll go," he said, rising. + +"And I'll go with you a ways!" exclaimed Mike, jumping up very promptly. + +Pat's farewells were said and the two were off before Mrs. O'Callaghan +had recovered herself enough to remonstrate. + +"I wanted to be talkin' to you, Pat, and I didn't want mother to hear. +That kitchen's too hot for her to sleep in, and that's the truth." + +"But there ain't no other place," answered Pat anxiously. + +"No," returned Mike triumphantly. "There ain't no other place for mother +to sleep, but there is a place we could put the stove, and that's +outside." + +"What in?" inquired Pat gloomily. + +"What in? In nothin', of course. There's nothin' there. But couldn't we +stick in four poles and put old boards across so's the stove would be +covered, and run the pipe out of a hole in the top?" + +"We might," returned Pat, "but you'll have to make up your mind to get +wet a-cookin' more days than one. All the rains don't come straight +down. There's them that drives under. And you'd have to be carrying the +things in through the wet when you got 'em cooked, too." + +"And what of that?" asked Mike. "Do you think I care for that? What's me +gettin' wet to makin' mother comfortable? There's July and August comin' +yet, and June only begun." + +Pat looked at his brother admiringly, though the semi-darkness did not +permit his expression to be seen. + +"We'll do it!" said he. "I'll help you dig the holes for the posts and +all. We'll begin to-morrow evenin'. I know Mrs. Brady will let me come +when my work's done." + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The next morning Pat went about with a preoccupied air. But all his work +was done with his accustomed dispatch and skill, nevertheless. + +"What is on my boy's mind?" thought Mrs. Brady. Yes, that is what she +thought--"_my_ boy." + +And just then Pat looked into the sitting-room with his basket on his +arm. "I'll just be doin' the marketin' now, ma'am," he said. + +"Very well," smiled Mrs. Brady. "Here's a rose for your buttonhole. You +look very trim this morning." + +Pat blushed with pleasure, and, advancing, took the flower. The poor +Irish boy had instinctively dainty tastes, and the love of flowers was +one of them. But even before the blossom was made fast, the preoccupied +look returned. + +"Mrs. Brady, ma'am, would you care if I stopped at the lumber yard while +I'm down town? I'd like to be gettin' some of their cheapest lumber sent +home this afternoon." + +"Why, no, Pat. Stop, of course." + +Pat was encouraged. "I know I was out last night," he said. "But could I +be goin' again this evenin' after my work's done? Mike's got a job on +hand that I want to help him at." + +"Yes, Pat." + +"You see, ma'am," said the boy gratefully, "we're goin' to rig up +something to put the cook-stove in so as mother will be cooler. It's too +hot for her sleepin' in the kitchen." + +Mrs. Brady looked thoughtful. Then she said: "You are such a good, +dutiful boy to me, Pat, that I think I must reconsider my permission. +Lunch is prepared. You may go home as soon as you have finished your +marketing and help Mike till it is time to get dinner. We will have +something simple, so you need not be back until four this afternoon, and +you may go again this evening to finish what remains to be done." + +"Mrs. Brady, ma'am," cried Pat from his heart, "you're next to the +General, that's what you are, and I thank you." + +Mrs. Brady smiled. She knew the boy's love for her husband, and she +understood that to stand next to the General in Pat's estimation was to +be elevated to a pinnacle. "Thank you, Pat," she replied. Then she went +on snipping at the choice plants she kept in the house, even in summer, +and Pat, proudly wearing his rose, hurried off. + +But when Pat arrived at home and hastened out behind the shanty, the +post-holes were dug. Mike had risen at three o'clock that morning, dug +each one and covered it with a bit of board before his mother was up. + +"And have you come to say you can't come this evenin'?" asked Mike, as +Pat advanced to where he was sorting over such old scraps of boards as +he had been permitted to pick up and carry home. + +"I've come to get to work this minute," replied Pat, throwing off his +blouse and hanging it on the sill of the open window, with the rose +uppermost. + +"Where'd you get that rose?" inquired Mike, bending to inhale its +fragrance. + +"Mrs. Brady give it to me." + +"Mother would think it was pretty," with a glance at his older brother. + +"And she shall have it," said Pat. "But them boards won't do. I've +bought some cheap ones at the lumber yard, and they're on the way. And +here's the nails. We'll get that stove out this day, I'm thinkin'. I +couldn't sleep in my bed last night for thinkin' of mother roastin' by +it." + +"Nor I, neither," said Mike. + +"Well, let's get to diggin' the holes." + +"They're dug." + +"When did you dig 'em?" + +"Before day." + +"Does mother know?" + +"Never a word." + +Pat went from corner to corner and peered critically down into each +hole. + +"You're the boy, Mike, and that's a fact," was his approving sentence. + +Just then the boards came and were thrown off with a great clatter. Mrs. +O'Callaghan hurried to the door. "Now, b'ys, what's the meanin' of +this?" she questioned when the man had gone. + +"Have my rose, mother dear," said Pat. + +"And it's a pretty rose, so it is," responded Mrs. O'Callaghan, +receiving it graciously. "But it don't answer my question. What'll you +be doin' with them boords?" + +"Now, mother, it's Mike's plan, but I'm into it, too, and we want to +surprise you. Can't you trust us?" + +"I can," was the answer. "Go on with your surprise." And she went back +into the shanty. + +Then the boys set to work in earnest. Four scantlings had come with the +boards, and were speedily planted firmly. + +[Illustration: Pat and Mike building the kitchen.] + +"We don't need no saw, for the boards are of the right length, so they +are. A man at the yard sawed 'em for me. He said he could as well as +not. Folks are mighty good to us, Mike; have you noticed?" + +"The right sort are good to us, of course. Them Jim Barrows boys are +anything but good. They sets on all of us as much as they dares." + +By three o'clock the roof was on, and the rough scraps Mike had +collected were patched into a sort of protection for a part of the east +side of the new kitchen. + +"Now let's be after the stove!" cried Mike. + +In they went, very important. + +"Mother, dear, we'd like to be takin' down your stove, if you'll let +us," said Pat. + +The widow smiled. "I lets you," she answered. + +Down came the stovepipe to be carried out. Then the lids and the doors +were taken off to make the heavy load lighter. And then under went the +truck that Andy had run to borrow, and the stove was out. + +Mrs. O'Callaghan carefully refrained from looking at them, but cheerful +sounds came in through doors and windows as the big boys worked and the +little ones crowded close with eager enjoyment of the unusual happening. +Presently there came tones of dismay. + +"Pat," said Mike, "there's no hole to run the pipe through. What'll we +do?" + +"We'll have to be cuttin' one, and with a jackknife, too, for we've +nothin' else. But I'll have to be goin' now. I was to be back by four, +you know." + +"Then we'll call the mother out and show her the surprise now," said +Mike. "I'll make short work of cuttin' that hole after you're gone." + +"Will you be steppin' out, mother dear?" invited Mike gallantly. + +"You'll not be roastin' by the stove no more this summer," observed Pat. + +The widow came out. She looked at the rough roof supported by the four +scantlings, and then at her boys. + +"Sure, 'tis a nice, airy kitchen, so it is," she said. "And as for the +surprise, 'tis jist the koind of a wan your father was always thinkin' +up. As you say, I'll not be roastin' no more. But it's awful warm you've +made my heart, b'ys. It's a warm heart that's good to have summer and +winter." And then she broke down. "Niver do you moind me, b'ys," she +went on after a moment. "'Tis this sort of tears that makes a mother's +loife long, so 'tis." + +"Well, Mrs. Brady, ma'am, we're done," reported Pat at a few minutes +before four. "Mike, he'd got up and dug all the holes before day, and it +didn't take us so long." + +"And is the stove out?" inquired Mrs. Brady kindly. + +"It is, ma'am. Mike will be cookin' out there this evenin'. Mike's +gettin' to be the cook, ma'am. I show him all I learn here, and he soon +has it better than I have myself." + +Mrs. Brady smiled. How Mike could do better than Pat she did not see, +but she could see the brotherly spirit that made Pat believe it. + +"Perhaps you had better go over again this evening," she said, "just to +see if the stove draws well in the new kitchen." + +"Do you mean it, ma'am?" asked the boy eagerly. + +"Yes." + +"Thank you, kindly. I'd like to go, but I wasn't goin' to ask. My mother +says askin's a bad habit. Them that has it is apt to ask more than +they'd ought to many times." + +Meanwhile, up on the roof of the new kitchen in the hot afternoon sun +sat Mike with his knife. He had marked out the size of the pipe-hole +with a pencil, and with set lips was putting all the force of his +strong, young arms into the work. A big straw hat was on his head--a +common straw, worth about fifteen cents. Clustered below were the little +boys. + +"No, you can't come up," Mike had just said in answer to their +entreaties. "The roof won't bear you." + +"'Twould bear me, and I could help you cut the hole," said Jim. + +"There goes Jim again," soliloquized the widow. "Wantin' to cut a round +hole in a boord with a knife, when 'tis only himself he'd be cuttin', +and not the boord at all. It's not so much that he's iver for doin' what +he can't, but he's awful set against doin' what he can. Jim, come here!" +she called. + +Jim obeyed. + +"You see how loike your father Pat and Moike and Andy is, some wan way +and some another. Do you want to be loike him, too?" + +[Illustration: "Up on the roof sat Mike with his knife."] + +Jim owned that he did. + +"Well, then, remimber your father would niver have been for climbin' to +the roof of the new kitchen and cuttin' a round hole in a boord with a +knife so as to run the pipe through when he was your soize. But he would +have been for huntin' up some dry kindlin' to start the fire for supper. +So, now, there's your job, Jim, and do it good. Don't come back with a +skimpin' bit that won't start the coal at all." + +With lagging steps Jim set off to the patch of hazel brush north of the +shanty to pick up such dry twigs as he could. His mother gazed after +him. + +"Tim left me a fortune when he left me my b'ys, all but Jim," she said, +"and see if I don't make something out of him, too. Pat and Moike and +Andy--showin' that you sense what they're doin' is enough for 'em. Jist +that will kape 'em goin' foine. But Jim, he'll take leadin' with praise +and shovin' with blame, and he'll get both of 'em from me, so he will. +For sure, he's Tim's b'y, too, and will I be leavin' him to spoil for +want of a harsh word now and then? I won't that. There's them in this +world that needs settin' up and there's them that needs takin' down a +peg. And wanst in a while you see wan that needs both of 'em, and that's +Jim, so 'tis. Well, I know it in toime, that's wan thing." + +Jim made such slow progress that the hole was cut, the pipe run through, +and Mike was beginning to look about for his own kindling when he made +his appearance. + +"Well, Jim," said his mother, taking him aside, "there's something the +matter with your feet, I'm thinkin', you've been gone so long. You was +all but missin' the chance of seein' the first fire started in the new +kitchen. There's something to remimber--seein' a sight loike that--and +then you have it to think about that it was yoursilf that provided the +kindlin' for it. All this you was on the p'int of losin' through bein' +slow on your feet. Your father was the spriest koind of a b'y, I'm told. +Only show him an errand, and he was off on it. Get some spryness into +your feet if you want to be like your father, and run, now, to see Moike +loight the fire. And don't be reachin' to take the match out of his +hand, nayther. Your toime of fire buildin' will come." + +Away went Jim. He was certainly spry enough now. Mike was just setting +the blazing match to the kindling when he reached the group around the +stove. At the front stood the little boys, and in a twinkling Jim had +pushed them one this way, one that, in order to stand directly in front +of the stove himself. + +"There he goes again," sighed the widow. "'Tis a many pegs Jim will have +to be took down, I'm thinkin'." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +It was the last day of August that Pat went walking down to do his +marketing with a jubilant air. Next week school was to begin, and with +the beginning of the term he had expected to go back to his old wages of +a dollar a week. But that morning Mrs. Brady had told him that he was +still to have two dollars. + +"And me goin' to school?" asked the boy in surprise. + +"Yes, Pat. You have come to be very skillful about the house and you are +worth it." + +"I wasn't thinkin' about gettin' skillful, ma'am, so as to have my wages +raised," was the earnest answer. "I was just thinkin' how to please you +and doin' my best." + +Mrs. Brady was touched. "You have pleased me, Pat, and you have pleased +Mr. Brady, too. We both take a great interest in you." + +"Do you, ma'am? Then that's better than havin' my wages raised, though +it's glad of the raise I am, too, and thank you for it. 'Twill be great +news to be takin' home the next time I go." + +But Pat was to take home greater news than that, though he did not know +it as he went along with all the light-heartedness of his race. The +sight of the tall, slender boy with his basket on his arm had grown +familiar in the streets of Wennott. He was never left waiting in the +stores now, and nothing but the best was ever offered him. Not only did +the grocers know him, but the butchers, the poulterers, and even the dry +goods merchants. For he often matched silks and wools for Mrs. Brady, +and he had been known to buy towels of the common sort. A group of +loafers shrugged their shoulders as he passed them this morning, and +fell to repeating anecdotes of his shrewdness when certain dealers had +tried to sell him poor goods at market prices. + +"There's nobody in this town ever got ahead of him yet on a deal," said +one. "He's so awful honest." + +"Bein' square himself, he won't take nothin' but squareness from nobody, +and while he's lookin' out for his own chances he looks out for the +other fellow's, too. Times and times he's handed back nickels and dimes +when change wasn't made straight," contributed a second. + +"There's two or three store men in town got their eye on him. They don't +like to say nothin', seem' he's cookin' at General Brady's, but if he +ever leaves there, he'll have pick and choice. Yes, sir, pick and +choice," concluded a third. + +At that very moment a dry goods merchant of the west side of the square +was in the bank talking to General Brady. "I might as well speak," Mr. +Farnham had thought. "If I don't get him, somebody else will." What the +loafers had said was true. + +"General," began Mr. Farnham, after the two had exchanged greetings, "I +dislike to interfere with your family arrangements, but I should like to +have Pat in the store this fall. I'll give him fifteen dollars a month." + +The General smiled. "Fifteen dollars is cheap for Pat, Mr. Farnham. He's +no ordinary boy." + +"But that's the regular price paid here for beginners," responded Mr. +Farnham. "And he'll have a great deal to learn." + +"Have you spoken to him yet?" + +"No, I thought I would speak to you first." + +"Well, Mr. Farnham, Mrs. Brady and I some time ago decided that, much as +we should like to keep Pat with us, we would not stand in his way when +his chance came, I think this is his chance. And I don't doubt he'll +come to you." + +After a little further talk between the two General Brady said: "There +is another matter I wish to mention. Mrs. O'Callaghan has set her heart +on having Pat graduate from the public school. He could do so easily in +another year, but with his strong mercantile bent, and taking into +consideration the struggle his mother is obliged to make to keep him +there, I don't think it best. For, while Pat supports himself, he can do +nothing to help at home. I ask you to give him one evening out a week, +Mr. Farnham, and I will direct his reading on that evening. If I can +bring him up and keep him abreast of the times, and prevent him from +getting into mischief, he'll do." + +"I shouldn't think he could accomplish much with one evening a week, +General," objected Mr. Farnham, who did not wish to give Pat a regular +evening out. An occasional evening was enough, he thought. + +"Oh, yes, he can," insisted the General. "The most of his reading he +will do at odd minutes, and that evening will be chiefly a resume and +discussion of what he has gone over during the week." + +"You must take a strong interest in the boy, General." + +"I do. I don't mind telling you privately, Mr. Farnham, that I mean to +push him. Not by charity, which, to the best of my belief, not an +O'Callaghan would take, but by giving him every opportunity in my power +to advance for himself." + +"In other words, you mean to protect the boy's interests, General?" + +"I do. As I said before, fifteen dollars a month is cheap for Pat. I +suppose he is to have, in addition, his one evening a week?" + +"Yes," agreed Mr. Farnham, reluctantly. + +"Thank you," said the General, courteously. + +General Brady had intended to keep his news from Pat until the next +morning, but it would not keep. As the boy, with his spotless apron on, +brought in the dinner and stood ready to wait at table, the old soldier +found the words crowding to the tip end of his tongue. His keen eyes +shone, and he regarded with a most kindly gaze the lad who, to make life +a little easier for his mother, had faced jeers and contempt and had +turned himself into a girl--a kitchen girl. It was not with his usual +smoothness, but quite abruptly, that he began: "Pat, you are to leave +us, it seems." + +Pat so far forgot his manners as to stop and stare blankly at his +employer. + +"Yes, Pat. You are going into Mr. Farnham's store this fall at fifteen +dollars a month." + +If anything could have more endeared him to the General and his wife it +was the way in which Pat received this, to him, important communication. +He looked from one to the other and back again, his face radiant with +delight. The born trader was to have an opportunity to trade. + +And then his expression sobered. "But what will Mrs. Brady be doin' +without me?" he cried. "Sure she's used to me now, and she's not strong, +either." + +"Perhaps Mike would come," suggested Mrs. Brady. + +"He'll be glad to do it, ma'am!" exclaimed Pat, his joy returning. "'Tis +himself that thinks its first the General and then you, just as I do." + +"I hope you may always think so," said Mrs. Brady, smiling. + +"Sure and I will. How could I be thinkin' anything else?" + +And then the meal went on. + +That evening, by permission, Pat went home. He sang, he whistled, he +almost danced down the track. + +"And it's Pat as is the happy b'y this evenin'," said Mrs. O'Callaghan. +"Listen to him singin' and whistlin', first wan and then the other. +Gineral Brady's is the place for any one." + +The family were sitting in the kitchen, for the evening was a trifle +cool. But the windows were open and there was a lamp burning. + +"He's got some good news, I guess," remarked quiet Andy. + +The mother gave him a quick glance. "Andy," she said, "you're the b'y as +is different from all the rest, and a comfort you are, too. 'Tisn't +ivery family has a b'y as can hear good news when it's comin'." + +And then Pat came in. His eyes were ablaze, and his wide mouth wore its +most joyous smile. He looked round upon them all for one second, and +then, in a ringing voice, he cried: "Mother! Oh, mother, it's to Mr. +Farnham's store I'm to go, and I'm to have fifteen dollars a month, and +the General is going to help me with my books, and Mrs. Brady wants Mike +to go to her!" + +It was all out in a breath, and it was such a tremendous piece of news +that it left them all gasping but Larry, who understood not a thing but +that Pat had come, and who stood waiting to be noticed by the big +brother. For a full moment there was neither speech nor motion. Then the +widow looked slowly round upon her sons. Her heart was full of gratitude +to the Bradys, of pride in Pat, of exultation over his good fortune, +and, at the same time, her eyes were brimming with tears. + +"B'ys," she said at last, "I wasn't looking for permotions quite so soon +again. But I belave that where they've come wanst, they're loikely to be +comin' again, if them that's permoted lives up to their chances. Who's +been permoted in Mr. Farnham's store, I can't say. But sure Pat, he +steps up, and Moike steps into the good place Pat has stepped out of, +and gives Andy his chance here at home. There's them that says there's +no chances for anybody any more, but the world's full of chances. It's +nothin' but chances, so 'tis. Sure a body don't want to be jerked from +wan thing to another so quick their head spins, and so chances come +along pretty middlin' slow. But the world's full of 'em. Let Andy wanst +get larned here at home, and you'll be seein' what he'll do. Andy's not +so strong as some, and he'll need help. I'm thinkin' I'll make a team +out of him and Jim." + +"I don't want to be helpin'. I want to be doin' mesilf," objected Jim. + +"And what will you be doin'?" asked the widow. "You're full short for +spreadin' bedclothes, for though nine years makes a b'y plinty big +enough for some things, it laves him a bit small for others. You can't +be cookin' yet, nor sweepin', nor even loightin' fires. But you shall be +doin', since doin's what you want. You shall wipe the dishes, and set +the table, and do the dustin', and get the kindlin', and sure you'll be +tired enough when you've all that done to make you glad you're no older +and no bigger. Your father, when he was noine, would have thought that a +plinty for him, and so it's a plinty for you, as you'll foind. You're +quite young to be permoted that high," went on his mother, seeing a +discontented expression on the little fellow's face. "Only for the big +b'ys gettin' ahead so fast, you wouldn't have no chance at all, and +folks wouldn't think you much bigger than Barney there, so they +wouldn't. B'ys of nine that gets any sort of permotion is doin' foine, +let me tell you. And now's your chance to show Moike that you can kape +the dishes shinin', and niver a speck of dust on anything as well as he +could himsilf." + +Jim straightened himself, and Mike smiled encouragingly upon him. "You +can do it, Jim," he said with a nod. + +And Jim decided then and there that he would do it. + +"I'll be lookin' round when I come to visit you all from Mrs. Brady's, +and I expect to be proud of Jim," added Mike. + +And Jim increased his determination. He wanted to have Mike proud of +him. Very likely Mike would not be proud of the little boys. There was +nothing about them to be proud of. "He shall be proud of me," thought +Jim, and an important look stole over his face. "He'll be tellin' me I'm +the b'y, I shouldn't wonder." + +And now the widow's mind went swiftly back to the General. "Sure, and +it's a wonderful man he is," she cried. "Your father was jist such a +man, barrin' he was Irish and no Gineral at all. 'Twas him that was at +the bottom of your gettin' the place to Mr. Farnham's, a-trustin' you to +do all the buyin' so's folks could see what was in you. It's sorry I am +about the graduation, but the Gineral knows best, so he does." + +[Illustration: "Barney and Tommie a-takin' care of the geese."] + +Then her thought turned to the finances of the family. "And how much is +sixteen and fifteen?" she asked. "Sure, and it's thirty-wan. Thirty-wan +dollars a month for us this winter, and Moike takin' care of himself, to +say nothin' of what Moike has earned with the lawn mower. 'Blessin's on +the man that invented it,' says I, 'and put folks in the notion of +havin' their lawns kept neat, 'cause they could do it cheap.' And +there's what Andy and Jim has made a-drivin' the cows, and Barney and +Tommie a-takin' care of the geese. Wennott's the town for them as can +work. And bad luck to lazy bones anyway. It's thankful I am I've got +none of 'em in my family." + +She paused a moment in reflection. + +"Them geese now is foine. Do you think, Pat, the Gineral and Mrs. Brady +would enjoy eatin' wan of 'em when it's a bit cooler? You knows what +they loikes by this time." + +"I think they would, mother." + +"Then it's the best of the lot they shall have. Bad luck to them that's +always a-takin' and niver wantin' to be givin' back." + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The fall term opened and found Mike the head of the O'Callaghan tribe, +as the brothers had been jeeringly called by the Jim Barrows set. And +Mike was a good head. The sort of boy to impress others with the good +sense of minding their own business. His blue eyes had a determined +look, as he came on the campus the first morning of the new term, that +made his old persecutors think it best to withhold such choice epithets +as "Biddy," "Kitchen Girl," and "Scrub Maid," which they had laid up for +him. For they knew that it was Mike who now did housework at General +Brady's. They had never seen Mike fight. He had always stood back and +let Pat lead. But there was something in his erect and independent +bearing on this autumn morning that made it very evident to the school +bullies that if Mike did not fight it was not because he could not. + +"Them O'Callaghans think they're some since General Brady picked 'em +up," commented Jim Barrows, safely out of Mike's hearing. + +"General Brady had never heard of them when Pat gave you a licking, Jim, +or don't you remember?" asked Bob Farnham, who was passing. + +"Say, Jim," advised a crony, as the two sauntered off together, "we'd +better let them O'Callaghans alone. I don't like the looks of that Mike. +'Twasn't any wonder that Pat licked you, for you're not much on the +fight anyway. But I tell you, I wouldn't like to tackle that Mike +myself. He's one of them pleasant kind that's a regular tiger when you +stir him up." + +"He's been runnin' lawn mowers all summer," observed Jim reflectively. +"I reckon he's got his muscle up. Don't know but we had best leave him +alone." + +"Let me tell you, Jim, 'twon't do just to let him alone. We've got to +let 'em all alone--Andy and Jim and Barney and Tommie--or he'll light +into us same as Pat did into you." + +"Why can't a fellow do just his own fightin'," grumbled Jim Barrows, +"and let the kids look out for themselves?" + +"Some of 'em can, but the O'Callaghans ain't that kind. Touch one, touch +'em all, as you'd ought to know, Jim." + +"Oh, shut up! You needn't be throwin' up that lickin' to me every +minute. I was surprised, I tell you. Astonished, as I might say. I +wasn't lookin' to be pitched into by a low down Irish boy." + +"Oh, wasn't you?" queried his friend ironically. "Well, you keep on +a-hectorin', and you'll be surprised again, or astonished, as you might +say. That's all." + +Jim Barrows had not looked into Mike's +eye for nothing. He knew for himself the +truth of all his companion had been saying, +and from that hour the little boys had +peace. + +That same Monday was the most exciting and important day of his life to +Pat. He saw other clerks lagging along without interest, and he wondered +at them. Hitherto, in all transactions, he had been a buyer. Now he was +to sell. + +Farnham's store was on the west side of the square--a fair-sized +room--but rather dark, and not the best place in the world to display +goods. It was not even the best place in Wennott, the storerooms of both +Wall and Arnold being newer and better fitted. But displaying goods was +not Pat's affair that morning. It was his part to display a clean floor +and well-dusted shelves and counters to the first customer. + +Mr. Farnham came in at the hour when he had usually found his other boy +through with the sweeping and dusting, and Pat was still using the +broom. His employer, seeing the skillful strokes of the broom, wondered. +But he was soon enlightened. Pat was not giving the middle of the floor +a brush out. He was sweeping thoroughly into every corner where a broom +could find entrance. For Pat knew nothing of "brush outs," though he +knew all about clean floors. Every little while he stopped, swept up his +collection into the dust-pan and carried it to a waste box in the back +of the store. Mr. Farnham watched his movements. "He's business," he +commented to himself. "Neither hurry nor lag." + +At last Pat was through. One of the clerks came in, and she stared to +see the shelves still wearing their dust curtains. But Pat was +unconcerned. He had never opened a store before, nor seen one opened. He +had been told to sweep out and dust, and he was obeying orders. That was +all he was thinking about. + +The sweeping done, Pat waited for the little dust that was flying to +settle. Then he walked to the front end of the store and began to unhook +the dust curtains. Very gingerly he took hold of them, being careful to +disturb them as little as possible. Mr. Farnham and the girl clerk +watched him. Every other boy had jerked them down and chucked them under +the counter in a jiffy. Out went Pat with them to the rear door, gave +them a vigorous shaking, brought them back, folded them quickly and +neatly, and then, turning to Mr. Farnham said, "Where will you have 'em, +sir?" + +In silence Mr. Farnham pointed out a place, and then handed him a +feather duster, showing him, at the same time, how to fleck the dust off +the edges of the bolts of goods along the shelves, and also off the +counter. + +"This thing's no good for the glass show cases, sir. I'd ought to have a +soft cloth. Something to take the dust up with, sir." + +The merchant turned to the girl clerk. "Cut him off a square of +cheesecloth, Miss Emlin, please," he said. + +[Illustration: "The merchant turned to the girl clerk."] + +"Ordinary boy!" exclaimed Mr. Farnham to himself and thinking of the +General. "I should say he wasn't. But cleaning up a store and selling +goods are two different things." + +It was a very small place that was given to Pat in the store that +day--just the calicoes, ginghams, and muslins. And Pat was dissatisfied. + +"'Tisn't much of a chance I've got," he murmured to himself. +"Gingham--that's for aprons, and calico--that's for dresses, and +muslin--that's for a lot of things. Maybe I'll sell something. But it +looks as if I'd be doin' nothin', that's what it does." + +He thought of the home folks and how his mother's mind would be ever +upon him during this his first important day. "Maybe I'm a bit like +little Jim--wantin' to do what I can't do. Maybe geese are my size," and +he smiled. "Well, then I'll tend to my geese and tend 'em good, so I +will." + +He began emptying his calico tables upon the counter. Mr. Farnham saw +him from the desk, and walked that way at once. "What's the matter, +Pat?" he inquired. + +"Sure I'm just gettin' acquainted with the goods, sir. I was thinkin' I +could sell better, if I knew what I'd got. I'll put 'em back, sir, when +I've looked 'em over." + +And entirely satisfied with his newest clerk, though Pat did not suspect +it, Mr. Farnham returned to his writing. + +Pat had often noticed and admired the way in which the dry goods clerks +ran off a length of goods, gathered it in folds, and held it up before +the customer. + +"If I thought nobody was lookin', I'd try it, so I would," he said to +himself. + +He glanced around. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention. Pat tried +it, and a funny affair he made of it. Mr. Farnham, who was only +apparently busy, had to exert all his will power to keep back a smile. +For Pat, with the fear of observers before his eyes, unrolled the web +with a softness that was almost sneaking; he held up the length with a +trembling hand and a reddening cheek; and, putting his head on one side, +regarded his imaginary customer with a shamefaced air that was most +amusing. + +Pat seemed to feel that he had made himself ridiculous. He sighed. +"There's too much style to it for me yet," he said. "I'll just have to +sell 'em plain goods without any flourishes. But I'll do it yet, so I +will, only I'll practice it at home." + +"And what did you be sellin' to-day, Pat dear?" asked his mother when at +half-past nine he entered the kitchen door. She would not ask him at +supper time. She wished to hear the sum total of the day's sales at +once, and she had prepared her mind for a long list of articles. + +"Well, mother," answered Pat drawing a long breath, "I sold two yards +and a half of gingham." + +The widow nodded. But Pat did not go on. + +"And what else, Pat dear?" + +"Nothin' else, mother." + +Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished. + +[Illustration: "Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished."] + +"That's little to be sellin' in a whole day," she observed. "Didn't you +sell no silks and velvets and laces?" + +"I'm not to sell them, mother." + +"And why not?" with a mystified air. + +"Sure and I don't know. I've just the calicoes and the ginghams and the +muslins." + +"Ah!" breathed the widow. And she sat silent in thought a while. The +small lamp on the pine table burned brightly, and it lit up Pat's face +so that with every glance his mother cast at him she read there the +discouragement he felt. + +"Pat dear," she began presently, "there's beginnin's in all things. And +the beginnin's is either at the bottom or at wan ind, depindin' which +way you're to go. Roads has their beginnin's at wan ind and runs on, +round corners, maybe, to the other ind. Permotions begin at the bottom. +You moind I was tellin' you 'twas loikely there was permotions in +stores?" + +Pat gazed at his mother eagerly. "Do you think so, mother?" + +"I think so. Else why should they put the last hand in to sweepin' out +and sellin' naught but ginghams and calicoes and muslins? And will you +be tellin' me what the b'y that swept out before you is sellin'?" +continued the little woman, anxious to prove the truth of her opinion. + +"Sure and he ain't sellin' nothin'," responded the son. "He ain't +there." + +"And why not?" interrogated Mrs. O'Callaghan. + +"I'm told he didn't do his work good." + +Mrs. O'Callaghan looked grave. "Well," she said, "there's a lesson for +them that needs it. There's gettin' out of stores as well as gettin' in, +so there is. And now, Pat, cheer up. 'Tis loikely sellin' things is a +business that's got to be larned the same as any other." + +"Well, but, mother, I know every piece I've got, and the price of it." + +"Can you measure 'em off handy and careless loike, so that a body +wonders if you ain't makin' a mistake, and measures 'em over after you +when they gets home, and then foinds it's all roight and trusts you the +nixt toime?" + +Pat was obliged to admit that he could not. + +"And can you tie up a bundle quick and slick and make it look neat?" + +Again Pat had to acknowledge his deficiency. + +His mother regarded him with an air of triumph. "I knowed I could put my +finger on the trouble if I thought about it. You've got it in you to +sell, else Mr. Farnham wouldn't have asked for you. But he wants you for +what you can do after a while more than for what you can do now. +Remimber your beds and your cookin', Pat, and don't be bakin' beans by +your own receipt down there to the store. It's a foine chance you've +got, so 'tis. Maybe you'll be sellin' more to-morrow. And another thing, +do you belave you've got jist as good calicoes and ginghams and muslins +to sell as there is in town?" + +"Yes, mother, I know I have." + +"Then you've got to make the ladies belave it, too. And it won't be such +a hard job, nayther, if you do your best. If they don't like wan thing, +show 'em another. There's them among 'em as is hard to plaze, and +remimber you don't know much about the ladies anyhow, havin' had to do +only with your mother and Mrs. Gineral Brady. And there's different +sorts of ladies, too, so there is, as you'll foind. It's a smart man as +can plaze the half of 'em, but you'll come to it in time, if you try. +Your father had a great knack at plazin' people, so he had, Pat. For +folks mostly loikes them that will take pains for 'em; and your father +was always obligin'. And you are, too, Pat, but kape on at it. Folks +ain't a-goin' to buy nothin', if they can help it, from a clerk that +ain't obligin'. Sellin' goods is pretty much loike doin' housework, +you'll foind, only it's different." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +"Pat," said his mother the next morning at breakfast, "what's that book +you used to be studyin' that larns you to talk roight?" + +"Grammar, mother." + +"Well, then, your studyin' has done you small good, for you talk pretty +much the way I do mysilf, and niver a bit of that book did I be larnin' +in my loife. It don't make a bit of difference what you know, if you +don't go and _do_ what you know. But you're not too old to begin +over again, Pat, and practice talkin' roight. Roight talkin' will help +you in the store. You've got in, and that's only half of it, for you'll +not stay in if you don't do your best. And that's why helpin' a body +don't do so much good after all." + +Pat blushed, and the widow felt a little compassion. She threw increased +confidence into her tone as she went on. "Not as anybody thinks you +won't stay, Pat, for, of course, you'll do your best. But about your +talkin'--you'll need somebody to watch you close, and somebody that +loves you well enough to tell you your mistakes koindly, and Andy's the +b'y to do it. He's the wan among you all that talks roight, for he loves +his book, do you moind." + +And now it was Andy's turn to blush, while the widow smiled upon him. "I +hear a many of them grammar folks talk," she said, "and it's mysilf that +sees you talk jist loike 'em, barrin' the toimes when you don't. And +them's not so many, nayther." + +At this little Jim scowled scornfully, but of him his mother took no +notice as she looked around with pride upon her sons. + +"And it's proud I am to be havin' all sorts of b'ys in my family, +barrin' bad wans," she continued. "I'll jist be tryin' to larn a little +better ways of talkin' mysilf, so I will, not as I think there's much +chance for me, and, as there's no good of waitin' till you get as old as +Pat, Jim, you'll be takin' heed to Andy's talkin'. Andy's the talker as +would have plazed his father, for his father loiked everything done +roight, so he did." + +It was pleasant to see Andy's sensitive face glow with delight at being +thus publicly commended by that potentate of the family, his mother. +Mrs. O'Callaghan saw it. "And did you think I wasn't noticin' because I +didn't say nothin'?" she asked him. + +Then turning to the rest, "B'ys, you mostly niver knows what folks is +a-noticin' by what they says--that is, to your face--but you sometoimes +foinds out by hearin' what they've been sayin' behoind your back. And, +by the same token, it's mostly bad they says behoind your back." + +"I don't want to be larnin' from Andy," interrupted Jim. "He's but two +years older than me anyway." + +The widow eyed him severely. "Well, Jim, is it bigger and older than Pat +you are? Pat's goin' to larn from Andy. And is it older than your mother +you are, that's forty years old? Sure I'm goin' to larn from Andy." + +But Jim still appeared rebellious. + +"Some of these days little Barney and Tommie and Larry will be set to +larn from you. Take care they're not set to larn what not to do from +lookin' at you. 'Tis Andy that's got the gift ne'er a wan of us has, and +he'll show us how to profit by it, if we has sinse. It's thinkin' I am +your father, if he was here, would not have been above touchin' up his +own talkin' a bit under Andy's teachin'. Your father was for larnin' all +he could, no matter who from, old or young." + +Now the widow might have talked long to Jim without affecting him much, +but for one thing. She had said that Andy had a gift that all the rest +lacked. He resolved from that moment that he would talk better than Andy +yet, or know why. + +A pretty big resolve for so young a boy, but Jim could not endure to +yield the supremacy to Andy in anything. Pat and Mike he was content to +look up to, but Andy was too near his own age, and too small and frail +to challenge Jim's respect. + +That morning Jim said little, but his ears were open. Every sentence +that Andy spoke was carefully listened to, but the little fellow went to +school not much enlightened. He could see the difference between his +speech and Andy's, but he could not see what made the difference. And +ask Andy he wouldn't. + +"I'll be askin' the teacher, so I will," he thought. + +That morning at recess, a small, red-headed, belligerent-looking boy, +with a pair of mischievous blue eyes, went up to Miss Slocum's desk. But +the eyes were not mischievous now. They were very earnest as they gazed +up into his teacher's face. + +"Plaze, ma'am, will you be sayin': I'll be larnin' it yet, so I will?" + +Miss Slocum was surprised. "What did you say, Jim?" she asked. + +"Plaze, ma'am, will you say: I'll be larnin' it yet, so I will?" + +Miss Slocum smiled, and obligingly repeated, "I'll be larnin' it yet, so +I will." + +"No," said Jim. "That's the way I said it. Say it right." + +"Say it right!" exclaimed Miss Slocum. + +"Yes, say it like the grammar book." + +"Oh," said Miss Slocum wonderingly. "I _will_ learn it yet. Is that +what you wanted?" + +"Yes, ma'am. Will you be tellin' me some more when I want to know it?" + +"Certainly," responded the gratified teacher, whereat Jim went away +satisfied. He smiled to himself knowingly, as he caught sight of Andy at +a distance on the campus. "I'll not be askin' him nayther," he said. "I +_will_ learn it yet." + +As for Pat, he went to the store that same morning a trifle +disconsolate. He was fond of trade, but he knew almost nothing of dry +goods; and here was his mother counseling him to improve his speech, and +holding up to him the warning that his own inefficiency might lose him +his place. + +"Well, I know how to sweep and dust, anyway," he thought as he unlocked +the store door, went in and took up his broom. As thoroughly as before +he went over everything, but much more quickly, not having the +accumulated shiftlessness of former boys to contend with. And Mr. +Farnham, on his arrival, found everything spotless. + +Customers at Pat's department that day found a very silent clerk, but +one eager to oblige. Many times before he went home for the night did he +display every piece of goods in his charge, and that with such an +evident wish to please, that his sales were considerable. And the widow +heard his report at bedtime with something like satisfaction. + +"And what did you say to make 'em buy?" she inquired. + +"Well, mother, I mostly didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say, +and I couldn't say it right, neither, and so I just watched, and if they +so much as turned their eyes on a piece, I got it out of the pile and +showed it to 'em. I just wished with all my might to sell to 'em, and I +sold to 'em." + +His mother's eyes were fixed on him, and she nodded her head +approvingly. "Sure and if you couldn't do no better, that was good +enough, so 'twas," was her comment. "You'll larn. But didn't nobody say +nothin' to you?" + +"They did, mother, of course." + +"And who was they that spoke to you and what about?" + +"Well, mother, there was old Mrs. Barter, for one. She's awful stingy. +I've seen her more than once in the groceries. Always a-wantin' +everything a little lower, and grumblin' because the quality wasn't +good. Them grocers' clerks mostly hates her, I believe. And they don't +want to wait on her, none of 'em. 'Twas her, I'm told, washed up two or +three of them wooden butter dishes and took 'em up and wanted to sell +'em back to them she got her butter from." + +"Ah!" said Mrs. O'Callaghan, with her eyes sympathetically upon her son. + +"And she was to buy of you to-day, was she?" + +"Yes, mother." + +"And did she buy anything?" + +"She did." + +"What was it?" + +"A calico dress." + +"And how come she to do it?" + +"I don't know. She begun by lookin' everything over and runnin' +everything down. And at last she took hold of a piece, and says she, +'Come, young man, I've seen you a-buyin' more than once. Can you tell me +this is a good piece that won't fade?' 'I can, ma'am,' says I. 'You +won't find no better in town.' + +"'Ah! but you're sellin',' says she. 'Would you tell your mother the +same?' And she looked at me sharp. + +"'I would, ma'am,' says I. + +"'Then I'll take it,' says she. 'I've not watched you for nothin'.'" + +"And then what?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan eagerly. This, in her opinion, +was a triumph for Pat. + +"Why, nothin', mother, only I wrapped it up and give it to her, and I +says, Come again, ma'am,' and she says, 'I will, young man, you may +depend.'" + +The little woman regarded him proudly. But all she said was: "When +you're doin' well, Pat, the thing is to see if you can't do better. You +had others a-buyin' of you to-day, I hope?" + +"Yes, mother." + +"'Tis too late to hear about it to-night, for 'tis good sleep that +sharpens the wits. And the broightest wits will bear that koind of +sharpening', so they will. I wouldn't be knowin' what to do half the +time if it wasn't for sleepin' good of nights. And, by the same token, +if any of them high-steppin' clerks comes around with a cigar and +a-wantin' you to go here and yon of nights, jist remimber that your wits +is your stock in trade, and Mr. Farnham's not wantin' dull wans about +him, nayther." + +Thus having headed off any designs that might be had upon Pat, his +mother went to sharpen her own wits for whatever the morrow might have +in store for her. + +And now a change began to come over Jim. He left his younger brothers in +unhectored peace. He had not much to say, but ever he watched Andy from +the corner of a jealous eye, and listened for him to speak. All his +pugnacity was engaged in what seemed to be a profitless struggle with +the speech of the grammar. "I _will_ larn it yet," he repeated over +and over. And even while the words were in his mouth, if he had had less +obstinacy in his make-up, he would have yielded himself to despair. But +a good thing happened to him. Miss Slocum, not knowing his ignoble +motive, and seeing a very earnest child striving to improve himself, set +about helping him in every possible way. + +One day she called him to her. "Jim," she said, "asking me questions is +slow work. Suppose I correct you every time you make a mistake?" + +"Yes, ma'am," answered Jim vaguely, not knowing the meaning of +_correct_. + +"You don't understand me?" + +"No, ma'am." + +"_Correct_ means to make right. Suppose I set you right whenever +you go wrong?" + +"That's it!" cried Jim enthusiastically. "That's it! I can larn that way +sure." + +"_Learn_, not _larn_, Jim." + +Jim looked at her. "'Tis learn and not larn I'll be sayin'," he +declared. + +"Not _I'll be sayin'_," corrected Miss Slocum, "but _I'll +say_." + +"_Learn_, not _larn_, and _I'll say_, not _I'll be +sayin'_," amended the obedient Jim, and then he sped away. + +And that night he did what never a child of Mrs. O'Callaghan's had done +before. The family were at supper. Pat, paying good heed to his tongue, +was manifestly improving, and the widow was congratulating him in her +own way. + +"What did I be sayin' to you, Pat dear? Did I be tellin' you you wasn't +too old to larn? And I'll be sayin' it again, so I will." + +"_Larn's_ not the right of it," interrupted Jim. "_Learn's_ +what you ought to be sayin'. _I'll be sayin'_ ain't right, +nayther," he continued. "It's _I'll say_," and he looked very +important. + +Pat and Andy regarded him in displeased astonishment, but the widow +could take care of her own. + +"And it's glad I am to see that you know so much, Jim," she said +quietly. "What more do you know? Let's hear it." + +Thus brought to book Jim grew confused. He blushed and stammered under +the unfavorable regard of his mother and two older brothers, and finally +confessed that he knew nothing more. At which Barney and Tommie nudged +each other. They did not understand what all the talk was about, but +they could see that Jim was very red in the face, and not at all at his +ease, and their beforetime hectored little selves rejoiced. + +"B'ys," said the mother, "I told you if your blessed father was here +he'd not be above learning from any one, old or young. And he wouldn't, +nayther. And sure he said _larn_ himsilf. And from Jim here he'd +learn better than that, and he'd learn, too, how them that knows very +little is the quickest to make a show of it. But kape on, Jim. It's glad +I am you know the difference betwane _larn_ and _learn_, and +sure the only difference is that wan's wrong and the other's roight." + +Jim had hoped to quite extinguish Andy by his corrections, and he hardly +knew where he was when his mother finished; and he was still more abroad +when Pat took him out after supper and vigorously informed him that bad +manners were far worse than bad grammar. + +"Well, well," thought the widow that evening as she waited alone for +Pat, "Jim do be gettin' ahead of me, that he do. He's loike to have the +consate, so he is, take him down as a body will. But there's wan good +thing about it. While he's studyin' to beat us all on the talkin' he's +lettin' the little b'ys alone famous. He didn't never do much to 'em, +but he jist riled 'em completely, so he did, and made 'em cross at +iverybody." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +A month went along very quietly and, following that, another month. The +weeds that had flourished along the sides of the ditches were all dead. +No more did the squawking O'Callaghan geese delight themselves among +them. The kitchen stove had long been brought back into the shanty, and +Barney and Tommie, sitting close behind it on their short evenings that +ended in bedtime at half-past seven o'clock, had only the remembrance of +their labors. But that memory sweetened the prospect of savory dinners +to come, for even Barney and Tommie liked to feel that they were of some +importance in the family world. Often had their mother praised them for +their care of the geese, and once she had bought for them a whole +nickel's worth of candy and had bestowed this great treat with the +words, "And how could I be havin' geese only for the little b'ys? You'll +jist be givin' Larry a bit, for sure and he'll be past four nixt summer, +and helpin' you loike anything." + +The candy, like the summer, was only a memory now, but, without putting +their hope into words, there lingered in the minds of the two an +anticipation of more candy to come. + +As for Larry, he lived from day to day and took whatever came his way +cheerfully, which he might well do, since he was a general pet wherever +he was known. + +But now a new difficulty confronted the widow. Snowtime had come. How +was she to get Larry along to her wash places? She was sitting late one +Friday afternoon thinking about it. All day the snow had been falling, +and many times, in the early dusk, had Jim been out to measure the depth +with his legs. And each time he returned he had worn a more gratified +smile. + +"Well, Jim," said his mother finally, "you do be grinnin' foine ivery +toime you come in, and a lot of wet you're bringin' with you, too, +a-stampin' the snow off on the floor. You'll remimber that toimes are +changed. Wanst it was old men as had the rheumatism, but now b'ys can +have it, to say nothin' of colds and sore throats and doctors' bills. +You'll stay in now. The snow can deepen without you, I'm thinkin'." + +Thus admonished, Jim went with a bad grace to wash his hands, and then +to set the table for supper. + +Presently in came Pat. + +"Where's the clothes basket, mother?" he inquired. "I'll be bringing in +the clothes from the line for you." + +Mrs. O'Callaghan handed him the basket with a smile, and out went Mr. +Farnham's newest clerk to the summer kitchen, under whose roof the line +was stretched in parallel lengths. + +"I couldn't be dryin' the clothes in the house with no place to put 'em, +but the new kitchen's the thing, so 'tis," the mother had said. "Clothes +will dry there famous, 'specially when it's rainin' or snowin'. Pat and +Moike did a good thing when they made it. I've heard tell of them as has +dryin' rooms for winter, and 'tis mysilf has wan of 'em." + +These were the words that had caused Pat to smile with pleasure, and had +stirred Mike's heart with determination to do yet more for his mother. +And that same evening the widow's sturdy second son came to the shanty, +and behind him on the snow bumped and slid his newest handiwork--a sled +for Larry to ride on. + +"And what have you got there?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan when he dragged it +into the house. + +"A sled!" cried Barney and Tommie together, pausing on their bedward +way, and opening wide their sleepy eyes. + +"And 'twas mysilf was wonderin' how to get Larry along with me!" +exclaimed the mother when Mike had explained the object of the sled. +"What's the good of me wonderin' when I've got Moike for my b'y? 'Twas +his father as would have made a sled jist loike it, I'm thinkin'. But +Moike," as she saw the light of affection in his eyes, "you'll be +spoilin' me. Soon I'll not be wonderin' any more, but I'll be sayin', +'Moike will fix it some way.'" + +"Will you, mother?" cried the boy. "Will you promise me that?" + +"Moike! Moike!" said the widow, touched by his eager look and tone, +"what a b'y you are for questions! Would I be layin' all my burdens on +you, when it's six brothers you've got? 'Twouldn't be fair to you. But +to know you're so ready and willin' loightens my ivery load, and it's a +comfort you are to me. Your father was always for makin' easy toimes for +other people, and you're loike him, Moike. And now I've something else +to be talkin' of. Will you be havin' the goose for Gineral and Mrs. +Brady to-morrow?" + +"I will, mother," answered Mike respectfully. + +"Then, Moike, when you get ready to go back, you'll foind the foinest +wan of the lot all by himsilf in a box Pat brought from the store. Mr. +Farnham give it to him, though he mostly sells 'em. And I've larned that +goose to slape in it, so I have, and an awful job it was, too. Geese and +pigs now, Moike, are slow to larn. But he knows his place at last, so he +does, and you'll foind him in it." + +Then catching sight, around the corner of the table, of the enraptured +two on the kitchen floor busy over the new family treasure, she cried: +"Now, Barney and Tommie, to bed with you, and dream of havin' the sled +Saturdays, for that's what you shall have. 'Tis Moike makes the treats +for us all." + + * * * * * + +That evening at half-past nine there was a knock on the sitting-room +door. + +"Come!" called the General. + +The door opened and in walked Mike with the sleek goose under his arm. + +"My mother's sending you a goose, Mrs. Brady," he said with a bow. + +The Bradys were already much attached to Mike; and the General had been +heard to say that the very name of O'Callaghan seemed to be a +certificate of worthiness. So the goose was made much of and the next +time Mike went home he carried a bunch of roses from Mrs. Brady. + +"And sure 'tis roses as are the gift of a lady!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan, +receiving the flowers with an air of pride. "There's some as would have +took the goose as their due and have made you feel loike dirt under +their feet while they was takin' it. But the General and Mrs. Brady are +quite another sort. And it's proud I am that they et the goose and found +it good. Though it wouldn't have been good nayther if you hadn't cooked +it good, Moike. There's them as can cook 'most anything and have it +good, jist as there's them as can spoil the best. And now, Moike, I've +news for you. But first do you notice how clean Jim kapes things? Him +and Andy makes a foine team, so they do." + +Mike looked about him with a critical air that increased in mock +severity as he saw little Jim rapidly donning his regalia of importance. +"See a speck of dust if you can," spoke Jim's look. And then Mike was +lavish with his praise. + +"You don't kape Mrs. Brady's things no cleaner, do you, Moike?" + +"I don't, mother, for I can't," was the answer. Hearing which, Jim +became pompous, and the widow judged that she might tell her news +without unduly rousing up his jealousy. + +"Well, then, Moike, you'll niver be guessin' the news, only maybe you've +heard it already, for 'tis school news. Andy's to be set ahead of his +class into the nixt higher wan. It's proud I am, for ivery family needs +a scholar, so it does." + +Mike turned upon Andy a look of affectionate interest. "I hadn't heard +your news, mother, but it's good news, and I'm glad to hear it," he said +heartily. + +"I knowed you would be glad, Moike, for 'tis yoursilf as sees that when +your brother gets up you get up with him. It's bad when wan brother +thinks to be gettin' ahead of all the rest." And she looked gravely at +Jim. "Brothers are made each wan to do his part, and be glad when wan +and another gets up." + +But little Jim appeared discontented. All this praise of Andy quite took +the edge off what he himself had received. His mother sighed. + +"But I'll not give him up yet," she thought after a moment. "No, I'll +not give him up, for he's Tim's b'y, though most unlike him. I do moind +hearin' wanst that Tim had a brother of that sort. Jim's loike him, no +doubt, and he come to a bad end, so he did, a-gettin' to be an agitator, +as they calls 'em. And sure what's an agitator but wan that's sour at +iverybody's good luck but his own, and his own good luck turnin' out bad +on account of laziness and consate? I'm needin' more wisdom than I've +got when I'd be dealin' with Jim." + +While the mother sat silent her sons were talking together in low tones. +Andy and Jim told of the rabbits they had trapped in the hazel brush, +and how they had eaten some and some they had sold in the stores. And +Mike, in his turn, told them how many rabbits there were in the Brady +neighborhood, and how nobody seemed to wish to have them disturbed. + +"What are they good for, if you can't catch 'em?" asked Jim, who could +never catch enough. + +"Good to look pretty hopping about, I guess," responded Mike. + +"Huh!" exclaimed Jim, who, like many a one older than he, had small +respect for opinions that clashed with his own. + +"He'll be turnin' to be an agitator sure, only maybe I can head him +off," thought the mother, who had been idly listening. + +"Jim," she said, "'twas your father as was iver for hearin' both sides +of iverything. If there's them that thinks rabbits looks pretty jumpin' +around, why, no doubt they do. 'Tisn't iverybody that's trappin', you'll +moind. If you was a horse now, you'd be called strong in the mouth, and +you'd need a firm hand on the lines. And if you'd been brung up among +horses, as your father was, you'd know as them obstinate wans as wants +the bits in their teeth are the wans as gets the beatin's. You're no +horse, but things will go crossways to you all your loife if you don't +do different. When there's nayther roight nor wrong in the matter let +iverybody have their own way." + +And then little Jim became downright sulky. + +[Illustration: "Little Jim became downright sulky."] + +"Rabbits is for trappin'," he said stubbornly. + +"Well, well," thought the widow, "I'll have to be waitin' a bit. But +I'll be makin' something out of Jim yet." + +Then she turned to Mike. "And how are you comin' on at the Gineral's?" +she inquired. "It's hopin' I am you're watchin' him close and larnin' to +be loike him." + +"I'm trying, mother," was the modest answer. + +Mrs. O'Callaghan nodded approvingly. "A pattern's a good thing for us +all to go by," she said. "Your father's gone, and you can only be loike +him by heedin' to what I'm tellin' you about him. But the Gineral you +can see for yoursilves. If you can get to be loike your father and the +Gineral both, it's proud I'll be of you. And I will say that you're +a-comin' to it, Moike. + +"And there's another thing. The little b'ys has their chance, too. And +it's because Andy here takes as natural to bein' a gintleman as thim +geese takes to squawkin'. Whether it's loikin' his book or what it is, +he's the wan to have handy for the little b'ys to pattern by. As far as +he's gone he knows, and he can't be beat in knowin' how to treat other +folks nice. And he's that quiet about what he knows that you wouldn't +think he knows anything only for seein' him act it out." + +And now little Jim was completely miserable. Constantly craving praise +was little Jim, and the loss of it was torture to him. The widow glanced +at him out of the corner of her eye. She saw it was time to relieve him. + +"But there's wan thing Jim's got that no other wan of my b'ys has," she +continued. + +Jim pricked up his ears. + +"He's the born foighter, is Jim. If he was big now, and there was a war +to come, he'd be a soldier, I'm thinkin'. He's for foightin' iverything, +even the words of a body's mouth." + +This praise might be equivocal, but little Jim did not so understand it, +and his pride returned. + +His mother observed it. "But what you need, Jim," she went on, "is to be +takin' a tuck in yoursilf. Look at the Gineral. Does he go foightin' in +toimes of peace? That he don't. Will you look at the Gineral, Jim?" + +Now Pat and Mike had been instructed to look at the General as their +pattern. This appeal was placing Jim alongside of his two big brothers. + +"Will you look at the Gineral, Jim?" repeated Mrs. O'Callaghan. + +"I will," said Jim. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Jim was enterprising. Far more enterprising than anybody gave him credit +for. He had been set to copy the General, and that night as he lay down +to sleep he resolved to outdo Pat and Mike. The little boys were +insignificant in his eyes as he thought of what was before him, and even +Andy offered small food for jealousy. To excel the two big boys was +worth trying for. + +Now the General was more familiar to Jim's ears than to his eyes. He at +once resolved to remedy that. + +"I'll have to be followin' him around and be seein' how he does, so I +will," he told himself. "And I'll have to be gettin' my work done quick +to be doin' it." + +Accordingly he hustled through the dishwashing at a great rate the next +morning, for his mother had lately decided that he might wash the dishes +as well as wipe them. The dusting, usually carefully done, was a whisk +here and a wipe there in the most exposed places. By such means did he +obtain a half hour of extra time, and off he went up the railroad track +on his way to General Brady's. He soon came to the point where he must +leave the track for the street, and, the street being comparatively +unused and so without a pavement, he was compelled to wade the snow. +Into it with his short legs he plunged, only anxious to reach the house +before the General started down town. And he was almost out of breath +when he came to the corner and turned south on the cleared sidewalk. On +he hurried and around to the kitchen door. + +"Is he gone?" he inquired, poking his head into the room where his +brother was busily washing dishes. + +Mike stared. The door had opened so softly, the words were so +breathless, and the little boy so very red in the face. "Who?" he asked +in astonishment. + +"The Gineral," said Jim impatiently. + +"Just going," returned Mike. And at the words Jim was out with the door +shut behind him. + +"What's got into little Jim?" thought Mike. Out of the yard flew Jim, +and took on an air of indifferent loitering as he waited. Yes, there +came the General. How broad his shoulders were! How straight his back! +How firm his tread! At sight of all this little Jim squared himself and, +a half block in the rear, walked imitatively down the street. It was all +very well for his mother to say that Jim was a born fighter. But she had +entirely overlooked the fact that he was a born mimic also. + +Here and there a smiling girl ran to the window to gaze after the two as +they passed--the stately old General and his ridiculous little copy. But +it was when they neared the square that the guffaws began. The General, +being slightly deaf, did not notice, and little Jim was so intent on +following copy that he paid no attention. Thus they went the entire +length of the east side of the square, and then along the south side +until, at the southwest corner, the old soldier disappeared in the +doorway of the bank. By this time little Jim's shoulders were aching +from the restraint put upon them, for Jim was not naturally erect. And +his long walk at what was, to him, an usually slow pace had made his +nose blue with cold. But instead of running off to get warm he pressed +close against the big window and peered in at his pattern. He knew his +back and his walk now, and he wanted to see his face. + +Presently one of the amused spectators stepped into the bank and spoke a +few words to its president, and the General turned to look at the little +fellow. + +"Who is he?" he asked. + +"One of your O'Callaghans, General," was the laughing answer. + +The General flushed. Then he beckoned to Jim, who immediately came in. + +"Go back to the stove and get warm, my boy," he said. "You look cold." + +Jim obeyed and presently the General's friend went out. + +"Now, my boy," said the General, walking back to the stove, "what did +you mean by following me?" + +Little Jim's blue eyes looked up into the blue eyes of the old soldier. +"Our eyes is the same color," he thought. And then he answered: "My +mother told me to be makin' a pattern out of you. She told the same to +Pat and Mike, too, and I'm goin' to do it better than they do, see if I +don't. Why, they don't walk fine and straight like you do. But I can do +it. I larned this morning." + +The General laughed. "And what were you peering in at the window for?" + +"Sure and I wanted to be watchin' your face, so I did. 'Tis my mother as +says I'm the born fighter, and she says, 'Look at the General. Does he +be goin' round fightin' in times of peace? That he don't.' And she wants +me to be like you and I'm goin' to be." + +"What's your name?" + +"Jim." + +"Well, Jim, I don't think your mother meant that you should follow me +through the street and try to walk like me. And you must not do so any +more." + +"But I knows how now, sir," objected Jim, who was loth to discard his +new accomplishment. + +"Nevertheless you must not follow me about and imitate my movements any +more," forbade the General. + +"And how am I to be like you then, if you won't let me do the way you +do?" + +For a moment the General seemed perplexed. Then he opened the door and +motioned Jim out. "Ask your mother," he said. + +"I won't," declared little Jim obstinately, when he found himself in the +street. "I won't ask her." + +But he did. The coasting was excellent on a certain hill, and the hill +was only a short distance northwest of the O'Callaghan home. + +"'Twill do Andy good to have a bit of a change and eat wanst of a supper +he ain't cooked," the widow had said. And so it was that she was alone, +save for Larry, when Jim came in after school. Presently the whole +affair of the morning came out, and Mrs. O'Callaghan listened with +horrified ears. + +"And do you know how that looked to them that seen you?" she asked +severely. "Sure and it looked loike you was makin' fun of the Gineral." + +"But I wasn't," protested little Jim. + +"Sure and don't I know that? Would a b'y of mine be makin' fun of +Gineral Brady?" + +"He said I wasn't to do it no more," confided little Jim humbly. + +The widow nodded approbation. "And what did you say then?" she asked. + +"I says to him, 'How can I get to be like you, sir, when you won't let +me do the way you do?'" + +"And then?" + +"Then he opened the door, and his hand said, 'Go outside.' And just as I +was goin' he said, 'Ask your mother.'" + +"'Twasn't for naught he got made a gineral," commented Mrs. O'Callaghan. +"'Tis himsilf as knows a b'y's mother is the wan. For who is it else can +see how he's so full of brag he's loike to boorst and a-wantin' to do +big things till he can't dust good nor wash the plates clean? Dust on +the father's chair, down on the rockers where you thought it wouldn't +show, and egg on the plates, and them piled so slick wan on top of the +other and lookin' as innocent as if they felt thimsilves quite clean. +Ah, Jim! Jim!" + +The widow's fourth son blushed. He cast a hasty glance over the room and +was relieved to see that Larry, his mother's only other auditor, was +playing busily in a corner. + +Mrs. O'Callaghan went on. She had Jim all to herself and she meant to +improve her chance. + +"You haint got the hang of this ambition business, Jim. That's the +trouble. You're always tryin' to do some big thing and beat somebody. +'Tis well you should know the Lord niver puts little b'ys and big jobs +together. He gives the little b'ys a chance at the little jobs, and them +as does the little jobs faithful gets to be the men that does the big +jobs easy." + +Jim now sought to turn the conversation, the doctrine of faithfulness in +small things not being at all to his taste. "And will _I_ be havin' +a bank, too, like the Gineral?" he asked. + +His mother looked at him. "There you go again, Jim," she said. "And sure +how can I tell whether you'll have a bank or not? 'Tisn't all the good +foightin' men as has banks. But you might try for it. And if you've got +a bank in your eye, you'd best pay particular attintion to your dustin' +and your dishwashin'. Them's your two first steps." + +Little Jim pondered as well as he was able. It seemed to him that the +first steps to everything in life, according to his mother, were dusting +and dishwashing. His face was downcast and he put the dishes on the +table in an absent-minded way. + +"What are you thinkin' about, Jim?" asked his mother after many a +sidelong glance at him. "Cheer up!" + +"Ain't there no other first steps?" he asked gloomily. + +"Not for you, Jim. And it's lucky you are that you don't loike the +dustin' and the dishwashin'." + +Jim was evidently mystified. + +"Because, do you see, Jim, iverybody has got to larn sooner or later to +do things they don't loike to do. You've begun in toime, so you have, +and, if you kape on, you can get a lot of it done before you come to the +place where you can do what you loike, such as kapin' a bank and that. +But it's no business. The Gineral's business was foightin', you know. He +kapes a bank jist to pass the toime." + +Little Jim's eyes widened. Here was a new outlook for him. + +"But you must do 'em good," admonished his mother. "There's nothin' but +bad luck goes with poor dustin' and dirty dishwashin'. And spakin' of +luck, it's lucky you are I caught you at it the first toime you done 'em +bad, for, do you see, I'll be lookin' out for you now for a good bit +jist to be seein' that you're a b'y that can be trusted. It's hopin' I +am you'll be loike your father, for 'twas your father as could be +trusted ivery toime. And now I've a plan for you. We'll be havin' Moike +to show you how they lays the table at the Gineral's. 'Twill be a foine +thing for you to larn, and 'twill surprise Pat, and be a good thing for +the little b'ys to see. Them little b'ys don't get the chance to see +much otherwheres, and they'll have to be larnin' their manners to home, +so they will. Pat and Moike with the good manners about eatin' they've +larned at the Gineral's, and the little b'ys without a manner to their +back! Sure and 'twill be a lesson to 'em to see the table when you've +larned to set it roight." + +Jim brightened at once. He had had so much lesson himself to-day that it +was a great pleasure to think of his younger brothers being instructed +in their turn. In they came at that moment, their red little hands +tingling with cold. But they were hilarious, for kind-hearted Andy had +taken them to the hill, and over and over they had whizzed down its long +length with him. At another time Jim might have been jealous; but +to-night he regarded them from the vantage ground of his superior +information concerning them. They were to be instructed. And Jim knew +it, if they did not. He placed the chairs with dignity, and hoped +instruction might prove as unwelcome to Barney and Tommie as it was to +him. And as they jounced down into their seats the moment the steaming +supper was put upon the table, and gazed at it with eager, hungry eyes, +and even gave a sniff or two, he felt that here was a field for +improvement, indeed. And he smiled. Not that Jim was a bad boy, or a +malicious one, but when Barney and Tommie were wrong, it was the thing +that they should be set right, of course. + +[Illustration: "In they came at that moment"] + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Pat had now been in Mr. Farnham's employ two months and more, and never +had his faithfulness slackened. He had caught the knack of measuring +goods easily and tying up packages neatly. He could run off a length of +calico and display it to any customer that came to him, and what most +endeared him to Mr. Farnham was that he could sell. + +"Best clerk I ever had," the merchant told himself. But he did not +advance this "best clerk" although Pat longed and hoped for promotion. +Upon every opportunity he studied dress goods at the front end of the +store, and carpets and cloaks at the rear. And day by day he went on +patiently selling prints, ginghams and muslins. + +"'Tis the best things as are longest a-comin' sometimes," said his +mother encouragingly. "Are you sellin' what you've got as well as you +know how?" + +"I am, mother." + +"Well, if you are, be sure Mr. Farnham knows it, and, by the same token, +he'd be knowin' it if you was gapin' in the customers' faces or hummin' +or whistlin' soft like while you waited on 'em. Mr. Wall had a clerk +wanst that done that way. I've seen him. And, by the same token, he +ain't got him now. Ladies don't care for hummin' and whistlin' when +they're buyin' goods." + +And now trade was growing heavier. The other clerks were overburdened, +while Pat in his humble place had little to do. Suddenly there came a +call for him at the dress counter. A lady had come in and both the other +clerks were busy. She was one who continually lamented in an injured +tone of voice that she lived in so small a town as Wennott, and she +rarely made purchases there. Her name was Mrs. Pomeroy. + +"Let us see if Pat sells her anything. It will be a wonder if he does," +thought Mr. Farnham. + +Languidly Mrs. Pomeroy examined this and that in an uninterested way, +and all the time Pat was paying the closest attention, trying to +discover just what she wanted. His heart was beating fast. If only he +could make a sale, what might it not mean to him? + +"Here is a pattern for a street dress, madam." Pat's voice was musical, +and his manner most respectful. Mrs. Pomeroy felt interested and +attracted at once. She looked on while Pat drew out the dress pattern +from its box, displaying to advantage its soft coloring and fine +texture. + +Mrs. Pomeroy put her head on one side and regarded it through half-shut +eyes. + +"The only pattern of exactly its sort and color," said the persuasive +voice of Pat. He had learned from the other clerks that this was a great +recommendation to a piece of goods and helped to sell it. + +Mrs. Pomeroy reflected. + +She asked the price and reflected again, and all the time she noticed +that Pat's interest was real and not simulated; that he was doing his +best to please her. She liked the goods, but not better than a pattern +she had seen at Wall's. But Wall's clerks were inattentive and +indifferent. They had an air that said "There are the goods. Buy 'em or +leave 'em. 'Tis nothing to us." + +She was thinking of this as well as of the dress goods before her and +finally she said, "You may wrap the pattern up. I will take it." + +Then did Pat's eyes dance with delight, and he thought of his mother. +But it was only a glancing thought, for in a second he was saying: "Mr. +Farnham has gloves to match." + +"I will look at them." + +To look was to buy when Pat was salesman, and, in a few moments, the +happiest clerk in the store, Pat walked modestly back to his own place. + +"Well done, Pat!" exclaimed Mr. Farnham, going up to him. "I wish you +would keep an eye on the dress counter, and, whenever another clerk is +needed, attend there." + +"I will, sir," answered Pat gratefully. + +Three times more was Pat needed before the day closed, and every time he +made a good sale. + +As usual Mrs. O'Callaghan was waiting alone for Pat. She was extremely +tired and almost despondent. For to earn what she could and keep her +sons up to the mark she had set for them was a great strain on her. And +she missed her husband. More and more she missed him. "Ah, Tim!" she +cried, "'twas a great thing you done for me when you taught our b'ys +that moind me they must and that without questions about it. Only for +that I couldn't do much with 'em. And without you it's hard enough, so +it is. I hain't never laid finger on wan of 'em, and I won't nayther, +for sure they're not beasts but b'ys. I mistrust my hardest toimes are +ahead of me. Pat and Moike and Andy don't trouble me none. Sure and a +bloind man can see them three is all roight. But Jim and Barney and +Tommie and Larry now--how can I be tellin' what's comin' of them? And I +can't set the big b'ys over 'em only to take care of 'em loike, for sure +b'ys as are worth anything won't be bossed by their big brothers. They +sees the unfairness of it." + +And then intruding upon her thoughts came a boy's merry whistle; a +whistle that told of a heart where happiness was bubbling up and +overflowing, and the whistling came nearer and nearer. + +"Whativer do be makin' Pat come home with a tune loike that?" she asked. +And she half rose as Pat's hand opened the door and the tall young +fellow stepped in. The tiny lamp was very bright, and in its light the +boy's eyes were brilliant. + +"Well, Pat!" exclaimed his mother. "The lamp's but a poor match for your +eyes to-night. You've got news for me. What is it?" + +And Pat told with an eager tongue how, at last, he had a chance to +attend at the dress counter when the two regular clerks there were busy +and another one was needed. + +The widow was silent a moment. It was not quite what she had hoped to +hear, knowing her Pat as she did, but she was determined to keep her +son's courage up. So she said, "Well, then, if you've got so far, it +rests with yoursilf to go farther. 'Tis a blessed thing that there are +such a many things in this world a-restin' on a body's lone silf. But +there's them that niver foinds it out, and that goes about layin' their +own blame here, there and yon." + +Pat's elation lasted him overnight and even well on into the next day. +And that day was more wonderful than the one before it. For, about the +middle of the forenoon, General Brady came into the store and walked +back to Mr. Farnham's desk, giving Pat a smile and a bow as he passed +him, and receiving in return an affectionate look. The one evening a +week with the General had not served to diminish the boy's fondness for +him, but it had served to make Pat a greater favorite than ever with the +old soldier. + +"Mr. Farnham," said the General, after a few pleasant words had been +exchanged, "Mr. Wall offers thirty dollars a month for Pat. Do you wish +to keep him?" + +"I suppose I shall have to come up to Wall's offer if I do?" + +"Exactly," was the response with a smile. The General was delighted with +Pat's success, and he could not help showing it. + +"Pat is getting himself a reputation among your customers," he remarked +pleasantly. + +"Frankly, General," replied Mr. Farnham, "he's the best boy I ever had. +He shall have his thirty dollars." + +If the whistle was merry the night before, it was mad with joy on that +Wednesday evening. + +"Pat! Pat! what ails you?" cried his mother as the boy came bounding in +with a shout and a toss of his cap. "You'll be wakin' your brothers." + +"I'd like to wake 'em, mother," was the jubilant answer. "I've got news +that's worth wakin' 'em for." + +"And what is it?" was the eager question. + +"Well, mother, then it's this. I'm to have thirty dollars a month and to +stay at the dress counter." + +"Pat! Pat!" exclaimed the little woman, excited in her turn. "It's forty +years old I am, and sure and I know better than to be wakin' b'ys out of +their slape jist to be hearin' a bit of news. But I'm goin' to wake 'em. +They shall be knowin' this night what comes to a b'y that does his best +when he's got Gineral Brady to back him. And would Gineral Brady back +you if you didn't desarve it? That he wouldn't. I ain't heard nothin' of +his backin' up street loafers nor any sort of shiftless b'ys." + +The boys were wakened, and a difficult task it was. But when, at last, +they were all thoroughly roused and were made to understand that there +was no fire, nor any uproar in the streets, nor a train off the track, +they stared about them wonderingly. And when they had been told of Pat's +good fortune, "Is _that_ all?" asked jealous little Jim, and down +went his red head on the pillow, and shut went his eyes in a twinkling. +Barney and Tommie, who knew not the value of money, gazed solemnly at +their mother and Pat, and then into each other's eyes and composedly +laid themselves down to renewed slumber. And Larry howled till the +windows rattled, for Larry was a strong child for his years, and never +before had he been waked up in the night. But Andy sat up in bed and +clasped his brother's hand in both his while his face showed his +delight. + +And then something happened to Andy. His mother, disgusted at the +conduct of the little boys, put her arm around his neck and kissed him. + +"It's a jewel you are, Andy," she said, "with good understandin' in you. +You'll be wakin' up Pat in the noight some day." + +"Huh!" thought jealous little Jim, who was only feigning sleep. + +"Now, mother," said Pat when the tiny lamp stood once more on the +kitchen table, and the two sat beside the stove, "will you give up two +of your wash places?" + +"Not I, Pat dear. With six of us, not countin' you and not countin' +Moike, who cares for himsilf, we need all the money we can honestly +get." + +"Only one, then, mother; only one. My good luck is no comfort to me if I +can't think of your getting a day's rest every week out of it." + +The widow regarded him earnestly. She saw how her refusal would pain him +and she yielded. "Well, then," she said, "wan place, Pat dear, I'll give +up. And it'll be Wednesday, because 'twas on a Wednesday that your luck +come to you." + +Another month went by and the holiday trade was over. Nevertheless the +amount of custom at Mr. Farnham's did not diminish much. Ladies who went +out on looking tours, if they began at Farnham's ended there by +purchasing. If they stopped first at Wall's they went on to Farnham's +and bought there. Mr. Wall was not blind. And so, one day General Brady +walked into Mr. Farnham's store and back to his desk again. + +"Another rise?" asked the merchant laughingly. + +"Something of the sort," was the rejoinder. "Mr. Wall offers forty +dollars a month for Pat." + +"He doesn't take him though," was the significant answer. + +The General laughed. "I see you appreciate him," he said. + +"Well, to tell the truth, General, I know my right hand man when I see +him, and Pat O'Callaghan is his name. I only wish there were two of +him." + +The General's face grew thoughtful. "There may be," he said at length. +"His next brother, Mike, is at our house, and just as much of a born +trader as Pat. His ways, however, are a little different." + +Mr. Farnham put out his hand. "I take this hint as very kind of you, +General. When may I have him?" + +"Could you wait till next fall? He ought to finish this school year. +Next winter I could take charge of him one evening a week together with +Pat. The terms must be the same for him as they were for Pat when he +began--fifteen dollars a month and one evening each week out." + +"All right, General. I'll be frank with you---I'm glad to get him on +those terms. I begin to think that it's enough of a recommendation for a +boy to be an O'Callaghan." + +The General smiled as he left Mr. Farnham's desk, and on his way out of +the store, he stopped to speak to Pat. + +"What is your greatest ambition, my boy?" he asked. And he knew what +answer he would receive before Pat replied, "To have a store with +O'Callaghan Brothers over the door." + +Again the General smiled, and this time very kindly. "I'll tell you a +sort of a secret," he said, "that isn't so much of a secret that you +need to hesitate about speaking of it. Mike's coming to Mr. Farnham next +fall." + +Then the boy got hold of the man's hand. "General Brady," he began after +a moment of silence, "you know I can't thank you as I ought in words, +but----" and then he stopped. This boy who could fight to defend his +small brother, who could face contempt to ease his mother's burdens, who +could grub and dig and win a chance for his own promotion, was very near +to tears. + +He did not wish to shed those tears, and the General knew it. So with a +hearty "Good-by, Pat," the fine old soldier passed on. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +The shanty by the tracks had never seen such rejoicing as occurred +within its cheap walls that January evening. Pat had said nothing at +supper time of his wonderful news concerning Mike. He knew how anxious +his brother would be to tell it himself, and he had left the tale of his +own advancement to follow Mike's disclosure. For he felt sure that he +should find Mike upon his return from the store at nine o'clock, and +that he would spend the night at home, as he sometimes did. Many times +that day he glanced at the print and gingham counter and imagined Mike's +sturdy figure behind it. Pat's hands were long and slender, while Mike's +were of the sort known as "useful." "Before ever he comes in he shall +know how to measure and display goods, and how to make neat packages," +he thought. "I'll teach him myself odd times." + +And then followed visions of the increased comfort to come to the +shanty. He saw his mother, with never a wash place, staying at home +every day to guide and control the little boys. He saw Andy, quiet, +studious Andy, moving gently about in General Brady's house, and the +thought came to him that the General would probably like him better than +he did either Mike or himself, though Andy would never be much of a hand +at marketing. And then came the most daring thought of all--"Andy shall +go to college. Mike and I will help him to it." + +But never an opportunity of making a sale did Pat miss. With that last +decision to send Andy to college he had hung upon himself a new weight. +Not a weight that oppressed and bent him down, but a weight that caused +him to hold his head up and resolve, as never before, to do his best. + +"Andy's not strong," his busy brain, in the intervals of trade, ran on. +"But with Mike on one side of him and me on the other, he'll get to the +place where he can do his best. General Brady is helping Mike and me. +It's a pity if the two of us can't help Andy." + +It was hard to keep still at supper time, but Pat succeeded, only +allowing himself to bestow a look of particular affection on his +favorite brother. + +But his mother was not to be deceived. She followed him to the door and, +putting her head outside, said softly, "You may kape still if you want +to, Pat dear, but 'tis mysilf as knows you've somethin' on your moind." + +"Well, then, mother," prophesied Pat with a laughing backward glance, "I +think Mike will be over to spend the evening with you." And he was off. + +"And what does he mean by that?" wondered Mrs. O'Callaghan, looking +after him. "There's somethin' astir. I felt it by the look of him." + +She turned back and shut the door, and there was little Jim loitering as +if he hardly knew whether to wash the dishes or not. + +"'Tis the bank that's ahead of you, do you moind, Jim? Hurry up with +your dish pan. Pat was sayin' maybe Mike'll be home this evenin'." + +In response to this urging little Jim made a clatter with the dishes +that might be taken by some to represent an increase of speed, but his +mother was not of that number. + +"Come, Jim," she said, "less n'ise. If you was hustlin' them thin china +dishes of Mrs. Gineral Brady's loike that there'd be naught left of 'em +but pieces--and dirty pieces, too, for they'd all be broke before you'd +washed wan of 'em." + +"I ain't never goin' to wash any of Mrs. Gineral Brady's dishes," +remarked Jim calmly. + +"You're young yet, Jim, to be sayin' what you're goin' to do and what +not," was the severe response. "At your age your father would niver have +said he would or he would not about what was a long way ahead of him, +for your father was wise, and he knowed that ne'er a wan of us knows +what's comin' to us." + +[Illustration: "Little Jim made a clatter with the dishes."] + +But Jim's countenance expressed indifference. "Gineral Brady's got a +bank without washin' dishes for it," he observed. + +The widow stared. This was a little nearer to impertinence than anything +she had before encountered. + +"You moind the Gineral made gravy, do you?" she said at last. "And good +gravy, too?" + +Jim was obliged to own that he remembered it. "And that he done it with +an apron on to kape from gettin' burnt and spattered?" + +Jim nodded. + +"Him that ain't above makin' gravy, ain't above washin' dishes, +nayther," was the statement made in Mrs. O'Callaghan's most impressive +manner. "Show Gineral Brady a pile of dishes that it was his place to +wash, and he'd wash 'em, you may depind. 'Tis iver the biggest folks as +will do little things loike that when they has to, and do 'em good, too. +What's got into you, Jim?" + +"You think Pat and Mike and Andy's better than me," burst out the +jealous little fellow. + +"I think," said his mother, "that Pat and Moike and Andy _does_ +better than you, for they takes what's set for 'em and does it as good +as they can. But you're all Tim's b'ys, so you are." + +"If I done like Pat and Mike and Andy," asked Jim hesitatingly, "would +you think I was just as good?" + +"Sure and I would, Jim," said his mother earnestly. "Will you try?" + +"I will." + +And then steps crunched on the snowy path that led to the shanty door, +and Mike came in. There was that in his face that told his mother +without a word that he brought good news. + +"Moike! Moike! 'Tis the shanty's the luckiest place in town, for there's +naught but good news comes to it, do you see? What have you got to +tell?" + +"I've got to tell," cried Mike in ringing tones, "that next fall I'm to +go to Mr. Farnham's store at fifteen dollars a month. Pat shan't do all +for you, mother. I'll do some myself." + +For a moment the widow was dazed. Then she said, "I don't know what I +was lookin' for, but it wasn't anything so good as this. 'Twas Gineral +Brady got you the place, was it?" + +"It was, mother." + +"I knowed it. He's the man to be loike." She looked around upon her +sons, and then she said, "I want all my b'ys to remimber that it's +honorable empl'yment to do anything in the world for Gineral Brady and +Mrs. Gineral Brady, too. The toime may come when you can do some big +thing for 'em, but the toime's roight here when you can sweep and cook +and wash dishes for 'em, and make 'em aisy and comfortable, and so +lingthen out their days. Moike goin' to the store gives Andy a chance to +show that the O'Callaghans knows how to be grateful. And, Moike, you'll +be takin' home another goose for 'em when you go. A goose ain't much, +but it shows what I'd do if I had the chance. And that's all that makes +a prisint seem good anyway--jist to know that the giver's heart is warm +toward you." + +She paused and then went on, "Well, well, and that's what Pat was kapin' +still about at supper toime. I could see that he knowed somethin' that +he wouldn't tell. He'd be givin' you the chance to bring your own good +news, Moike, do you see? Pat's the b'y to give other folks the chances +as is their due. There's them that fond of gabblin' and makin' a stir +that they'd have told it thimsilves, but sure O'Callaghan ain't their +name." + +At this every face grew bright, for even Barney and Tommie saw that no +undue praise of Pat was meant, but that, as O'Callaghans, they were all +held incapable of telling other people's stories, and they lifted their +heads up. All but Larry who, with sleepily drooping crown, was that +moment taken up and prepared for bed. + +"And now, Moike," said Mrs. O'Callaghan when Larry had been disposed of, +"'tis fitting you should sit to-night in the father's chair. Sit you +down in it." + +"Not I, mother," responded the gallant Mike. "Sit you in it, and 'twill +be all the same as if I sat there myself." + +"Well, well, Moike," said the widow with a pleased smile. "Have it your +own way. Kape on tryin' to spoil your mother with kindness. 'Tis +somethin' you larned from your father, and I'll not be denyin' it makes +my heart loight." + +And then the talk went on to Andy's promotion to General Brady's +kitchen. + +"Andy and me won't be a team then," put in little Jim. "I'll run things +myself. I guess I can cook." + +"Well said, Jim!" cried his mother. "To be sure you can cook--when +you've larned how. There's them that takes to cookin' by nature, I've +heard, but I've niver seen any of 'em. There's rules to iverything, and +iverybody must larn 'em. For 'tis the rule that opens the stingy hand, +and shuts a bit the ginerous wan, and so kapes all straight." + +But little Jim turned a deaf ear to his mother's wisdom. He was thinking +what wonderful dishes he would concoct, and how often they would have +pudding. Pudding was Jim's favorite food, and something seldom seen on +the widow's table. Little Jim resolved to change the bill of fare, and +to go without pudding only when he must. He could not hope to put his +plans into operation for many months to come, however; so, with a sigh, +he opened his eyes and ears again to what was passing around him, and +was just in time to see Barney and Tommie marching to bed an hour later +than usual. They had been permitted to sit up till half-past eight in +honor of Mike's good fortune. Had their mother known all, they might +have stayed in the kitchen engaged in the difficult task of keeping +their eyes open at least an hour longer. But they were fast enough +asleep in their bed when Pat came gaily in. + +"Ah, Pat, my b'y, you kept still at supper toime famous, so you did, but +the news is out," began Mrs. O'Callaghan. "It's Moike that's in luck, +and sure he desarves it." + +"That he does, mother," agreed Pat heartily. "But will you say the same +for me if I tell you something?" + +The widow regarded him anxiously. There could not be bad news! "Out with +it quick, Pat!" she cried. + +"Well, then, mother," said Pat with mock resignation in his tone and a +sparkle of fun in his eye, "I'm to have forty dollars a month." + +"Forty dollars!" repeated the mother. "Forty dollars! That's the +Gineral's doin's again. B'ys, I'd be proud to see any wan of you crawl +on your knees to sarve the Gineral. Look at all he's done for us, and us +doin' nothin' to desarve it, only doin' our best." + +And there were tears in the widow's eyes. + +"But, mother," resumed Pat, "'tis yourself has the bad luck." + +"And what do you mean, Pat?" + +"You've lost another wash place to-night." + +Mrs. O'Callaghan smiled. "Are you sure of it?" she asked. + +"I am," was the determined answer. + +"Have it your own way. You and Moike are headstrong b'ys, so you are. If +you kape on I'll have nothin' to do but to sit with my hands folded. And +that's what your father was always plazed to see me do." + +The two brothers exchanged glances of satisfaction, while Andy looked +wistfully on and little Jim frowned jealously. + +"Now, mother," said Pat, "I've the thought for you. It came to me to-day +in the store. 'Tis the best thought ever I had. Andy's going to +college." + +The delicate boy started. How had Pat divined the wish of his heart? + +"'Tis Andy that will make us all proud, if only he can go to college," +concluded this unselfish oldest brother. + +The widow glanced at the lit-up countenance and eager eyes of her third +son, and, loth to rouse hopes that might later have to be dashed down, +observed, "Thim colleges are ixpinsive, I belave." + +Andy's face clouded with anxiety. There must be a chance for him, or Pat +would not have spoken with so much certainty. + +"They may be," replied Pat, "but Andy will have Mike on one side of him +and me on the other, and we'll make it all right." + +"That we will," cried Mike enthusiastically. "By the time he needs to go +I'll be making forty dollars a month myself, and little Jim will be +earning for himself." + +Sturdy Mike as he spoke cast an encouraging look on his favorite +brother, who laid by his frown and put on at once an air of importance. + +"I'm goin' to be a foightin' man loike the Gineral," he announced +pompously. + +"Well, well," cried the widow. "I'm gettin' old fast. You'll all be +growed up in a few minutes." + +And then they all laughed. + +But presently the mother said, "Thank God for brothers as is brothers. +Andy is goin' to college sure." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Summer time came again. The stove went out into the airy kitchen, and a +larger flock of geese squawked in the weeds and ditches. Again Andy and +Jim drove the cows, Andy of a morning with a dreamy stroll, and Jim of +an evening with a strut that was intended for a military gait. Who had +told little Jim of West Point, the family did not know. But he had been +told by somebody. + +And his cows were to him as a battalion to be commanded. The General +used to watch him from his front veranda with a smile. Somewhere Jim had +picked up the military salute, and he never failed to honor the General +with it as he strutted past with his cows. And always the old soldier +responded with an amused look in his eyes which Jim was too far away to +see, even if he had not been preoccupied with his own visions. Jim was +past ten now, and not much of a favorite with other boys. But he was a +prime favorite with himself. + +"West P'int," mused Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Let him go there if he can. +'Twill be better than gettin' to be an agitator." + +The widow continued her musings and finally she asked, "Where is West +P'int, Jim?" + +"It's where they make foightin' men out of boys." + +"Is it far from here?" + +"I don't know. I can get there anyway." His mother looked at him and she +saw pugnacity written all over him. His close-cropped red hair, which +was of a beautiful shade and very thick, stood straight on end all over +his head. His very nature seemed belligerent. + +"The trouble with you, Jim," she said, "is that you'd iver go foightin' +in toimes of peace. Foight when foightin's to be done, and the rest of +the toime look plissant loike the Gineral." + +"I ain't foightin' in times of peace any more," responded little Jim +confidentially. "I ain't licked a boy for three weeks. Mebbe I won't +lick any one all summer." + +His mother sighed. "I should hope you wouldn't, Jim," she said. "'Tisn't +gintlemanly to be lickin' any wan with your fist." + +"And what would I be lickin' 'em with?" inquired Jim wonderingly. + +"You're not to be lickin' 'em at all. Hear to me now, Jim, and don't be +the only wan of your father's b'ys I'll have to punish. Wait till you +get to your West P'int, and larn when and where to foight. Will you, +Jim?" + +Little Jim reflected. The request seemed a reasonable one, and so "I +will," said he. + +Evening after evening he drove the cows and gave his commands at the +corners of the streets. And the cows plodded on, swinging their tails to +brush the flies away from their sides, stopping here and there where a +mouthful of grass might be picked up, stirring the dust in dry weather +with their dragging feet, and sinking hoof-deep in the mud when there +had been rain. But always little Jim was the commander--even when the +rain soaked him and ran in rills from his hat brim. + +On rainy mornings Andy, wearing rubber boots and a rubber coat and +carrying an umbrella, picked his way along, following his obedient +charges to the pasture gate. But little Jim liked to have bare legs and +feet and to feel the soft mud between his toes, and the knowledge that +he was getting wetter and wetter was most satisfactory to him. At home +there was always a clean shirt and a pair of cottonade pantaloons +waiting for him, and nothing but a "Well, Jim!" by way of reproof. + +"File right!" little Jim would cry, or "File left!" as the case might +be. And when the street corner was turned, "Forward!" + +All this circumstance and show had its effect on the two small Morton +boys and at last, on a pleasant June evening, they began to mock him. + +Jim stood it silently for a quarter of a second, while his face grew +red. Then he burst out, "I'd lick both of you, if I was sure this was a +where or when to foight!" + +His persecutors received this information with delight, and repeated it +afterward to their older brother with many chuckles. + +"Lucky for you!" was his answer. "He can whip any boy in town of your +size." Whereat the little fellows grew sober, and recognized the fact +that some scruple of Jim's not understood by them had probably saved +them unpleasant consequences of their mockery. + +Jim's ambition, in due time, came to the ears of General Brady, and very +soon thereafter the old soldier, who had now taken the whole O'Callaghan +family under his charge, contrived to meet the boy. + +"Jim," said he, "I hear you're quite set on West Point. I also hear that +you did not stand well in your classes last year. I advise you to study +hard hereafter." + +Jim touched his hat in military style. "What's larnin' your lessons got +to do with bein' a foightin' man, sir?" he asked respectfully. + +"A great deal, my boy. If you ever get to West Point you will have to +study here, and you will have to go to school there besides." + +Jim sighed. "You can't get to be nothin' you want to be without doin' a +lot you don't want to do," he said despondently. "I was goin' to have a +bank loike you, sir, but my mother said the first steps to it was +dustin' and dishwashin', so I give up the notion." + +The General laughed and little Jim went his way, but he remembered the +General's words. As the summer waned and the time for school approached +the cows heard no more "File right! File left! Forward!" Little Jim had +no love for study and he drove with a "Hi, there! Get along with you!" +But it was all one to the cows. And so his dreams of West Point faded. +He began to study the cook book, for now Andy was to go to General +Brady's, and on two days of the week he was to make the family happy +with his puddings. Mrs. O'Callaghan, having but two days out now, had +decided to do the cooking herself on those days when she was at home. + +But never a word said little Jim to his mother on the subject of +puddings. "I can read just how to make 'em. I'll not be botherin' her," +he thought. "Pat and Mike is always wantin' her to take it aisy. She can +take it aisy about the puddin', so she can." + +The week before school began his mother had given him some instructions +of a general character on cooking and sweeping and bed-making. "I'm home +so much, Jim," she told him, "that I'll let you off with makin' the bed +where you're to slape with Mike. That you must make so's to be larnin' +how." + +"Wan bed's not much," said little Jim airily. + +"See that you makes it good then," was the answer. + +"And don't you be burnin' the steak nor soggin' the potatoes," was her +parting charge when she went to her washing on Monday, the first day of +school. + +"Sure and I won't," was the confident response. "I know how to cook +steak and potatoes from watchin' Andy." + +That night after school little Jim stepped into Mr. Farnham's store. +"I'm needin' a few raisins for my cookin'," he said to Pat. + +Pat looked surprised, but handed him the money and little Jim strutted +out. + +"What did Jim want?" asked Mike when he had opportunity. + +"Raisins for his cooking." And both brothers grinned. + +"I'll just be doin' the hardest first," said little Jim as, having +reached home, he tossed off his hat, tied on his apron, and washed his +hands. "And what's that but the puddin'?" + +He slapped the pudding dish out on the table, opened his paper of +raisins, ate two or three just to be sure they were good, and then +hastily sought the cook book. It opened of itself at the pudding page, +which little Jim took to be a good omen. "Puddin's the thing," he said. + +"Now how much shall I make? Barney and Tommie is awful eaters when it +comes to somethin' good, and so is Larry. I'd ought to have enough." + +He read over the directions. + +"Seems to me this receipt sounds skimpin'," was his comment. "Somethin's +got to be done about it. Most loike it wasn't made for a big family, but +for a little wan loike General Brady's." + +He ate another raisin. + +"A little puddin's just nothin'," he said. "I'll just put in what the +receipt calls for, and as much more of everything as it seems to need." + +Busily he measured and stirred and tasted, and with every taste more +sugar was added, for little Jim liked sweets. At last it was ready for +the oven, even down to the raisins, which had been picked from their +stems and all unwashed and unstoned cast into the pudding basin. And +never before had that or any other pudding dish been so full. If Jim so +much as touched it, it slopped over. + +"And sure and that's because the puddin' dish is too little," he +remarked to himself. "They'll have to be gettin' me a bigger wan. And +how long will it take it to bake, I wonder? Till it's done, of course." + +He turned to the stove, which was now in the house again, and the fire +was out. + +"Huh!" exclaimed little Jim. "I'll soon be makin' a fire." + +He rushed for the kindling, picking out a swimming raisin as he ran. +"They'll see the difference between Andy's cookin' and mine, I'm +thinkin'. Dustin' and dishwashin'! Just as if I couldn't cook with the +best of them!" + +The sugar was sifted over the table, his egg-shells were on the floor, +and a path of flour led to the barrel when, three-quarters of an hour +later, the widow stepped in. But there was a roaring fire and the +pudding was baking. + +"Well, Jim," cried his mother, "'tis a big fire you've got, sure. But I +don't see no potatoes a-cookin'." + +Jim looked blank. He had forgotten the potatoes. He had been so busy +coaling up the fire. + +"Run and get 'em," directed his mother. "There's no toime for palin' +'em. We'll have to b'ile 'em with their jackets on." + +But there was no time even for that, for Pat and Mike came in to supper +and could not be kept waiting. + +Hastily the widow got the dishpan and washed off the sticky table, and +her face, as Jim could see, was very sober. Then, while Jim set the +table, Pat fried the steak and Mike brushed up the flour from the floor. + +And now a burnt smell was in the air. It was not the steak. It seemed to +seep out of the oven. + +"Open the oven door, Jim," commanded Mrs. O'Callaghan, after one +critical sniff. + +[Illustration: "Open the oven door, Jim."] + +The latest cook of the O'Callaghans obeyed, and out rolled a cloud of +smoke. The pudding had boiled over and flooded the oven bottom. Poor +Jim! + +"What's in the oven, Jim? Perhaps you'll be tellin' us," said his mother +gravely. + +"My puddin'," answered little Jim, very red in the face. + +At the word pudding the faces of Barney and Tommie and Larry, who had +come in very hungry, lit up. But at the smell they clouded again. A +pudding lost was worse than having no pudding to begin with. For to lose +what is within reach of his spoon is hard indeed for any boy to bear. + +"And what was it I told you to be cookin' for supper?" asked the widow +when they had all sat down to steak and bread and butter, leaving the +doors and windows wide open to let out the pudding smoke. + +But little Jim did not reply and his downcast look was in such contrast +to his erect hair, which no failure of puddings could down, that Pat and +Mike burst out laughing. The remembrance of the raisins little Jim had +so pompously asked for was upon them, too. And even Mrs. O'Callaghan +smiled. + +"Was it steak and potatoes I told you to be cookin'?" she persisted. + +Little Jim nodded miserably. + +"I'll not be hard on you, Jim," said his mother, "for I see you're +ashamed of yourself, and you ought to be, too. But I'll say this to you; +them that cooks puddin's when they're set to cook steak and potatoes is +loike to make a smoke in the world, and do themsilves small credit. +Let's have no more puddin's, Jim, till I give you the word." + +That was all there was of it. But Jim had lost his appetite for pudding, +and it was long before it returned to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +There were three to sit by the kitchen stove now and talk of an evening +from half-past nine till ten, and they were the widow and Pat and Mike. + +"It's Andy that makes me astonished quite," observed Mrs. O'Callaghan. +"Here it is the first of December and him three months at Gineral +Brady's and gettin' fat on it. He niver got fat to home, and that's what +bates me." + +"Well, mother, he's got a nice big room by himself to sleep in. The +Physiology's down on crowding, and five boys in one bedroom ain't good +for a nervous boy like Andy." + +"Nor it ain't good for the rest of you, nayther," responded Mrs. +O'Callaghan, with conviction. + +"What do you say, b'ys? Shall we ask the landlord to put us on another +room in the spring? He'll raise the rint on us if he does." + +The widow regarded her sons attentively, and they, feeling the proud +responsibility of being consulted by their mother, answered as she would +have them. + +"Then that's settled," said she. "The more room, the more rint. Any +landlord can see that--a lawyer, anyway. Do you think, b'ys, Andy'll be +a lawyer when he comes from college?" + +"Why, mother?" asked Pat. + +"'Cause I don't want him to be. He ain't got it in him to be comin' down +hard and sharp on folks, and so he won't be a good wan. He'll be at the +law loike little Jim at puddin's. You niver was to coort, was you, +b'ys?" + +Pat and Mike confessed that they had never been at court. + +"I knowed you hadn't. I jist asked you. Well, you see, b'ys, them +lawyers gets the witnesses up and asks 'em all sorts of impudent +questions, and jist as good as tells 'em they lies quite often. Andy +couldn't niver do the loikes of that. 'Tain't in him. Do you know, b'ys, +folks can't do what ain't in 'em, no matter if they do go to college. +Now little Jim's the wan for a lawyer. He'd be the wan to make a man +forget his own name, and all on account of impudent questions." + +Pat and Mike looked surprised. They were both fond of little Jim, Mike +particularly so. + +"I see you wonders at me, but little Jim's a-worryin' me. I don't know +what to be doin' with him. B'ys, would you belave it? I can't teach him +a thing. Burn the steak he will if I lave him with it, and Moike knows +the sort of a bed he makes. He's clane out of the notion of that West +P'int and bein' a foightin' man, and the teacher's down on him at the +school for niver larnin' his lessons. And the fear's with me night and +day that he'll get to be wan of them agitators yet." + +Pat and Mike looked at each other. Never before had their mother said a +word to them about any of their brothers. And while they looked at each +other the brave little woman kept her eyes fixed on the stove. + +"The first step to bein' an agitator," she resumed as if half to +herself, "is niver to be doin' what you're set to do good. Then, of +course, them you work for don't loike it, and small blame to 'em. And +the nixt thing is to get turned off and somebody as _will_ do it +good put in your place. And then the nixt step is to go around tellin' +iverybody you meets, whether you knows 'em or not, how you're down on +your luck. And how it's a bad world with no chance in it for poor folks, +when iverybody knows most of the rich folks begun poor, and if there's +no chance for poor folks, how comes them that's rich now to be rich when +they started poor? And then the nixt step is to make them that's content +out of humor, rilin' 'em up with wishin' for what they've got no +business with, seein' they hain't earned it. And that's all there is to +it, for sure when you've got that far you're wan of them agitators." + +The boys listened respectfully, and their mother went on: "Little Jim's +got started that way. He's that far along that he don't do nothin' good +he's set at only when it's a happen so. You can't depind on him. I've +got to head him off from bein' an agitator, for he's your father's b'y, +and I can't meet Tim in the nixt world if I let Jim get ahead of me. +B'ys, will you help me? I've always been thinkin' I couldn't have your +help; I must do it alone. But, b'ys, I can't do it alone." The little +woman's countenance was anxious as she gazed into the sober faces of Pat +and Mike. + +Nothing but boys themselves, though with the reliability of men, they +promised to help. + +"I knowed you would," said the widow gratefully. "And now good night to +you. It's gettin' late. But you've eased my moind wonderful. Just the +spakin' out has done me good. Maybe he'll come through all roight yet." + +The next morning Mrs. O'Callaghan rose with a face bright as ever, but +Pat and Mike were still sober. + +"Cheer up!" was her greeting as they came into the kitchen where she was +already bustling about the stove. "Cheer up, and stand ready till I give +you the word. I'm goin' to have wan more big try at Jim. You took such a +load off me with your listenin' to me and promisin' to help that it's +heartened me wonderful." + +The two elder sons smiled. To be permitted to hearten their mother was +to them a great privilege, and suddenly little Jim did not appear the +hopeless case he had seemed when they went to bed the night before. They +cheered up, and the three were pleasantly chatting when sleepy-eyed +little Jim came out of the bedroom. + +"Hurry, now, and get washed, and then set your table," said his mother +kindly. + +But little Jim was sulky. + +"I'm tired of gettin' up early mornin's just to be doin' girl's work," +he said. + +Mrs. O'Callaghan nodded significantly at Pat and Mike. "What was that +story, Moike, you was tellin' me about the smartest fellow in the +Gineral's mess, before he got to be a gineral, you know, bein' so handy +at all sorts of woman's work? Didn't you tell me the Gineral said there +couldn't no woman come up to him?" + +"I did, mother." + +"I call that pretty foine. Beatin' the women at their own work. There +was only wan man in the mess that could do it, you said?" + +"Yes, mother," smiled Mike. + +"I thought so. 'Tain't often you foind a rale handy man loike that. And +he was the best foighter they had, too?" + +"Yes, mother." + +"I thought I remimbered all about it. Jim, here, can foight, but do +woman's work he can't. That is, and do it good. He mostly gets the +tablecloth crooked. No, he's no hand at the girl's work." + +"I'll show you," thought little Jim. On a sudden the tablecloth was +straight, and everything began to take its proper place on the table. + +"Mother," ventured Pat, though he had not yet received the word, "the +table's set pretty good this morning." + +"So it is, Pat, so it is," responded the widow glancing it over. + +"Maybe Jim can do girl's work after all." + +"Maybe he can, Pat, but he'll have to prove it before he'll foind them +that'll belave it. That's the way in this world. 'Tis not enough to be +sayin' you can do this and that. You've got to prove it. And how will +you prove it? By doin' it, of course." + +Little Jim heard, though he did not seem to be listening, being intent +on making things uncomfortable for Barney and Tommie as far as he could +in a quiet way. + +It was a passion with little Jim to prove things--not by his mother's +method, but by his own. So far his disputes had been with boys of his +own size and larger, and if they doubted what he said he was in the +habit of proving his assertions with his fists. The result was that +other boys either dodged him or agreed with him with suspicious +readiness. His mother had given him a fair trial at the housework. He +would prove to her that it was not because he could not, but because he +would not, that he succeeded no better. He washed the dishes with care +and put them shining on their shelves, and, a little later, poked his +head out of the bedroom door into the kitchen. + +"Mother," he said, "you think I can't make a bed good, don't you?" + +The widow smiled. "I think you _don't_ make it good," was her +answer. + +Jim's face darkened with resolution. "She thinks I can't," he said to +himself. "I will, I guess." + +With vim he set to work, and the bed was made in a trice. Little Jim +stood off as far as he could and sharply eyed his work. "'Tain't done +good," he snapped. And he tore it to pieces again. It took longer to +make it the next time, for he was more careful, but still it didn't look +right. He tore the clothes off it again, this time with a sigh. "Beds is +awful," he said. "It's lots easier to lick a boy than to make a bed." +And then he went at it again. The third time it was a trifle more +presentable, and the school bell was ringing. + +"I've got to go, and I hain't proved it to her," he said. "But I'll work +till I do, see if I don't. And then when I have proved it to her I won't +make no more beds." + +Jim was no favorite at school, where he had fallen a whole room behind +the class he had started with. His teacher usually wore a long-suffering +air when she dealt with him. + +"She looks like she thought I didn't know nothin' and never would," he +said to himself that morning when he had taken his seat after a decided +failure of a recitation. "I'll show her." And he set to work. His mind +was all unused to study, and--that day he didn't show her. + +"Who'd 'a' thought it was so hard to prove things?" he said at night. +"There's another day a-comin', though." + +Now some people are thankful for showing. To little Jim, showing was +degrading. Suddenly his mother perceived this, and felt a relief she had +not known before. + +"Whativer else Jim's got or not got," she said, "he's got a backbone of +his own, so he has. Let him work things out for himsilf. Will I be +showin' him how to make a bed? I won't that. I've been praisin' him too +much, intoirely. I see it now. Praise kapes Pat and Moike and Andy doin' +their best to get more of it. But it makes little Jim aisy in his moind +and scornful loike, so his nose is in the air all the toime and nothin' +done. A very little praise will do Jim. And still less of +fault-findin'," she added. + +"B'ys," she announced that evening "Jim's took a turn. We'll stand off +and watch him a bit. If he'll do roight for his own makin', sure and +that'll be better than for us to be havin' a hand in it. Give him his +head and plinty of chances to prove things, and when he has proved 'em, +own up to it." + +The two brightened. "I couldn't believe little Jim was so bad, mother," +said Mike. + +"Bad, is it? Sure and he ain't bad yet. And now's the toime to kape him +from it. 'Tis little you can be doin' with a spoiled anything. Would you +belave it? He made his bed three toimes this mornin' and done his best +at it, and me a-seein' him through the crack of the door where it was +open a bit. But I can't say nothin' to him nor show him how, for +showin's not for the loike of him. And them that takes iverything hard +that way comes out sometimes at the top of the hape. Provin' things is a +lawyer's business. If Jim iver gets to be a lawyer, he'll be a good +wan." + +Mike, when he went to bed that night, looked down at the small red head +of the future lawyer, snuggled down into the pillow, with the bedclothes +close to his ears. "I'll not believe that Jim will ever come to harm," +he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +"There's another day comin'," little Jim had said when he lay down in +acknowledged defeat on the night that followed his first day of real +trying. The other day came, and after it another and another, and still +others till the first of March was at hand. In the three months, which +was the sum of those "other days," Jim had made good progress. For many +weeks he had been perfect in the art of bed-making, but instead of +giving up the practice of that accomplishment, as he had declared he +would do so soon as he could prove to his mother that he could make a +bed, he had become so cranky and particular that nobody else could make +a bed to suit him. And as for studying--he was three classes ahead of +where the first of December had found him. He could still whip any boy +rash enough to encounter him, but his days and even his evenings, in +great part, were given to preparing a triumph over his mates in his +lessons, and a surprise for his teacher. + +The widow used to lean back in her husband's chair of an evening and +watch him as he sat at the table, his elbows on the pine and his hands +clutching his short hair, while the tiny, unshaded lamp stared in his +face, and he dug away with a pertinacity that meant and insured success. + +"And what book is that you've got?" she would ask when he occasionally +lifted his eyes. He would tell her and, in a moment, be lost to all +surroundings. For little Jim was getting considerable enjoyment out of +his hard work. + +"Pat nor Moike niver studied loike that," thought Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Nor +did even Andy. Andy, he always jist loved his book and took his larnin' +in aisy loike. But look at that little Jim work!" As for little Jim, he +did not seem to observe that he was enjoying his mother's favorable +regard. + +"And what book is it you loike the best?" she asked one evening when Jim +was about to go to bed. + +"The history book," was the answer. + +"And why?" + +"'Cause there's always a lot about the big foightin' men in it." + +[Illustration: "'Look at that little Jim work!'"] + +"Ah!" said the widow. "Andy, he loiked the history book best, too. But I +didn't know before 'twas for the foightin'." + +"'Tain't," briefly replied little Jim. And seeing his mother's +questioning look he went on: "The history book's got a lot in it, too, +about the way the people lived, and the kings and queens, and them that +wrote poems and things. 'Tis for that Andy loikes the history book. +He'll be writin' himself one of these days, I'm thinkin'. His teacher +says he writes the best essays in the school already." + +And having thus artlessly betrayed Andy's ambition, little Jim went to +bed. + +"Ah!" thought the widow, getting out her darning, for only one could use +the lamp at a time, and if Jim was of a mind to study she was of no mind +to hinder him. "And is that what Andy'd be at? I wonder now if that's a +good business? I don't know none of them that has it, and I can't tell." +She drew one of Jim's stockings over her hand and eyed ruminatingly the +prodigious hole in the heel. "That b'y do be gettin' through his +stockin's wonderful," she said dismissing Andy from her thoughts. "Well, +if he niver does no worse than that I'll not be complainin', but sure +and he can make more darnin' than Pat and Moike and Andy put together." + +Why are the winds of March so high? This spring they blew a gale. As +they roared around corners and through tree tops and rushed down the +streets with fury they made pedestrians unsteady. But they did not +disturb little Jim, who buttoned up his coat tight, drew down his hat +and squared his shoulders as he went out to meet their buffets. There +was that in little Jim that rejoiced in such weather. + +One day those frantic winds reached down the big schoolhouse chimney and +drew up a spark of fire from the furnace in the basement. They lodged it +where it would do the most harm, and, in a short time, the janitor was +running with a white face to the principal's office. As quietly as +possible each teacher was called out into the hall and warned. And, in a +few moments more, the pupils in every room were standing in marching +order waiting for the word to file out. Something was wrong each room +knew from the face of its teacher. And then came the clang of the fire +bell, and the waiting ranks were terrified. + +Little Jim's teacher on the second floor was an extremely nervous young +woman. In a voice that trembled with fright and excitement she had +managed to give her orders. She had stationed most of the boys in a line +running north and south and farthest from the door. Nearest the door +were the girls and some of the smaller boys. And now they must wait for +the signal that should announce the turn of their room to march out. As +it happened, little Jim stood at the head of the line of boys, with the +girls not far from him. The fire bell was ringing and all the whistles +in the town screaming. Below them they could hear the little ones +hurried out; above them and on the stairs the third-floor pupils +marching; and then in little Jim's room there was panic. The girls +huddled closer together and began to cry. The boys behind little Jim +began to crowd and push. The nearest boy was against him when little Jim +half turned and threw him back to place by a vigorous jerk of his elbow. + +"Boys! Boys!" screamed the teacher. "Standstill!" + +But they did not heed. Again they struggled forward, while the teacher +covered her face with her hands in horror at the thought of what would +happen on the crowded stairways if her boys rushed out. + +And then little Jim turned his back on the door and the girls near him +and made ready his fists. "The first boy that comes I'll knock down!" he +cried. And the line shrank back. + +"We'll be burned! We'll be burned up!" shrieked a boy, one of the +farthest away. + +"You won't be burned nayther," called back little Jim. "But you'll wish +you was to-morrow if wan of you gets past me. Just you jump them desks +and get past me and I'll lick you till you'll wish you was burnt up!" + +Little Jim's aspect was so fierce, and the boys knew so well that he +would do just as he said, that not one moved from his place. One minute +little Jim held that line of boys. Then the door opened and out filed +the girls. When the last one had disappeared little Jim stepped aside. +"Go out now," he said with fine contempt, "you that are so afraid you'll +get burned yourselves that you'd tramp the girls down." + +The last to leave the room were the teacher and little Jim. Her grasp on +his arm trembled, but it did not let go, even when they had reached the +campus which was full of people. Every business man had locked his doors +and had run with his clerks to the fire. For this was no ordinary fire. +The children of the town were in danger. At a distance Jim could see Pat +with Larry in his arms and Barney and Tommie close beside him, and here +and there, moving anxiously through the crowd, he saw General Brady and +Mike and Andy. But the teacher's grasp on his arm did not relax. The +fire was under control now and no damage had been done that could not be +repaired. And the teacher was talking. And everybody near was listening, +and more were crowding around and straining their ears to hear. Those +nearest were passing the story on, a sentence at a time, after the +manner of interpreters, and suddenly there was a shout, "Three cheers +for little Jim O'Callaghan!" + +[Illustration "'Three cheers for little Jim O'Callaghan.'"] + +And then Mike came tearing up and gave him a hug and a pat on the back. +And up came Andy with a look in his eyes that made little Jim forgive +him on the spot for being first in that housework team in which he +himself had been placed second by his mother. And the General had him by +the hand with a "Well done, Jim!" At which Jim appeared a trifle +bewildered. His fighting propensities had been frowned on so long. + +At her wash place the widow had heard nothing, the wind having carried +all sounds of commotion the other way, and there were no children in the +family to come unexpectedly home bringing the news. It was when she +stepped into her own kitchen, earlier than usual, and found Barney and +Tommie there with Larry, who had accompanied them that day as visitor, +that she first heard of the fire. And the important thing to Barney and +Tommie was that their vacation had come sooner than they had hoped. +Later came Jim, stepping high from the General's praise. But his mother +thought nothing of that. Jim's ways were apt to be airy. + +But when Pat and Mike came to supper the story was told. The widow +listened with an expression of pride. And when the story and the supper +were finished she took little Jim by the hand and led him along the +tortuous path through the furniture to the family seat of honor. "Sit +there in the father's chair," she commanded. "I niver thought to be +puttin' wan of my b'ys there for foightin', but foightin's the thing +sometimes." + +This was on Tuesday. The next day the leading paper of the town came +out, and it contained a full account of little Jim's coolness and +bravery. + +"They'll be spoilin' little Jim, so they will," said the widow as she +read with glistening eyes. Then she rose to put the paper carefully away +among the few family treasures, and set about making little Jim a +wonderful pudding. If he were to be spoiled she might as well have a +hand in it. "Though maybe he won't be nayther," she said. "Him that had +that much sinse had ought to have enough to stand praisin'." + +That evening home came Andy to find his mother absorbed in the +fascinating occupation of hearing from little Jim's own lips what each +individual person had said to him during the day. + +"Well," little Jim was saying just as Andy came in, "I should think +they'd said 'most enough. I didn't do anything but keep them lubberly +boys from trampin' the girls down, and it was easy enough done, too." + +At which speech the widow perceived that, as yet, little Jim was not +particularly spoiled by all his praise. "'Twas the history book that +done it," thought the mother thankfully. "Sure and he knows he's done +foine, but he ain't been braggin' on himself much since he took to that, +I've noticed. There's books of all sorts, so there is, some for wan +thing and some for another, but it's the history book that cures the +consate." + +"We're very busy up at our house," observed Andy. And the widow could +scarcely bring herself to heed him. + +"Yes," went on Andy. "We've been baking cake to-day, and there's more to +do to-morrow. The General and Mrs. Brady are going to give little Jim a +party Friday evening. General Brady is wonderfully pleased with Jim." + +Then indeed he had his mother's attention. "A party, is it?" she said +with gratified pride. "'Tis the Gineral and Mrs. Brady that knows how to +take a body's full cup and jist run it over. I couldn't have wished +nothin' no better than that. And nobody couldn't nayther. I'll be up +to-morrow mysilf to help and the nixt day, too. Don't tell me there's +nothin' I can't be doin'. Jim can run things to home, can't you, Jim?" + +Little Jim thought he could. + +"I'll have Pat and Moike see to gettin' him a new suit to-morrow. It's +late to be gettin' him a new suit and him a-growin'; but if he can't +wear it nixt fall Barney can, and it's proud he'll be to do it, I'm +thinkin'. 'Tisn't often the nixt youngest b'y has a chance to wear a new +suit got for his brother because he done good and hadn't nothin' fit to +wear to a party, nayther. But Wennott's the town. A party for my Jim, +and at Gineral Brady's, too! Would anybody have belaved it when we come +with nothin' to the shanty? 'Tis the proudest thing that iver come to +us, but no pride could there be about it if little Jim hadn't desarved +it." + +The widow's heart was full. "Ivery b'y? as he has come along, has made +me proud," she went on. "First Pat and then Moike and then you, Andy, +with your book, and now little Jim with his foightin'. And that's what +beats me, that I should be proud of my b'y's foightin'. And I am that." + +Friday evening seemed a long way off to little Jim when he lay down on +his bed that night. He had never attended a party in his life. Andy had +spoken of cake, and, by private questioning, little Jim had discovered +that there would be ice cream. He tried to imagine what a party was +like, but having no knowledge to go on, he found the effort wearisome +and so dropped asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Little Jim had never been farther than General Brady's kitchen. It was a +kitchen of which he approved because it had no path in it. One might go +through it in a great hurry without coming to grief on some chair back, +or the footboard of the mother's bed, or the rocker of the father's +chair. Neither was one in danger of bringing up suddenly on the corner +of the table, or against the side of the stove. The younger O'Callaghans +were free from numerous bruises only because they knew their way and +proceeded with caution. There was no banging the door open suddenly at +the shanty, because there was always some article of furniture behind +the door to catch it and bang it back sharply into a boy's face. It was +upon these differences in the two kitchens that little Jim reflected +when, arrayed in the new suit, he slipped around the house and was +ushered in by Andy. + +"What's this!" cried the General, who had caught a glimpse of the +swiftly scudding little figure as it rounded the corner. "What's this!" +and he stood smiling at the door that opened from the back of the hall +into the kitchen. "The hero of the hour coming in by the back door. This +will never do, Jim. Come with me." + +Bravely little Jim went forward. He stepped into the hall close behind +the General, and suddenly glanced down. He could hardly believe his +ears. Was he growing deaf? There walked the General ahead of him, and +little Jim could not hear a footfall, neither could he hear his own +tread. + +But little Jim said nothing. They were now come to the hall tree, and +the General himself helped his guest off with his overcoat and hung it +beside his own. And as for little Jim, he could hang up his own cap when +his host showed him where. + +Then in through the parlor door they went and on through the folding +doors into the sitting-room where Mrs. Brady stood among her plants. She +had just cut two lovely roses from the same bush, and one she pinned on +her husband's coat and the other on little Jim's jacket. + +"Parties is queer," thought little Jim, "but they're nice." + +For Mrs. Brady, in her quiet way, was contriving to let the boy +understand that she thought exceedingly well of him. It began to grow +dusk, but it was not yet so dark that little Jim failed to see Pat and +Mike come in and run lightly up the stairs. And then there was a tramp +of feet outside, the doorbell rang, and as the electric light flooded +the house, Andy opened the front door and in trooped boys and girls. + +Little Jim was amazed. Not one came into the parlor, but Andy sent them +all upstairs. + +"Is them boys and girls the party?" he asked quickly of Mrs. Brady. + +"Yes, Jim," was the kind answer. "Your party." + +Little Jim reflected. "I'd best not be lickin' any of the boys then this +evenin'?" And he turned inquiring eyes on Mrs. Brady. + +Mrs. Brady smiled. "No, Jim," she replied. "You must try to please them +in every way that you can, and make them enjoy themselves." + +"Let 'em do just as they're a moind to, and not raise a fuss about it?" + +"Yes." + +Little Jim straightened himself. "I never seen no parties before," he +said, "but I guess I can run it." + +And then downstairs came the guests and into the parlor to shake hands +with General and Mrs. Brady and Jim. The gay company spread themselves +through the parlor and sitting-room. They chattered, they laughed, they +got up from their seats and sat down again, and all the time little Jim +had a keen eye upon them. He had never before seen little girls dressed +so, and he noticed that every boy had a flower on his jacket. + +And then little Jim bestirred himself. He was here, there, and +everywhere. Did a girl suggest a game, Jim so engineered that the whole +company were soon engaged in it, and he himself was the gayest player of +all. Not once did he suggest anything. But often he slipped up to Mrs. +Brady or the General and did what he had never done before in his +life--asked advice. + +"Am I runnin' it right?" he would whisper in Mrs. Brady's ear; and +murmur apologetically to the General, "I never seen no parties before." + +"And how do you like parties, Jim?" asked the General indulgently. + +"I think there's nothin' to equal 'em," was the fervent answer. And then +away went the young host. + +At half-past nine Andy appeared at the hall door. Jim saw him and his +heart sank. Was the party over? He feared so, since Mrs. Brady, followed +by the General, went out of the room. But in a moment the General came +back to the doorway. The guests seemed to understand, for a sudden hush +fell on the talkative tongues. The General saw Jim's uncertain +expression and beckoned to him. + +"We are going out to supper," he said. "Go ask Annie Jamieson to walk +out with you." + +Jim obeyed promptly. All at once he remembered the cake and ice cream. +His heart swelled with pride as he led the pretty little girl across the +hall and into the dining-room. And there were Pat and Mike and Andy +showing the guests to their places and prepared to wait upon them. And +if they beamed upon little Jim, he beamed back with interest. He was +supremely happy. How glad he was that Mike had taught him Mrs. Brady's +way of laying the table, and how to eat properly! He thought of his +mother and wished that she might see him. But she was at home caring for +Barney and Tommie and Larry. + +"Sure and I can't lave 'em by thimsilves in the evenin'. Something +moight happen to 'em," said this faithful mother. + +Such food Jim had not tasted before, but he ate sparingly. He was too +happy to eat, for little Jim, although extremely fond of pudding, was no +glutton. There he sat with his auburn hair on end, his blue eyes bright +and shining, smiles and grave looks chasing themselves over his face +till the General was prouder of him than ever. + +"I'm not sure but he's _the_ O'Callaghan," he told his wife, when +the children had gone back to the parlor for a final game before the +party should break up. "But it is that mother of his and his older +brothers who have brought him on." + +Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Pat and Mike and Andy washed the dishes and +put things to rights with three hearts full of pride in little Jim. + +"To think the mother was afraid he would turn out an agitator!" said +Pat. + +"This night settles that," responded Mike. "He's more likely to turn out +a society man. He'll be a credit to us all." + +At last the guests were gone. And then for the first time little Jim's +eyes examined with keen scrutiny the pretty rooms, while the General and +Mrs. Brady kept silence, content to observe him with affectionate +interest. Finally the boy came back from things to people, and he came +with a sigh. + +"Have you enjoyed yourself?" asked the General, smiling. + +"Yes, sir. I never had such a toime before in my loife. 'Tis parties as +are the thing." He paused and then asked, "How will I be goin' at it to +get me a house like this?" + +And then the General looked astonished. He had not yet fully measured +little Jim's ambition that stopped at nothing. Hitherto it had been that +pernicious ambition that desires, and at the same time, lazily refuses +to put forth the exertion necessary to attain, or it had been that other +scarcely less reprehensible ambition that exerts itself simply to +outshine others, and Mrs. O'Callaghan had had good cause to be anxious +about Jim. Tonight it was the right sort of ambition, backed by a +remarkably strong will and boundless energy. He looked up at the General +with confidence and waited to be told just how he could get such a house +for himself. + +The General gazed down into the clear, unashamed depths of little Jim's +blue eyes. The attitude of the O'Callaghan's toward him always touched +him. His money had nothing to do with it, nor had his superior social +position. It was he himself that the O'Callaghans respected, admired, +loved and venerated, and this without in the least abating their own +self-respect and independence. It was like being the head of a clan, the +General told himself, and he liked it. So now he answered with his hand +on little Jim's shoulder, "Work, my boy, and study, work and study." + +"And is that all?" questioned Jim disappointedly. "Sure and that's like +my mother tellin' me dustin' and dishwashin' was my two first steps." + +"Well, they were your first steps, Jim, because they were the duties +that lay nearest you. But it will take more than work and study, after +all." + +"I thought it would, sir. This is an awful nice house." + +"Would you like to walk upstairs and look about?" asked the General. + +"I would," was the eager answer. + +So the General and Mrs. Brady and Jim went up. + +"This is the sort of a room for my mother," declared little Jim, after +he had carefully examined the large guest chamber. "Pat and Mike got her +the summer kitchen, but I'll be gettin' her a whole house, so I will. +Sleepin' in the kitchen will do for them that likes it. And now what's +the rest of it besides work and study?" + +"Have you ever seen any poor boys smoke cigars, Jim?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And cigarettes?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And pipes?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And drink beer?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And whisky?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And chew tobacco?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Those are the boys who, when they are men, are going to be poor. Mark +that, Jim. They are going to be poor." + +"They won't have any house like this?" + +"Not unless somebody who has worked hard gives it to them, or unless +they cheat for it, Jim." + +"Huh!" said Jim. "I'm down on cheatin'. I'll lick any boy that cheats me +or tries to, and I don't want nobody to give me nothin'." And with that +little Jim cooled down to pursue his former train of thought. + +"And if I work and study and let them things alone I can have a house +like this some day?" + +"Yes, Jim, if some misfortune does not befall you, like a long sickness +in the family, or an accident to you." + +"I'm goin' to try for it," declared Jim with decision. "Them that would +rather have cigars and such than a nice house like this can have 'em, +and it's little sense they've got, too. I'll take the house." + +The General laughed. "You will take it, Jim, I don't doubt," he said. +"Come to me whenever you wish to ask any questions, and I will answer +them if I can." + +"I will, sir," replied little Jim. "And when you want me to I'll wash +your dishes. I said once I wouldn't, but now I will." + +"Thank you, Jim," responded the General. + +Peppery, headstrong little Jim went home that night walking very erect. +Pat and Mike were one on each side of him, but he hardly knew it, he was +so busy looking forward to the time when he should have a house like the +General's, when his mother would pin a flower on his coat, and he should +give parties, and as many of them as he chose. + +[Illustration: "Pat and Mike were one on each side of him."] + +And of all these plans his mother heard with wonder and astonishment. + +"Your party's made a man of you, Jim," said the widow at last. "I'd +niver have thought of a party doin' it, nayther, though I was wantin' it +done bad. Your father was the man as loiked noice things, and he'd have +got 'em, too, if sickness hadn't come to him." + +And now little Jim's reward had come. At last his mother had said he was +like his father. He was as good as Pat and Mike and Andy, and his heart +swelled. + +"But, Jim, dear, you'd be gettin' your house quicker if we was all to +help toward it." + +"And then 'twouldn't be mine," objected Jim. + +"No more it wouldn't," assented Mrs. O'Callaghan, "but 'twould be better +than livin' in the shanty years and years. You don't want to kape livin' +here till you have a foine house loike the Gineral's, do you, Jim?" + +"No," reluctantly answered the little fellow, glancing about him. + +"I knowed you didn't. For sure you're not the wan to let your ambition +run away with your sinse. A neat little house, now, with only two b'ys +to a bedroom and wan bedroom for me--what do you say to it, Jim?" + +Then and there it was settled, and that night each boy had a different +dream about the neat little house to be--Jim's, of course, being the +most extravagant. That week the first five dollars toward it was +deposited with the General. + +"And I'll be keepin' a sharp lookout on Barney and Tommie," was Jim's +unasked promise to his mother. "You've no idea what little chaps smoke +them cigarettes. I can fix it. I'll just be lettin' the boys know that +every wan of 'em that helps Barney and Tommie to wan of them things will +get a lickin' from me." + +"Is that the best way, do you think, Jim?" + +"Sure and I know it is. I've seen them big boys givin' 'em to the little +wans, particular to them as their folks don't want to use 'em. The +General's down on them things, and Barney and Tommie shan't have 'em." + +"Five dollars in the bank!" exclaimed the widow. She was surrounded by +her eldest four sons, for it was seven o'clock in the morning. "Two +years we've been in town, and them two years has put all four of you +where I'm proud of you. All four of you has sat in the father's chair +for good deeds done. What I'm thinkin' is, will Barney and Tommie and +Larry sit there, too, when their turn comes?" + +"They will that!" declared Jim with authority. + +"Of course they will, mother," encouraged Pat. + +"They are father's boys, too," said Andy. + +"And _your_ boys, mother. Where else would your boys sit?" asked +Mike. + +And then the widow smiled. "I belave you'll ivery wan of you come to +good," she said. "There's small bad ahead of b'ys that has a bit of +heartsome blarney for their mother, and love in their eyes to back their +words. Some has farms and money. But if any one would be tellin' of my +riches, sure all they've got to say is, 'The Widow O'Callaghan's b'ys.'" + +THE END. + + + + + + +_Good Reasons for the Popularity of_ + +THE + +Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + +It has succeeded by its own sterling merit and without the assistance of +exaggerated advertising, and a popularity of this kind is always +permanent. The charm of the book lies in the human interest of the +sympathetically told story; its value in the excellent lessons that are +suggested to the youthful mind in the most unobtrusive manner. Nothing +is so distasteful to a healthy youngster as an overdose of obvious moral +suasion in his fiction. + +EXPERT TESTIMONY + +_Principal Ferris, of the Ferris Institute, Michigan, expresses +somewhat the same idea in a letter to the publishers_: "I bought the +book and read it myself, then read it to my ten-year-old boy. He was +captivated. I then tried it on my school of 600 students--relatively +mature people. They were delighted. 'Widow O'Callaghan's Boys' is an +exceptional book. It is entirely free from the weaknesses of the +ordinary Sunday school book. The methods used by the Widow O'Callaghan +in training her boys are good methods for training boys in the school +room. The truth of the matter is the book contains first-class pedagogy. +There are comparatively few first-class juvenile books. 'Widow +O'Callaghan's Boys' is a jewel. It is worthy of being classed as +first-class literature." + +A.C. McCLURG & CO. PUBLISHERS + +_Newspaper Opinions of_ + + +The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + +"It is a story of sturdy, level-headed effort to meet the world on its +own rather severe terms, and to win from it success and progress. No +strokes of miraculous good luck befall these young heroes of peace; but +they deserve what they gain, and the story is told so simply, and yet +with so much originality, that it is quite as interesting reading as are +the tales where success is won by more sensational methods. The good +sense, courage, and tact of the widow herself ought to afford +inspiration to many mothers apparently more fortunately situated. It is +a book to be heartily commended."--_Christian Register_. + +"They are but simple adventures in 'The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys,' but +they are pleasant to read of. The seven boys, whom the widow trains to +be good and useful men, are as plucky as she; and they have a good bit +of Irish loyalty as well as of the Irish brogue."--_The Dial_. + +"The brave little Irishwoman's management and encouragement of them, +amid poverty and trouble, the characters of the boys themselves, their +cheerfulness, courage, and patience, and the firm grip which they take +upon the lowest rounds of the ladder of success, are told simply and +delightfully."--_Buffalo Express_. + +"The smile of pleasure at the happy ending is one that will be accompanied +by a dimness of vision in the eyes of many readers."--_Philadelphia Press_. + + +_Newspaper Opinions of_ + +The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + +"There is many a quaint bit of humor, many a strong, sound lesson in +manliness and womanliness which must appeal to us in the telling. The +story was probably written for children, but it will interest older +people as well."--_The Living Church_. + +"The Widow O'Callaghan is the greatest philosopher since Epictetus, and +as bright and glowing as a well-cut gem."--_Topeka Capital_. + +"The refreshing thing about the book is that its dialect approximates to +the real brogue, and is not disfigured by the affected misspelling of +English words which are pronounced almost as correctly by the Irish as +by one to the tongue born."--_Detroit Journal_. + +"This is a story that will be enjoyed by readers of every age. It is +capitally written, and deals with the struggles of a brave little Irish +widow, left in poverty with seven boys, ranging in age from three to +fifteen years."--_Book News_. + +"It is one of the best books for young people which we ever have seen. +It describes the mother love, the shrewd sense, and the plucky +perseverance of an Irish widow with seven young children."--_The +Congregationalist_. + + + +_Another Use for_ + + The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys + + The following news item from the Chicago Tribune of Nov. 7 describes + a unique testimonial to the practical usefulness of a good book. "The + Widow O'Callaghan's Boys," the story referred to, is now in its eighth + edition, and seems to increase in popularity constantly: + + "Barney Ryan, 12 years old and wearing a sweater twice his size, + yesterday was sentenced by Judge Tuthill to read to his mother each + night from a book designated by the court. The boy had been arrested for + smashing a store window and stealing merchandise to the value of $200. + + "'I'll let you go, Barney,' said Judge Tuthill, 'if your mother will + buy a copy of "Mrs. O'Callaghan's Boys" and agree to make you read to + her each night from it.' + + "Mrs. Ryan, who lives at 139 Gault court, agreed to the stipulation." + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE WIDOW O'CALLAGHAN'S BOYS *** + +This file should be named twocb10.txt or twocb10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, twocb11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, twocb10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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