Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: "I'm comin' home from a feeneral," Honeybird called out
cheerfully.]
THE WEANS AT ROWALLAN
BY
KATHLEEN FITZPATRICK
WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. GUY SMITH
METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON
_First Published in 1905_
_Second Edition 1905_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. WHY MRS M'REA RETURNED TO THE FAITH OF HER FATHERS
II. UNDER THE SHADOW OF THE MOUNTAINS
III. JANE'S CONVERSION
IV. A DAY OF GROWTH
V. THE CHILD SAMUEL
VI. THE BEST FINDER
VII. A STOCKING FULL OF GOLD
VIII. THE BANTAM HEN
IX. THE DORCAS SOCIETY
X. THE CRUEL HARM
XI. A CHIEF MOURNER
XII. A SAFEGUARD FOR HAPPINESS
XIII. JIMMIE BURKE'S WEDDING
XIV. JANE AT MISS COURTNEY'S SCHOOL
XV. AN ENGLISH AUNT
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"I'M COMIN' HOME FROM A FEENERAL," HONEYBIRD CALLED OUT
CHEERFULLY . . . . . . . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
WHEN FLY LOOKED IN UNDER THE WHIN THERE WAS HONEYBIRD FAST ASLEEP
"MICHAEL DARRAGH! IS THAT WHO YE ARE? MOTHER A' GOD! AN' YER
FATHER'S GUN IN HIS HAN'"
"WHIST, SAMMY; BE QUIET, MAN, TILL SHE COMES," SAID MICK
THE WEANS AT ROWALLAN
CHAPTER I
WHY MRS M'REA RETURNED TO THE FAITH OF HER FATHERS
One soaking wet day in September Patsy was sitting by the kitchen fire
eating bread and sugar for want of better amusement when he was cheered
by the sight of a tall figure in a green plaid shawl hurrying past the
window in the driving rain. He got up from his creepie stool to go for
the other children, who were playing in the schoolroom, when Lull,
sprinkling clothes at the table, exclaimed:
"Bad luck to it, here's that ould runner again."
Patsy quietly moved his stool back into the shadow of the chimney
corner. In that mood Lull, if she saw him, would chase him from the
kitchen when the news began; and clearly Teressa was bringing news
worth hearing. As far back as Patsy or any of the children could
remember, Teressa had brought the village gossip to Rowallan. Neither
rain nor storm could keep the old woman back when there was news to
tell. One thing only--a dog in her path--had power to turn her aside.
The quietest dog sent her running like a hare, and the most obviously
imitated bark made her cry.
She came in, shaking the rain from her shawl.
"Woman, dear, but that's the saft day. I'm dreepin' to the marrow
bone."
"What an' iver brought ye out?" said Lull shortly.
Teressa sank into a chair, and wiped her wet face with the corner of
her apron. "'Deed, ye may weel ast me. My grandson was for stoppin'
me, but says I to myself, says I, the mistress be to hear this before
night."
"She'll hear no word of it, then," said Lull. "She's sleepin' sound,
an' I'd cut aff my han' afore I'd wake her for any ould clash."
Teressa paid no heed. "Such carryin's-on, Lull, I niver seen. Mrs
M'Rea, the woman, she bates Banagher. She's drunk as much whiskey
these two days as would destroy a rigiment, an' now she has the whole
village up with her talk."
"Andy was tellin' me she was at it again," said Lull.
"Och, I wisht ye'd see her," said Teressa. "She was neither to bind
nor to stay. An' the tongue of her. Callin' us a lock a' papishes an'
fenians! Sure, she was sittin' on Father Ryan's dour-step till past
twelve o'clock wavin' an or'nge scarf, an' singin' 'Clitter Clatter,
Holy Watter.'"
"Dear help us," said Lull.
"'Deed, I'm sayin' it," said Teressa. "An when his riverence come out
to her it was nothin' but a hape of abuse, an' to hell wid the Pope,
that she give him."
"That's forty shillin's an' costs if the polis heard her," said Patsy,
forgetting he was in hiding.
Teressa jumped. "Lord love ye, did ye iver hear the like a' that?" she
said. "It's a wee ould man the chile is."
"Be off wid ye, Patsy," said Lull; "what call has the likes a' yous to
know that?" But Patsy wanted to hear more.
"What did Father Ryan say to her, Teressa?" he asked.
"Troth, he tould her she'd be in hell herself before the Pope for all
her cursin'," said Teressa.
"An' will she?" said Patsy.
"As sure as an egg's mate," said Teressa. "If she doesn't give over
drinkin' the ould gentleman's comin' for her one of these fine nights
to take her aff wid him."
"Does she know when he's comin'?" Patsy asked.
"Not her, the black-mouthed Protestant divil," said Teressa.
"Whist!" said Lull, "that's no talk before the chile."
"And a fine child he is," said Teressa, "an' a fine man he'll be makin'
one a' these days."
But Patsy had heard enough, and was off to tell the others. They were
playing in the schoolroom when he brought the news. Mrs M'Rea was
drunk again, and had cursed the Pope on Father Ryan's doorstep, and the
devil was coming to take her away if she did not stop drinking. It was
bitter news, for Mrs M'Rea kept the one sweetie shop in the village.
"I'll go an' see her," said Jane.
"What good'll that do?" said Mick.
"I'll tell her the divil's comin'," said Jane.
"She won't heed ye," said Mick.
"I know," said Fly, who had said nothing so far but had been thinking
seriously; "let's send her a message from the divil to tell her to give
over or he'll come for her."
This plan commended itself to the others as a brilliant solution of a
difficulty. Mrs M'Rea had been known to see devils and rats before
when she was drunk--they had only been dancing devils, and had come to
no good purpose that the children knew of--she would, therefore, be
quite prepared for another visit, and a devil with a warning would have
to be taken seriously. It was well worth trying, for Mrs M'Rea, in
spite of her drunken habits and the fact that she was a turncoat--had
been born a Roman Catholic, and had married into the other camp--was a
great favourite with the children. She often gave them sweets when
they had not a farthing between them to pay.
As the idea was hers Fly was to go with the message. Mick raked down a
handful of soot from the chimney, and rubbed her face and hands till
they were black, then dressed her in a pair of old bathing-drawers and
a black fur cape. Patsy got the pitchfork from the stable for her to
carry in her hand.
Fly started off for the village. The others waited patiently for her
to come back. She was gone nearly two hours, and came back wet to the
skin, and frightened at the success of her mission.
"Go on; tell us right from the start," said Jane.
"Well, when I got outside the gate who should I meet but Teressa goin'
home, so I just dodged down behind her, an' barked--an' she tuk to her
heels, an' run the whole way. An' when we come to the village I hid
behind a tree, an' then I dodged round to Mrs M'Rea's. The door was
shut, so I knocked with the pitchfork. Sez she: 'Who's there?' Sez I:
'Come out a' that, Mrs M'Rea.' Sez she: 'What would I be doin' that
for?' 'Because,' sez I, 'it's the divil himself come to see ye, Mrs
M'Rea.'"
"But ye wern't to be the divil," Jane interrupted. "Ye were only one
of his wee divils."
"I clean forgot," said Fly; "'deed, indeed, I clean forgot. An' oh,
Jane, I wisht ye'd seen her. She opened the dour, and when she seen me
she give a yell, an' went down on her knees, an' began prayin' like
mad. I danced round, an' poked her with the pitchfork, an', sez I:
'I'll larn ye to curse the Pope, Mrs M'Rea, ye black-mouthed ould
Protestant,'--that's what Teressa said, wasn't it, Patsy? 'Look here,
my girl,' sez I, 'I'm comin' for ye at twelve the night, so see an' be
ready.' An' with that she give another big yell, an' run in an' shut
the dour, an' I could hear her cryin'. An' oh, Jane, Jane, I've scared
the very sowl out of her." And Fly began to cry too.
"Ye've just spoilt it all, Fly," said Jane. "The divil wasn't to be
goin' to come for her on'y if she wouldn't give over drinkin'."
Fly shivered, and sobbed.
"Yes, ye jackass; an' how can we take her away at twelve?" said Mick.
"An' if we don't she won't believe it was the divil," said Patsy.
But Fly only shivered, and sobbed the more.
"Look here," said Jane, "she'll be sick if we don't dry her." So they
all went upstairs, and Fly was washed, and dressed in her own clothes,
and sent down to sit by the kitchen fire, having first sworn to cut her
throat if she let out one word to Lull. Then the four went back to the
schoolroom to think the matter over.
"We can't have Mrs M'Rea goin' round sayin' the divil tould her a lie,"
said Jane.
"An' we can't have her sittin' there all night scared to death," said
Mick.
"We'll have to send her another message," said Jane.
"Another divil?" said Patsy.
"No," said Jane; "it must be some person from heaven this time to tell
her that if she'll quit drinkin' the divil won't be let come!"
They agreed that this was the only plan; but who was it to be? "I'll
be the Blessed Virgin," said Jane; "there's mother's blue muslin dress
in the nursery cupboard, an' I can have the wax flowers out of the
glass shade in my hair."
"But Mrs M'Rea's a Protestant," Mick objected, "an' what would she care
for the Blessed Virgin?"
"Let's send a ghost of Mister M'Rea," said Patsy. But here again there
was a difficulty, for Mr M'Rea could only have come from purgatory--and
who would have let him out?
"Is there niver a Protestant saint?" said Mick.
"Not a one but King William," said Jane.
"An' he's the very ould boy," Mick shouted, and upstairs they ran to
search for suitable clothes. Jane begged to be King William; but by
the time she was dressed it was dark, and she was afraid to go alone,
so Mick and Patsy went with her.
Honeybird was sent downstairs to the kitchen to wait with Fly till they
came back, and if Lull asked where they were she was not to tell. When
they dropped out of the dressing-room window into the garden the rain
was over. The wind now chased the clouds in wild shapes across the
sky, now piled them up to hide the moon. The children crept along the
road, terrified that they might meet Sandy M'Glander, the ghost with
the wooden leg, or see Raw Head and Bloody Bones ride by on his black
horse. When they reached Mrs M'Rea's cottage all was in darkness, but
they could hear through the door the crying that had frightened Fly.
"Hide quick yous two," said Jane; "I'm goin' to knock."
There was a yell of terror from inside.
"It's all right, Mrs M'Rea," said Jane; "come out, I want to speak to
ye."
"Who are ye?" said Mrs M'Rea.
"Sure, I'm King William, of Glorious, Pious, an' Immortal memory, come
to save ye from the divil."
They heard Mrs M'Rea fumbling with the latch, and then the door opened.
Jane stood up straight, and, as luck would have it, the clouds parted,
and the moon shone bright on King William in an old hunting-coat
stuffed out with pillows, a pair of white-frilled knickerbockers, and a
top hat with a peacock's feather in it.
"God help us," said Mrs M'Rea, "but the quare things do happen."
"Ay; an' quarer things will happen if yer don't give over drinkin', Mrs
M'Rea," said King William. "Fine goin's-on these are when dacent
people can't rest in heaven for the likes a' you and yer vagaries."
"It's Himself," said Mrs M'Rea, and got down on her knees.
"If it hadn't been for me meeting the divil this evenin' ye'd have been
in hell by this time; but sez I to him, sez I: 'Give her another
chance,' sez I."
"God save us," sobbed Mrs M'Rea.
"An' sez he: 'No.' Do ye hear what I'm sayin', Mrs M'Rea? Sez he:
'No; the black-mouthed Protestant, she cursed the Pope, and waved an
or'nge scarf, on Father's Ryan's dourstep,' sez he."
"Whist!" said a warning voice round the corner, "King William's a
Protestant."
"What do I care about Protestants?" shouted King William, getting
excited. "If I didn't know ye for a dacent woman I'd 'a' let the divil
have ye; but sez I to myself, sez I: 'Where would the childer be
without their wee sweetie shop?'"
Jane was losing her head. The whispers round the corner began again.
King William took no notice, but went on: "An' he'll let you off this
wanst, Mrs M'Rea; but ye'll go down first thing in the mornin', an'
take the pledge with Father Ryan."
"Did yer honour say Father Ryan?" gasped Mrs "M'Rea.
"'Deed, I did; an' who else would I be sayin'?" said King William.
"But I'm a Protestant, yer honour," said Mrs M'Rea.
"So ye are; an' I'm tellin' ye, Mrs M'Rea, ye'll be sorry for it.
Sure, there's niver a Protestant in heaven but myself, an' me got in by
the skin a' my teeth. There's nothin' but rows an' rows a' Popes
there. Sure, there's many the time I be sorry for ye when I hear ye
down here shoutin' 'Clitter clatter' an' wearin' or'nge scarfs when I
know where ye're goin' through it."
"Och-a-nee, an' me knew no better," said Mrs M'Rea.
"Ye did know better wanst, an' ye know better again now. Go down to
Father Ryan, an' take the pledge; an' let me hear no more about it, or
it'll not be tellin' ye, for divil a fut I'll stir out of heaven again
for you or anybuddy else." Mrs M'Rea was rocking to and fro on her
knees. The clouds once more hid the moon, and in the darkness Mick and
Patsy seized King William, and hurried her away.
"Ye very near spoilt it all," said Mick.
"But I didn't," said Jane. "Let's hide, an' see what she'll do."
Mrs M'Rea only got up from her knees, and went into the cottage, and
shut the door. It was late when they got home. Jane crept upstairs,
and changed her clothes before she went into the kitchen for supper.
Next morning Teressa came with the strange news that Mrs M'Rea had been
converted, and had been to Father Ryan to take the pledge. "Small
wonder, for the divil himself come to see her," said Teressa. "An'
sure, I seen him myself wid me own two eyes. As I was goin' home last
night who should come after me but a black baste wid the ugliest face
on him ye iver seen. An' it wasn't long after that the neighbours
heard her yellin' 'Murder!' She sez herself that he come to her as
bould as brass, like a wee ould black man, an' poked holes in her wid a
fiery fork, an' by strake a' dawn she was down at Father Ryan's tellin'
him she was converted. An' not a drop of drink on her. An' the whole
parish is callogueing wid her now. But she houlds to it that King
William's a great saint in glory."