THE BANTAM HEN
"Father Ryan's lost his wee bantam hen," said Patsy when they were
having supper one evening. "Ould Rosie was out lukin' for it as I come
past the presbytery."
"Somebuddy's stole it," said Honeybird. Mick challenged this statement.
"Well, it's just like what somebuddy 'ud do," Honeybird replied.
"I'm goin' to help ould Rosie to luk for it the morra," said Patsy.
Honeybird looked up from her porridge. "Ye'll niver fin' it," she
said. "Somebuddy that lives away at the other side a' the town tuk it.
I seen him goin' away with it under his arm."
The others stopped scraping their plates to look at her.
"Why didn't ye tell us afore?" Jane asked.
"'Cause I was feared," said Honeybird. "He tould me that if I telt
anybuddy he'd come back an' cut my throat."
The family stared at her. Here was a wonderful adventure Honeybird had
been through, and had never said a word about it till this minute.
Questions poured in on her. Lull, remembering that Honeybird had been
out by herself all afternoon, listened anxiously. Honeybird glanced
quickly over her shoulder, as though she were afraid of being
overheard. "I was coming along the road," she began, lowering her
voice, "when who should I meet but a big, wicked-lukin' man, with a
baldy head on him, an' two roun' eyes as big as saucers."
"Away ar that, Honeybird," Patsy interrupted.
"Well, I can tell ye they luked like that to me," said Honeybird. "An'
just as he was passin' me I seen a wee beak keekin 'out a' his pocket,
an' sez I to myself: 'Thon's Father Ryan's bantam hen.'" Honeybird had
an attentive audience. "An' sez I to him: 'Drap it,' sez I."
"Lord love ye, child, the man might 'a' hurted ye," said Lull.
"He very near did," said Honeybird. "He lifted a big stone, an'
clodded it at me, an' sez he: 'If ye tell on me I'll cut yer throat,'
sez he."
"That's the last time ye're out stravagin' the roads by yer lone," said
Lull. "Yez'll not have to lave the wee sowl after this," she cautioned
the others. They were as frightened as Lull.
They treated Honeybird as though she had been rescued from some
terrible danger. Next morning Andy was told. He questioned Honeybird
closely, and said he would give a description of the man to Sergeant
M'Gee. Honeybird remembered that the man had red whiskers, and carried
a big stick. Later on she remembered that he had bandy legs and a
squint. The more frightened the others grew at the thought of the
dangers she had been exposed to the more terrible grew her description
of the man's appearance. Once or twice Jane had a suspicion that
Honeybird was adding to the truth, but when questioned Honeybird stuck
to the same tale, and never contradicted herself.
"God be thankit no harm come to the wee sowl," said Mick when Honeybird
had gone off to play, in charge of Fly and Patsy. "I'll be feared to
let her out a' my sight after this."
"I'll hould ye Sergeant M'Gee'll keep a luk out for thon boy," said
Jane. They were up in the loft getting hay for Rufus.
"Wasn't she the quare brave wee thing to tell the man to drap the
priest's hen?" said Mick. Jane lifted a bundle of hay.
"She's an awful good wee child, anyway," she answered. "What's that
scrapin' in the corner?" she added.
She stepped over the hay to look.
"What is it?" said Mick. Jane did not answer. He repeated his
question, and Jane turned a bewildered face.
"Come here an' see," she said. In the corner, where a place had been
cleared for the purpose, a bantam hen was tethered by a string to a
nail in the floor!
"God help us," said Mick, "but why an' iver did he hide it here?"
"He!" said Jane, "don't you see the manin' af it? She's stole it
herself, an' tould us all them lies on purpose."
Mick could hardly be brought to believe this.
"Did ye iver hear tell a' such badness?" said Jane.
"Mebby she niver knowed what she was doin'," said Mick.
"Didn't she just," said Jane; "she knowed enough to tell a quare good
lie."
"We'd better go an' ast her if she done it," said Mick.
They found Honeybird playing on the lawn with the two others, and led
her away to the top of the garden. Jane began the accusation.
"Do you know, Honeybird, we think you're a wee thief," she said.
"Dear forgive ye," said Honeybird.
"We seen the bantam," said Jane.
Honeybird looked up quickly. "Then just you lave it alone, an' mind
yer own business," she said.
"Do you know that you are a thief an' a liar, Honeybird Darragh?" said
Jane sternly.
"Well, what if I am?" said Honeybird. "Sure, I'm on'y a wee child, an
know no better."
"Ye know the commandments an' 'Thou shall not steal' as well as I do,"
said Jane.
"I forget them sometimes," said Honeybird; "besides, too, I niver stole
it. It as near as ninepence walked up into my pinny."
"Where was it?" Mick asked.
"It was out walkin' on the road all by its lone," said Honeybird, "an'
if I hadn't 'a' tuk it mebby somebuddy else would."
"Then ye niver seen no bad man with a baldy head at all?" Mick asked.
"No, I didn't," Honeybird confessed; "but I might 'a' seen him all the
same."
"Luk here, me girl," said Jane, "you've just got to walk that bantam
hen back to Father Ryan."
"I will not," said Honeybird.
"Then we'll tell Lull."
Honeybird began to cry. "If ye do I'll run away, an' niver, niver come
home any more," she said. Jane was dumfounded.
"Ye can't go on bein' a thief, Honeybird," she said at last. "We on'y
want to make ye good."
"Then ye'll not make me good," said Honeybird. "If ye tell anybuddy
I'll be as bad as bad as the divil, so I just will."
"Well, if ye don't give up the bantam Almighty God'll let ye know,"
said Jane.
"I'm not a bit feared a' Him," Honeybird replied. Say what they would
they could not move her. Mick reasoned and Jane reasoned, but it was
all to no purpose. Honeybird was determined to stick to her sin. In
the end she got the better of them, for to put an end to her threats
they had to promise not to tell. Later in the day Andy also discovered
the bantam hen, and told Lull.
"I wouldn't 'a' believed there was that much veeciousness in the wean,"
he said. Andy was cross--he had been to the police barracks, and told
Sergeant M'Gee to look out for Honeybird's bad man.
"God luk to yer wit, man," said Lull. "Sure, childer's always tryin'
their han' at some divilment or other."
"She'd be the better af a good batin'," said Andy.
"It'd be the quare wan would lift han' to a chile like thon," said
Lull. "I don't hould with batin's, anyway. Just take yer hurry, an'
ye'll see what'll happen."
What did happen was that Honeybird brought an old hymn-book into the
kitchen that evening, and sat by the fire singing hymns. "I am Jesus'
little lamb," she was singing in a shrill voice when the others came
into supper.
"Then ye're the quare black wan," said Jane.
Several days passed, and Honeybird showed no sign of repentance. She
even continued the tale of the bad man to Fly and Patsy, who did not
know the truth, and were still frightened of him. She said she had met
him again. Where and when she was not going to tell, for he had told
her he was going to America, and was never going to steal any more. He
had also said that if she were a good girl he would give her a bantam
hen for herself.
"He'll on'y give ye the wan he stole from Father Ryan, an' then ye'll
have to take it back," said Fly.
"No; but he said it'd be wan he stole from somebuddy I niver seen or
knowed," said Honeybird.
"Don't you be takin' it," Patsy warned her. "The receiver's as bad as
the thief, ye know."
Honeybird was disconcerted for a moment. "Who tould ye that?" she
asked.
"It's in the Bible," said Patsy.
"Well, I don't believe it," said Honeybird. "Anyway, Almighty God
forgets things half His time. I seen somebuddy that done a sin wanst,
an' He niver let on He knowed."
That night Mrs Darragh was ill again. The children had all gone to
bed. Lull thanked God they were asleep as she sat by their mother's
side listening to her wild prayers and protestations of repentance.
"The childer'd make sure she was goin' to die if they heerd her," she
thought, and hoped the nursery door was securely shut. She had found
it was best to let Mrs Darragh cry till she had exhausted her grief.
Then she would fall asleep, and forget. Tonight it was past twelve
o'clock before Mrs Darragh slept. Lull made up the fire, and crept
softly out of the room to go to her own bed. But when she opened the
door she discovered the five children in their nightgowns sitting
huddled together in the passage. They looked at Lull with anxious eyes.
"Is she dead, Lull?" Jane asked. Lull drove them off to the nursery.
"Tell us, Lull; is she dead?" Mick begged.
"Not a bit a' her," said Lull cheerfully. "She's sleepin' soun'." She
tucked them into bed, and hurried back to see if they had waked their
mother. All was quiet there, and she was once more going off to bed,
when she heard voices in the nursery.
"I'll take it back the morra, but I think Almighty God's not fair." It
was Honeybird's voice. "He might 'a' done some wee thing on me, an'
instead a' that He done the baddest thing He knowed."
"Whist, Honeybird," came Jane's voice.
"I'll not whist," said Honeybird. "He's near bruk my heart. Makin'
mother sick like that all for the sake of a wee bantam."
"God help childer an' their notions," said Lull to herself.
Next morning, when she was lighting the kitchen fire, a figure passed
the kitchen window. It was early for anybody to be about the place, so
Lull got up to see who it could be. It was Honeybird. She was running
quickly down the avenue, with something under her arm. She was back
again before breakfast.
"How's mother?" were her first words. Lull assured her that Mrs
Darragh was better again.
Honeybird gave a sigh of relief. "Och, but I got the quare scare," she
said. Lull pretended to know nothing.
"Well, I may as well tell ye it was me stole Father Ryan's wee bantam,"
said Honeybird. Lull expressed surprise.
"An' sez I to myself: 'Almighty God niver knows that I know right well
it's a sin'"--she paused for a moment--"but He knowed all the time.
'Clare to you, Lull dear, I made sure He'd 'a' kilt mother afore I got
the wee bantam tuk back."
"Did ye tell the priest that?" Lull asked.
"Troth, I tould him ivery word from the very start," Honeybird answered.
"An' what did he say to ye?" said Lull.
"He's the awful nice man," said Honeybird. "He tried to make out that
Almighty God wasn't as bad as all that. But I know better. Anyhow,
he's goin' to buy me a wee bantam cock and hen, all for my very own, to
keep for iver."