Mrs. M'Carty rose early on Christmas morning, her mind bewildered by
the fantastic visions of the night.
"Sure, them puddings was all a dream," she said to herself, as she
kindled her fire, "and what's the good of such dreams as that, but
just to make a body discouraged with the truth of the daytimes? But,
any how, I'll look at where I dreamed I put them, and then my mind
will be easy for me work."
More skeptical than hopeful, she went to the place where she had
hidden them, and lo! to her great joy there they were,--twelve
luscious, fruity puddings.
"And they're just bursting with richness, and begging to be ate," she
said. "It'll be a grand day for the childer, and they shall have their
fill, for it's many a long, hungry day they'll be seeing before
another Christmas."
Breakfast was never a protracted function in the M'Carty household,
but to Mrs. M'Carty, who was anxious to begin the festive preparations
which the puddings had made possible, the scanty meal seemed unusually
prolonged. Nothing but action could keep her from syndicating her
secret before the proper moment, so while the repast was in progress,
she hurried about doing, undoing, and doing over again, various
household tasks. Finally Granny M'Carty, who had noticed Bridget's
restlessness, exclaimed:
"Are ye crazy, then, Bridget M'Carty? It's the third time this day
ye've spread me bed, and ye'll not lave a whole fither in me pillow
with yer senseless beatin's."
"Well," said Mrs. M'Carty, ceasing from her labor, "if you're done
with your breakfast, listen to me. Praise to the good Saint Antony, I
found a ten-cent piece yesterday, I'd been saving that long I forgot I
had it entirely, and with the help of Grandad's two lucky pennies he
was never intending to spend,--may the saints spare him long to
us,--I've a stick of candy apiece for the whole of you."
[Illustration: "'A STICK OF CANDY APIECE'"]
"Hoorooh!" shouted all the little McCartys in chorus.
"Blessin's on the good Saint Antony!" said Grandad Rafferty, beaming
on the excited children.
"Stop yer sphakin' with such a noise!" cried Granny. "Them racketin's
would deafen the saints themselves, so they would."
"Then would them saints be getting ear-trumpets like Tim Barney's
grandmother?" queried little Norah, climbing on the back of Granny's
chair and peering over her shoulder.
"Go along with yez, an' don't be askin' such irriverent questions, an'
kape yerself from the back of me chair, a-shakin' me roometiz all over
me."
Bridget thumped on the table for quiet and proceeded to distribute the
sticks of candy, each wrapped in a separate piece of paper. Grandad
unrolled the paper and eyed his stick of candy lovingly.
"Troth, it's peppermint," he said, "an' there's nothin' like
peppermint to comfort a body's stomick. It's that long since I tasted
it, I'd clane forgot how it looked, bedad."
"Well, Bridget M'Carty," said Granny M'Carty, "It's ye that might have
minded me health an' remembered that lemin with roometiz is like
pourin' ile on fire. Ye must know, if ye have any sense,--which I
misdoubt,--that roometiz hates lemin as bad as the devil hates holy
wather," and she sniffed contemptuously.
"Never mind that, Granny," said Grandad. "Bridget rolled up them candy
and never took note of the kinds, so there'd be no strivin' with the
childers. I'll take yer lemin an' ye're welcome to me peppermint.
'Twill warm yer stomick an' yer feelin's, an' acushla machree, it's
not so hard on the teeth ayther," and he surrendered his candy with a
charming smile.
"Me teeth are as good as yours any day," retorted Granny, but she did
not hesitate to make the exchange. However, she inspected the candy
carefully and wiped it on the corner of her shawl before applying it
to her mouth.
"Now, then," said Mrs. M'Carty, after the candy had disappeared,
"listen while I do be telling you the order of the day. You boys,
Denny and Terence, slip across to the pile of lumber handy on the
tow-path, and bring me back three wide boards. We'll borry them for a
table, and take them back when we're done. My family is all going to
sit down to once to their Christmas dinner, the same as them rich
folks do on the avenue. And there'll be a place for me poor Michael,
that was and isn't. Run along now, boys, and pick clean ones, and you,
Katy and Norah, wash the dishes, and when the table is fixed you can
all go on the avenue and look in the windys, but mind you're home when
the bells are ringing for twelve."
Their tasks were quickly finished, and eight little M'Cartys set off
for their outing, two-year-old Patsy being bestowed in a box nailed
on an old sled, and drawn by the others in turn. Grandad Rafferty
watched them until they were out of sight and sound.
"It's a fine time they'll be afther havin'," he said as he took little
Ellen on his knee and settled himself comfortably in his chair,--or as
comfortably as the unwonted stiffness of shirt and neckcloth would
permit. Then he whispered a wonderful story to the baby, and though
she could not understand a word, it served its purpose, for presently
the little head nodded and the big blue eyes closed in slumber.
Granny M'Carty, who from the inner room had herself been observing the
departure of her grandchildren toward the habitations of affluence,
now returned to her seat by the fire.
"'Tis I would never let them childer go wanderin' off like that, with
a chance of their never comin' home agin," she commented, "but
annyhow it'll be sthill for a bit."
The children safely out of the way, Mrs. M'Carty began at once her
arrangements for the feature of the day,--the Christmas dinner so
bountifully provided with dessert.
She took from her chest her one linen table cloth, woven in a most
elaborate design of shamrocks. Her husband had seen and admired the
pattern, displayed in a shop window, one St. Patrick's Day, and it
being in the first year of his marriage, when there was but Bridget to
share his purse, he had bought the cloth and given it to her for a
present. The occasions which had been deemed worthy so beautiful a
table-cover, had been few and far removed, so the linen was "every bit
as good as new."
"You're fine enough for the queen's use," said Mrs. M'Carty,
apostrophizing the cloth as she spread it carefully on her improvised
dining-table and smoothed its snowy folds. "Sure, you're a trifle
small for me big table, so I'll be putting you in the middle, and
piecing you out at the two ends with me red and white Sunday
table-cloths that ain't seen the daylight since we came to this sorry
hole of a place, for it's not oilcloth that the M'Cartys shall be
eating their dinner on this day."
The linen cloth being spread in the centre of the table and
supplemented at either end with a "red Sunday table-cloth" of more
prosperous days, Mrs. M'Carty took from the top shelf in the cupboard
her "set of flowered dishes"--another early marital gift. Though cheap
in quality, and the plates, cups, etc., in half-dozens instead of
dozens, these dishes had been Mrs. M'Carty's special pride ever since
Michael had proudly bestowed them upon her.
"Look, Biddy, me darlint," he had said. "I've brought you as grand a
lot of dishes as ever I saw, and do you mind them posies they have?
They're like the roses growing forninst Father Kelly's wall, where I
used to meet you when you were Biddy Rafferty."
"Go along wid yer foolishness, Michael M'Carty," was Bridget's reply,
but she had cherished the gift above all her other possessions, and
like the table-cloth, the dishes were used but seldom.
"Bridget M'Carty!" cried Granny, when she saw Bridget setting out the
dishes, "are ye usin' them dishes me poor b'y bought with his hard
earnin's? I'd think ye'd more respect for Michael than to set out them
fine plates to be broken by them careless haythins."
But Bridget assured Granny she would keep watch over the precious
ware, and went on with her preparations as zealously as though she
were preparing a banquet for noble folk. She had a small package of
tea which had been given her by one of the conductors for whom she
washed. He was an Irish boy lately come from the old country, and
Mrs. M'Carty's sympathy for his homesickness had won from him this
Christmas remembrance. The tea was a most welcome gift, for her
finances had not permitted her to buy this beverage for many days. She
had not mentioned it, for she wished to have as many surprises as
possible, for, thought she, "Surprises is about all they'll be
getting."
Granny had followed her daughter-in-law's movements with a lofty,
scornful look, but when she saw her take down the old brown teapot and
give it a washing, she could not refrain from a question.
"Is it tay ye're afther havin'?" she asked, almost forgetting herself
at the thought and speaking in an amiable tone.
"Yes, Granny, but I was intending it for a surprise."
"Wan time is as good as another for a surprise," said Granny. "If it's
a good one it gives a body somethin' pleasant to be thinkin' about,
an' if it's a bad one, then the sooner ye're told the sooner ye do be
gettin' over it."
The animated look in Granny's eyes showed that, in her opinion, this
surprise was a good one, and Grandad Rafferty opened his eyes in
astonishment when he heard her crooning a bit of the "Low-backed Car."
"It's the peppermint did it," said he to himself, "an' may the saints
kape it lastin' till bedtime."
By noon the banqueting-hall of the M'Cartys presented a most festal
appearance. The flowered dishes were displayed to the best advantage,
and the red cotton table-cloths served the purpose of a color scheme.
The baked apples adorned the centre of the table, flanked at either
side by plates of bread. The oven door stood ajar, disclosing two
dishes of steaming potatoes waiting to be transferred to the table,
and later to the plates and stomachs of the juvenile M'Cartys.
When the twelve o'clock bells began to ring, Bridget poured the water
over the tea and set the teapot over the fire, where the beverage
immediately began boiling with a vigor that would have appalled an
epicurean taste. Granny M'Carty was moved up to the centre of the
table on one side, and Grandad Rafferty was installed opposite. Little
Ellen, in the charge of her grandfather, immediately preempted a
spoon, and in her enjoyment of the new plaything brought it down with
a smart rap on one of the plates.
"I told yez ye'd be afther havin' ev'ry last one of them dishes
broke," scolded Granny. "Ye're that extravagant with yer things,
Bridget M'Carty, it's no wonder ye went an' lost yer husband. An'
where's them childers that was to be comin' home at twilve? Sure they
never do as they're bid unless the devil's afther them, an' if
they're not here soon the tay will be sphoiled entirely," and she
sniffed the air anxiously.
At this critical moment the door, true to its habit, sprung open, and
the eight laughing, panting, ruddy M'Carty heirs and heiresses filled
the little room to overflowing. Their wraps were thrown aside and they
were about to make a grand rush for the table when Mrs. M'Carty
interposed.
"Never in me life have I see worse manners since me eyes had the
misfortune to rest on them Dooleys down the tow-path. You're patterns
in manners when you're asleep, but where do you keep your decency
daytimes? Go to the shed and show yourselves to the water and soap,
and don't be keeping me dinner waiting long, either."
Bang, thump, splash, grunt, gurgle, constituted the sign audible of
the little M'Cartys' cleansing. The hands and faces were polished, the
comb hastily passed round, and in they trooped, this time more
quietly, as if they had scrubbed off some of their boisterous
spirits.
Norah had found a bit of holly, with which she adorned the dish of
baked apples, while Terence, with much effort, pulled from his pocket
a package wrapped in pink paper and laid it with an important air on
Granny's plate.
"Merry Christmas, with a present for you, Granny," he said.
"What's that you've been buying?" said Mrs. M'Carty, "and you with no
money to buy nothing with."
"I didn't buy it," said Terence.
"I'll not have anythin' to do with stholen stuff, ye wicked craytur,"
exclaimed Granny, pushing the offending package away from her.
"I didn't steal it, neither," said Terence, proudly. "I leave such
works for them Dooleys," and he held his head aloft and went over by
his mother.
"I believe you, Terence, my boy," said Mrs. M'Carty. "But wherever did
you get it?"
"He axed for it," interposed Katy. "We were that cold, and when we
came to a drug-store, Terence, says he, 'Let's slip in and get warm
and smell all them perfoomery and things.' And the drug-store man
says, 'What does we be wanting,' and Terence says, 'We just came in to
get warm, but we'd buy something if we had the money.' 'What would you
buy?' said the man, and Terence says, 'Perfoomery for my mother, and
stuff to cure Granny's roometiz.' 'Is that all ye want?' says the man;
'then get your fingers warm and take these to your mother and Granny,
with a merry Christmas.'"
"And here's your perfoomery," cried Terence, handing a smaller pink
package to his mother, who exclaimed over it with delight.
"Sure, it's better than flowers, and far more lasting," she said,
"and it's glad I am you brought it."
"I can't read this writin' at all, at all. The sphellin' is too small
for me eyes," said Granny, once more becoming the centre of interest.
Mrs. M'Carty took the bottle and read aloud the directions.
"And you're to take a teaspoonful after each meal," she concluded.
"Humph!" snorted Granny. "An' does that drug-store man lay out to
furnish me with the meals? I'd like to be told that now. Me that
hasn't had a decint bit since ye let me poor Michael go off and get
drownded in the cold wather."
The clatter attendant on the seating of the children at the table
prevented the latter part of Granny's speech from being heard. The
smaller M'Cartys were placed either side of Grandad, the older ones
being seated by Granny. The potatoes were transferred to the board,
and Mrs. M'Carty, taking the little Ellen, sat down at the nominal
foot of the table, opposite the empty place set in memory of her
husband. For awhile naught was spoken save only the few occasional
words necessary in asking for more food. Bridget sipped a little tea,
but the sight of the vacant chair quite destroyed her appetite. She
looked thin and care-worn, and very unlike the brave wife who with
cheery words had sped her husband on his unlucky voyage.
When the children's appetites were somewhat appeased, their tongues
began to fly as they recounted the morning adventures,--the sights,
the sounds, and all the little incidents which had gone to make up a
happy morning.
Finally Bridget rapped on the table for silence.
"Whist again every last one of you while I make a request. Terence, me
lad, slip over to the wood-box and bring whatever you find there.
It's for your Grandad."
Terence quickly obeyed, while the others looked on in eager
expectance. He returned with a round package wrapped in tissue and
lace-trimmed paper and set it before Grandad, who undid it with
surprising alacrity.
"May the saints presarve us!" he exclaimed. "If it isn't as fine a
puddin' as my old eyes ever see in me life."
"Me, me!" cried little Patsy, "me wants a puddin'."
"Yes, me little Patsy," said Grandad, "ye shall have a bite as soon as
my knife can cut it. There now, sit down, all of yez, till I have a
chance at it,"--for the children were crowding about the old man to
get a glimpse of the beautiful pudding. But before his knife had so
much as touched it, Bridget interposed.
"Hold a bit," she said. "Katy, darling, run to the shed and look
under the wash-tub and bring the contents to Granny."
Katy fairly flew to the shed and returned bearing aloft a package
which in size, shape, and wrappings was identical with that which had
just been set before Grandad. Granny opened it, displaying the mate to
Grandad's pudding.
"Whee, whee!" cried little Patsy. "Me wants it! Me wants it!"
But Bridget was ready with a third order.
"Norah, my jewel, you'll likely find something to your credit forninst
the dishpan."
Norah lifted the dishpan and in a trice pudding number three was
standing beside its predecessors.
"I'll bet yer, kids," said Terence, the ready spokesman, "there's a
pudding for every last one of us. Let's get busy and hunt. Sure, I see
something under the stove."
Mrs. M'Carty let them hunt. They preferred this, and the fun ran high
as one pudding after another was discovered. The house, though so
small, held more hiding-places than one would have supposed, and it
was some time before the last pudding consented to be found. Mrs.
M'Carty allowed each one to cut his pudding and eat a generous
portion. To more fastidious palates, cold plum pudding without sauce
might have seemed a doubtful luxury, but to the little M'Cartys, who
never before had tasted the dainty, the plum puddings were a veritable
"feast of Lucullus." Baby Ellen was given a crumb or two, and she
goo-ed, and gurgled, and smiled on them all as if she thought herself
the cause of all this festivity.
[Illustration: "MRS. M'CARTY LET THEM HUNT"]
"Praise the blessid saints," said Grandad, "they didn't forget us
this Christmas day, an' these are grand puddin's."
"Grand indade," replied Granny. "If Bridget M'Carty had said her
prayers proper-like, it's other things besides puddin's she would have
asked the saints for, but she's that foolish, she can't keep two words
in her head to once. When she thinks puddin's, she just thinks
puddin's, an' not aven the sauce, bedad."
"Annyhow, Granny, ye must say it was fine puddin's she did be
thinkin'."
"Av course they're fine, but there's nothin' but puddin's, an' I have
to ate them or be stharvin', I expect," and Granny helped herself to
the third piece and passed her cup to Bridget to be filled the fourth
time.
While the puddings were being eaten Mrs. M'Carty told the tale of the
mysterious presents. So dramatic was her exposition of the twelve
knocks that had been the precursors of the twelve puddings that when,
as she finished, there came a loud and emphatic knock at the door,
Grandad Rafferty, his mind on Bridget's story, ejaculated:
"Another puddin'!"
[Illustration: "'IT'S MY MICHAEL,--MY HEART OF THE WORLD'"]
"Annuzzer puddin'!" lisped little Patsy.
"May the saints forgit to sind us another puddin'!" said Granny
M'Carty.
Before any one had thought to open the door, it opened from without,
and there stood, looking in at the group, a tall, haggard, weary man.
"Holy Virgin save us, it's Michael's ghost!" cried Granny, covering
her face with her hands.
For a full minute the inmates of the shanty and the man at the door
stared at each other. Then Mrs. M'Carty heard the one word:
"Bridget!"
It was enough. Quite forgetting little Ellen, who tumbled
unceremoniously to the floor, Mrs. M'Carty sprang from her chair.
"It's no ghost! It's no ghost!" she cried, sobbing and laughing. "It's
my Michael,--my heart of the world,--my Michael,--come back from the
dead," and she threw herself into his arms.
Exclamations and explanations were now the order of the day. Mrs.
M'Carty in her Christmas lavishness had used all of the tea, but she
reheated the contents of the teapot and cut a slice of pudding for her
husband, but Michael, established in his erstwhile empty place at the
table, was too happy for either eating or drinking.
The dinner lasted as long as did that of any of "swelldom's four
hundred," for one cannot relate in a few moments the happenings of
months, nor can so wonderful a gift as that of Katrina Baumgaertner be
passed over with a few words.
When the tale of the puddings was ended Michael, with a merry twinkle
in his eye, said to Norah:
"Norah, my jewel, be lookin' outside the door there, and see what you
can be after findin'."
Eight little M'Cartys ran to the door. A scramble, a noisy return, and
down on the table descended the thirteenth pudding.
* * * * *
At dusk Granny M'Carty and Grandad Rafferty sat in their accustomed
places by the fire. Baby Ellen was fast asleep in Grandad's arms. The
children were out for a run in the fresh air, and Bridget and Michael
were enjoying a few moments of happy converse together in the lean-to.
Grandad rocked gently to and fro, nodding and smiling to himself as if
his thoughts were very pleasant company. The sight of his cheerful
face, dimly seen by the small lamp, was too much for Granny.
"It's meself," she began, "as can sit here with never a soul to be
shpakin' to me, an' ev'ry one of me bones and nerves achin' with the
excitemint of this day; an' it's ye, Misther Rafferty, that can sit
there grinnin' and noddin' like a crazy loon. It's them that has a
fine consait of themselves that gets along in this world, I mind. An'
look at them puddin's,--"
"Puddin's? Puddin's?" said Grandad, rousing from his reverie and
looking about as if he expected to see a second installment.
"Yes, puddin's!" mimicked Granny. "What's to be done with the leavin's
of them thirteen puddin's, the unlucky things?"
"Mrs. M'Carty, don't be callin' them puddin's unlucky. Sure, 'twas the
thirteenth puddin' that let Michael be findin' his lost family. Think
no more of them. Remember yer Michael that couldn't sthay lost, an'
it's because ye was so lucky to be namin' him afther the good saint.
Saint Michael an' the old dragon, ye mind,--"
"An' is it meself ye're afther callin' an old dragon?" almost screamed
Granny.
"Indade and indade, Mrs. M'Carty," began Grandad, regretting his
unfortunate allusion to the dragon, and anxious to avert the impending
tirade, "I'm not callin' ye an old dragon, at all, at all. It's--it's
yer roometiz I mane. Yes, sure, it's that is the old dragon, an'
Michael will fight it for yez, an' I know he'll conquer it entirely,
just as sure as I know there was luck in them thirteen puddin's. An'
Granny," he went on, growing still more Utopian in his predictions,
"ye'll soon be walkin' 'round gay as a cricket, with never an ache or
a pain to be throublin' yez."
"Are ye sure of all that, Misther Rafferty?" asked Granny eagerly.
Grandad had conjured up too blissful a vision for even her gloomy
spirits to withstand.
"Sure? Av course I'm sure!" answered Grandad promptly, and pounded his
chair with emphasis. "It's as good as done this minit, an' there's
such good times comin' for all of us, it's not aven the quane we'll be
envyin'."
Granny sat for a few moments in silence. Then she turned to Grandad.
"An' did ye mind, Misther Rafferty," she said with a little
brightness, "did ye mind, I say, that Michael had the gold ring on his
finger?"
"I did that," answered Grandad. "Me two eyes took sight of it as soon
as ever he sthirred his hand, an' it was shinin' as bright as ever it
was before he went an' got drownded. An' that's another sign of good
times comin' for us. An' listen, Mrs. M'Carty, it's for yer Michael
bein' ev'ry bit as good as gold himself, that them saints went to all
the throuble of undrownding him an' bringin' him back to us that nades
him."
And for once Granny smilingly agreed.