The summer was not ended before all the railroad men knew about Johnny
O'Callahan's wedding and all his good fortune. They boarded at the
Ryans' at first, but late in the evenings Johnny and his wife were at
work, building as if they were birds. First, there was a shed with a
broad counter for the cakes, and a table or two, and the boys did not
fail to notice that Nora had a good sisterly work-basket ready, and was
quick to see that a useful button was off or a stitch needed. The next
fortnight saw a room added to this, where Nora had her own stove, and
cooking went on steadily. Then there was another room with white
muslin curtains at the windows, and scarlet-runner beans made haste to
twine themselves to a line of strings for shade. Johnny would unload a
few feet of clean pine boards from the freight train, and within a day
or two they seemed to be turned into a wing of the small castle by some
easy magic. The boys used to lay wagers and keep watch, and there was
a cheer out of the engine-cab and all along the platforms one day when
a tidy sty first appeared and a neat pig poked his nose through the
fence of it. The buns and biscuits grew famous; customers sent for
them from the towns up and down the long railroad line, and the story
of thrifty, kind-hearted little Nora and her steady young husband was
known to a surprising number of persons. When the branch road was
begun, Nora and Johnny took a few of their particular friends to board,
and business was further increased. On Sunday they always went into
town to mass and visited their uncles and aunts and Johnny's sister.
Nora never said that she was tired, and almost never was cross. She
counted her money every Saturday night, and took it to Uncle Patsy to
put into the bank. She had long talks about her mother with Uncle
Patsy, and he always wrote home for her when she had no time. Many a
pound went across the sea in the letters, and so another summer came;
and one morning when Johnny's train stopped, Nora stood at the door of
the little house and held a baby in her arms for all the boys to see.
She was white as a ghost and as happy as a queen. "I 'll be making the
buns again pretty soon," she cried cheerfully. "Have courage, boys; 't
won't be long first; this one 'll be selling them for me on the Flying
Aigle, don't you forget it!" And there was a great ringing of the
engine-bell a moment after, when the train started.