A RETURN.
Affairs were much in this posture, when the widow M'Gurk was one day
perplexed by the occurrence of two small incidents. In the first place,
as she was starting on an expedition to the Town she saw at a little
distance something run across the road which looked uncommonly like the
Patmans' black cat Tib. Lisconnel owns no other cats for which she might
have mistaken it; still, as she was puzzled to think how the creature
should have hidden itself away for more than a fortnight, she concluded
that she had been deceived by some fluttering bird or glancing shadow.
In the next place, she happened in the Town upon one Larry Donnelly, who
in the course of conversation remarked: "So you've that young Patman
back wid yous agin. What took him to be leggin' off wid himself that
way?"
"And what put that in your head at all?" said the widow. "Light nor
sight we've seen of him, or a one of them, or likely to. It's off out of
the counthry he is belike, and he after robbin' his ould father, that's
niver done talkin' foolish about him, and lavin' his innicent child to
go starvin' into the Union--bad luck to him." She found a free
expression of her sentiments rather refreshing after the restrictions
under which she was placed at home.
"Well now," said Donnelly, "I'd ha' bet me best brogues I seen that chap
a couple of nights ago streelin' along the road down about our place;
but 'twas darkish enough, and I might aisy be mistook."
The widow pondered much over this statement on her homeward way, but had
the forbearance to say nothing about it. She was still undecided whether
or no she would communicate it to anybody, when, next morning, on her
way for a can of water, she saw the black cat, unmistakable this time,
run across the road, and, as on the day before, make off over the bog
towards the little river. Widow M'Gurk stood staring after it for a few
minutes, and came to a resolution. Then she looked about her, and was
aware of Andy Sheridan's head leaning against his doorpost. Of Andy her
opinion was, as we have seen, rather low, but she could descry no other
person available for her purpose, so she called to him: "Andy, lad, I'm
goin' after me two pullets that's strayed on me; come and be givin' me a
hand." Andy lounged over to her goodnaturedly, and they turned into the
bog, where Ody Rafferty presently joined them. The widow thought her
fowl might be among the broken ground, where the stream runs at the back
of the Knockawn, and the three went in that direction. It was a mild
soft grey morning, and they met with neither stir nor sound, till they
came abruptly upon a grassy hollow, shut in by furzy banks, and fronted
by the running water, and then the widow, who alone had been expecting
the unexpected, uttered a suppressed screech, and said: "Och, boys dear,
goodness gracious guide us!"
What they saw was the figure of a man in a long great-coat, "crooched
all of a hape" under the bank. Near him were ranged in a row half a
dozen oranges, strikin' up a wonderful golden glow. A small grimy scrap
of paper was spread out near them, covered with several piles of
shillings and pennies, and a silver thimble. Beside these Tib the black
cat sat severely tucked up, apparently dissatisfied, and irked by the
situation. At the widow's exclamation the man raised his head, and was
seen to be Tom Patman, looking haggard and dazed, and as hollow-eyed as
little Katty herself. Widow M'Gurk and Ody and Andy stood in a line
facing him.
"Whethen now, Tom Patman," said Ody, "and what might _you_ be doin' wid
yourself?"
"I'm sittin' here," said Tom.
"Och musha, tell us somethin' we don't know then. Sittin' there you are,
sure enough, but what the mischief are you after, might I politefully
ax? or what you mane _by_ it at all at all?"
"I'm sittin' here," said Tom again, "and starvin' I am; and sittin' and
starvin' I'll be morebetoken till the ind of me ould life. Sure what
else 'ud I be doin', and meself to thank for it, wid niver a sowl left
belongin' me in the mortal world, nor a place to be goin' to?"
"Well tub-be sure," said Mrs. M'Gurk, "if that talk doesn't bate all
that iver I heard! And himself after trapesin' off as permisc-yis as an
ould hin that won't sit on her eggs, and lavin' his own flesh and blood
behind him as if they were the dust on the road. And then he ups and
gives chat about niver a sowl bein' left him."
"'Twas Tishy--bad cess to her," said Tom. "Och, but it's the
mischievious ould divil-skins is Tishy M'Crum, and it's herself stirred
up Martha, that wouldn't be too bad altogether if she'd be let alone,
till the two of them had me torminted wid tellin' me th' ould man had
pots of money he'd niver spend as long as he had us to be livin' on; and
that we'd all do a dale better if some of us slipped away aisy widout
risin' a row, and left him for a bit, while we'd be sellin' Martha's
things, and seein' about gettin' into a dacint little place, instid of
the whole of us to be starvin' alive up at Lisconnel, that's nothin'
more than a bog bewitched; and he after lettin' us be sold up, they
said, and all the while ownin' mints of money, so that we'd no call to
be overly partic'lar about lavin' him to make a shift along wid the
child, if 'twas a convanience; on'y he'd be risin' a quare whillabaloo,
if he knew we were goin' off anywheres. Troth, I couldn't tell you all
the gabbin' they had day and night--and showin' me the place he kep' his
bag hidden in, and this way and that way. Och bedad themselves 'ud
persuade the hair on your head it grew wrong side out, if they'd a mind
to it."
"They might so," said Ody, "supposin' I was great gomeral enough to be
mindin' a word they'd say, or the likes of them." In his subsequent
reports of the interview, Ody always alleged that he had replied: "Aye,
very belike, supposin' it grew on the head of an ass," which was
certainly neater. But Ody Rafferty's repartees, like those of other
people, are occasionally belated in this way.
"So the ind of it was," Tom went on, "nothin' else 'ud suit them except
gettin' all readied up for us to be slinkin' out in the evenin' late.
Faith, I'd twenty minds in me heart agin quittin' little Katty, and she
that bad. Howane'er they swore black and white that me father'd be
spendin' all manner of money on her when he got us out of it, and we
were to be writin' for them to come after us as soon as we were settled,
and iverythin' agreeable--so I went along. But if I did, ma'am, sure
when they'd got the bits of furniture sold, the on'y notion they had was
to be settin' off to make fortins in the States, and ne'er a word about
Katty and th' ould man. Och they had me disthracted; outrageous they
were; and that ould thief of the world, Tishy, allowin' me sorra a
penny, so as I mightn't ha' been bound to stop wheriver they was. But
one day they thought they had me asleep in the room-corner, and the two
of them was colloguin' away at the table, so all of suddint Tishy whips
out me poor father's bag, that I knew the look of right well, when he
used to keep his 'baccy in it, and down she slaps it, and it jinglin'
wid money. 'What's that for you?' sez she, and: 'The laws bless us,' sez
Martha, 'is it after takin' that you are? And what's to become of them
crathurs up at Lisconnel?' 'Och blathers,' sez Tishy, 'you needn't be
lettin' on you didn't well know all this while I had it. Sure th'ould
one might ha' plinty more hidden away on us. Anyway, I left them
somethin' to get along wid,' sez she."
"The five shillin's," said the widow. "Och but that one's a caution."
"Rael hard-workin' and industhrious she is," observed Andy.
Tom resumed his narrative: "'Them two'll do as well inside as out,' sez
Tishy. 'I'll just be countin' the bit of silver,' sez she. But bedad I
was fairly past me patience, and up I leps, and I grabbed a hould of the
little bag. Och it's a quare fright I gave them that time, and they not
thinkin' I was mindin', rael terrified they were," said Tom, sitting up
more erect, and recalling this rare experience with evident complacency.
"And 'Lave that, you omadhawn,' sez Tishy, wid the look of a divil on
her,' what foolery are you at now?' 'You thievin' miscreant,' sez I to
her, 'it's shankin' off to the pólis I'll be, and layin' a heavy charge
agin you for robbin' and stealin', and you after lavin' the innicent
child there and th' ould man to starve widout a penny to their names,'
sez I. 'Faugh!' sez she, 'for that matter the fever's liker to have took
her off agin now wid no throuble to be starvin', and maybe a good job
too for iverybody.' And 'Be this and be that,' sez I, 'if I thought
there was e'er a fear of it, 'tis wringin' your ugly neck round I'd be
this instiant.' 'Let go of that bag,' sez she, sweepin' up some of the
shillin's that was spilt. 'The pólis,' sez I, 'and a heavy charge, if
there's another word out of your hijjis head.' 'I vow and declare,' sez
Martha, 'I believe 'twould be the chapest thing we could do wid him, to
let him take it and go. Sure he'd be divil a ha'porth more use for an
immigrant than the ould cat there I was ape enough to bring along to
pacify the childer.' So then Tishy gave some more impidence, but the
last ind of it was we come to an agreement that I'd take the note and
the silver, and they'd keep what bits of gould was in it, and they'd go
off wid themselves wheriver they plased at all, and I'd thramp straight
back here to be lookin' after the child and th' ould man. Ay, bedad, we
settled it up civil enough. And afore I went Martha handed me out th'
ould thimble, and bid me bring it to Katty. ''Twas her mother's,' sez
she, 'I was keepin' for her; and thick it is wid houles be the same
token; but don't say I'd be robbin' it off her.' And they tould me to
take Tib along, or else they'd be lavin' her to run wild; so I put her
in the basket. Begorrah, I believe Bobby had a notion to be comin' wid
me and the cat, for he was lettin' sorrowful bawls the last thing I
heard of him.
"So away I come wid the best of me haste; och I knocked the quare
walkin' out of meself entirely. And I stopped at the last big place I
was passin' to get Katty the oranges. And I was thrampin' it all the
night after, till just when there was a sthrake of the mornin' over the
bog, I come into Lisconnel. But och wirra wirra--the roof's off of the
house--och the look of the black houle wid the rafters stickin' thro'
it, and ne'er a breath of smoke, till me heart was sick watchin' to see
might there be an odd one; and the door clap-clappin'. Sure be that I
well knew the child was dead, and me father quit out of it, or maybe
buried himself, and I after lavin' them dyin' and starvin'. So for
'fraid somebody'd be comin' out and tellin' me, off I run away into the
bog, till I was treadin' here in the could wather. And then I tumbled
th' ould cat out of the basket, that was scrawmin' and yowlin' disp'rit,
and I took and slung the basket into the sthrame--there's the handle
among them rushes--and down I sat under the bank. I dunno how many
nights and days it is at all--but here I'll stop; niver a fut I'll stir
to be lookin' for bite or sup, or lettin' on I'm in it--and anybody may
take the bit of money and welcome; I'd as lief be pickin' up the dirt on
the road--for I'll just give me life a chance to ind out of the world's
misery and disolation."
"Now, may goodness forgive you," said the widow M'Gurk, "it's a poor
case to want the wit. Troth, and yourself's the quare ould
child-desertin', mane-spirited, aisy-frighted slieveen of a young
bosthoon; but what sort of a conthrivance is it you have on you at all
at all be way of a head that you couldn't have the sinse to considher
the roof blowin' off a body's house 'ud be raison enough for them to be
quittin' out of it, and no signs of dyin' in the matter? D'you think the
win' was apt to be waitin' till there happened to be nobody widin, afore
it got scatterin' the thatch? God help us all, you've little to do to be
squattin' there talkin' about disolations and miseries, wid the two of
them this instiant minyit sittin' be the fire up at my place, and sorra
a hand's turn ailin' them, forby Katty's a thrifle conthráry now and
agin, thro' not bein' entirely strong yet."
"And bedad at that hearin'," reports of the occurrence used to proceed
from this point, "the lep he gathered himself up wid, and the rate he
legged it off--musha, he was over the hill while we were pickin' up his
things for him. And as for th' ould cat that he tripped over, it rowled
three perch of ground before it got a hould of its four feet."
"Sure we were sittin' there as quite as could be consaived"--the
conclusion of this precipitate rush was thus recounted--"when all of a
suddint we couldn't tell what come bouncin' in at the door, as if it had
been shot out of the inds of the earth, and had us all jumpin' up and
screechin', till we seen it was on'y Tom Patman, and he in such a takin'
you might suppose he thought somethin' 'ud swally up ould Joe and the
child on him before he could get at them."
Lisconnel's opinion was divided as to whether Tom would actually have
stayed and starved in his hiding-place had he not been discovered. Mrs.
M'Gurk thought it likely enough. "The cat goin' back and for'ards that
way," she said, "gave her an idee there was somethin' amiss in it, and
that was why she took Andy along. 'Deed and she got a quare turn when
first she spied the chap croochin' under the bank--she couldn't tell but
he might ha' been a corp."
Brian Kilfoyle's view was: "Divil a much! Sure if he'd had e'er a notion
to be doin' anythin' agin himself, there was plinty of deep bog-houles
handy for him to sling himself into, and have done wid it." Whereupon
Mrs. Sheridan crossed herself and said deprecatingly: "Ah, sure, belike
the crathur wouldn't have the wickedness in him to go do such a thing."
Her husband didn't know but he might. "Them soft sort of fellers 'ud
sometimes stick to anythin' they took into their heads, the same as a
dab of morthar agin a wall." And Ody Rafferty supposed the fact of the
matter was, "that if be any odd chance they got a notion of their own,
they mistook it for somebody else's."
On one point, however, the neighbours, Mrs. M'Gurk not excepted, were
practically unanimous, the utter flagitiousness, namely, of Tishy
M'Crum. There was a tendency to begrudge her the trivial merit of having
voluntarily left behind her the five-shilling piece. For this marred
that perfect symmetry of iniquity which is so pleasant to the eye when
displayed by people of whom we "have no opinion." Only Mrs. Brian said
it was a mercy she had that much good nature in her itself. But even she
added that the fewer of them kind of folks she saw comin' about the
place, the better she'd be pleased, and she hoped they'd got shut of
them for good and all.
This aspiration seemed the more likely to be fulfilled, when within a
week or so the Patmans heard from the family of Tom's first wife, who
held out prospects of work for himself, and a home for Katty and his
father--a proposal which was gladly accepted. Their departure left as
the single trace of their sojourn in Lisconnel, Tib the cat, which
remained behind, a somewhat unwelcome bequest to the widow M'Gurk.
Indeed, I fear the creature became a source of some annoyance to her,
because Andy Sheridan contracted a habit of addressing it by the name of
Tishy, and bestowing upon it the same laudatory epithets with which the
widow had been wont to justify her admiration for the energetic sisters.
It was on a hushed February morning that the Patmans finally departed.
The smell of spring was in the air, and filmy silvery mist had begun to
float off the dark bogland in vanishing wreaths, soft and dim as the
frail sloe-blossom, already stolen out over the writhen black branches
up on the ridge. A jewel had been left in the heart of every groundling
trefoil and clover-leaf, and the long rays that twinkled to them were
still just tinged with rose. Here and there a flake of gold seemed to
have lit upon the clump of sombre green furze-bushes, by which
neighbours in a small knot stood watching the three generations of
Patmans dwindle away down the road with its narrow dewy grass-border,
threading the vast sweep of sky-rimmed brown. Father and son walked,
while little Katty bobbed along, balanced in a swaying donkey-pannier.
The widow M'Gurk, who felt a good deal of concern about the destiny of
her late lodgers, hoped "they were goin' to dacint people, for there
wasn't as much sinse among the three of them as you'd put on a fourpenny
bit." And Mrs. Quigley thought "'twould be hard to say which the young
man or ould one was the foolishest; for the blathers ould Joe talked
about Tom, and the gaby Tom made of himself over the child, now that he
had his own way wid her, was past belief."
"And I can tell you," said Ody Rafferty, "there's folks goin' about that
you'll want all the wits you iver had, and maybe a thrifle tacked on, to
get the better of rightly."
"Augh, I question will they iver do any great things, goodness help
them," said Mrs. Sheridan. "'Twill be much if he keeps them outside the
House."
"Well, anyway," said Biddy Ryan, "I'd liefer be in their coats, for
fortin or no fortin, than like them two ugly-tempered women, settin' off
to the dear knows where, after robbin' and plunderin' all before them."
"Thrue for you, then, Biddy," said Mrs. Brian, turning away from her
wide outlook, "we're none so badly off, when we're stoppin' where we
are, instid of streelin' about wid the notion of such black villinies
in our minds. For sure enough," she said, as she faced round towards the
grey-peaked end-walls, and smoke-plumed thatch of Lisconnel, "the
world's a quare place to get thravellin' thro', take it as you will."