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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys, by Gulielma Zollinger
+
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+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
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+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
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+
+
+
+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
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