JIMMIE BURKE'S WEDDING
Jimmie Burke's wife had not been dead a month, when one morning Teressa
brought the news that he was going to be married again.
"The haythen ould Mormon!" said Lull. "God help the wemen these days."
At first the children could not believe it. The late Mrs Burke had
been a friend of theirs. They had walked to the village every Sunday
afternoon, for the whole long year that she had been ill, with pudding
and eggs for her. And they thought Jimmie was so fond of her. He was
heartbroken when she died. When they went to the cottage the day
before the funeral, with a wreath of ivy leaves to put on the coffin,
they found him sitting beside the corpse, crying, and wiping his eyes
on a bit of newspaper. Even Jane, who, for some reason that she had
not given the others, had always hated Jimmie, told Lull when they came
home that she could not help thinking a pity of the man sitting there
crying like a child.
"It bates Banagher," said Teressa, sitting down by the fire with the
cup of tea Lull had given her--"an' the woman not cowld in her coffin
yet; sure, it's enough to make the dead walk."
"Och, but the poor critter was glad to rest," said Lull.
"An', mind ye, he's the impitent ould skut," Teressa went on, stirring
her tea with her finger; "he come an' tould me last night himself. An'
sez he: 'The wife she left me under no obligations,' sez he; 'but sorra
a woman is there about the place I'd luk at,' sez he."
"They'd be wantin' a man that tuk him," said Lull. "The first wife's
well red a' him in glory."
"When's the weddin', Teressa?" Fly asked.
"An' who's marryin' him?" said Lull.
"He's away this mornin' to be marriet. She's a lump of a girl up in
Ballynahinch," said Teressa. "Troth, ay, he lost no time; he's
bringing her home the night, the neighbours say."
In the stable Andy Graham was even more indignant. "It's the
ondacentest thing I iver heard tell of," he told Mick; "an' the woman
be to be as ondacent as himself."
But Andy's, indignation was nothing to what Jane felt. "I knowed it,"
she said to the others when they were together in the schoolroom; "I
knowed the ould boy was the bad ould baste. Augh! he oughtn't to be
let live."
"Away ar that, Jane," said Patsy; "sure, that's the fool talk. Where's
the harm in him marryin' again?"
"Harm!" Jane shouted. "It's more than harm; it's a dirty insult. Ye
ought always to wait a year after yer wife dies afore ye marry again;
but him!--him!--he just ought to be hung."
"It's a dirty trick, sure enough," said Mick; "but ye couldn't hang him
unless he done a murder."
"An' so he did," said Jane sharply. "Think I don't know? I tell ye he
murdered her, as sure as I stan' on this flure."
"Whist, Jane," said Mick; "that's the awful thing to be sayin'."
"An' I can prove it, too," she went on, "for I saw him do it with my
own two eyes, not wanst, but twiced, an' she let out he was always
doin' it. I promised her I wouldn't come over it, but there's no harm
tellin' it now she's dead. Ye know them eggs Lull sent her?" the
children nodded. "Well, do ye mane to say she iver eat them? For she
just didn't; he eat ivery one himself, an' he eat the puddens, an' he
drunk the milk. Augh! the ould baste, he'd eat the clothes off her bed
if he could 'a' chewed them."
"Who tould ye he eat them all?" said Patsy.
"Sure, I saw him doin' it myself, I tell ye. He come home drunk one
day when I was there. He was that blind drunk he niver seen me. An'
he began eatin' all he could lay han' on. He eat up the jelly; an' two
raw eggs, an' drunk the taste a' milk she had by her in the cup, an' he
even drunk the medicine out of the bottle, an' eat up the wee bunch a'
flowers I'd tuk her, an', when he'd eat up ivery wee nip he could find,
he lay down on the flure, an' went asleep."
"The dirty, greedy, mane ould divil," said the others.
"An' she tould me he always done it," Jane went on. "An' I seen it was
the truth, for he come in another day, an' done the same, an' he was
that cross that he frightened her, an' she begun to spit blood, an' if
it hadn't been for me I believe he'd 'a' kilt her; but I was that mad
that I hit him a big dig in the stomach; an', mind ye, I hurted him,
for he went to bed like a lamb, an' I tied him in with an ould shawl
afore I come away."
The others could find no words to express their disgust. They agreed
that Jane was right--such a man ought not to be allowed to live.
"If we tould Sergeant M'Gee he'd hang him," said Fly.
"That'd be informin', said Mick.
"Almighty God's sure to pay him out when he dies," Honeybird said.
"I'd rather pay him out now," said Jane. At that moment there was a
flash of lightning, and a crash of thunder overhead, and then a shower
of hailstones rattled against the window.
"Mebby he'll be struck dead," said Fly; "Almighty God's sure to be
awful mad with him."
For three hours the rain poured in torrents. The children watched it
from the schoolroom window splashing up on the path, and beating down
the fuchsia bushes in the border.
But by dinner-time it had cleared up, and the sky looked clean and
blue, as though it had just been washed. When dinner was over they set
off to the village, expecting to hear that Jimmie had been struck by
lightning, or, as Fly thought would be more proper, killed by a
thunderbolt.
Mrs M'Rea was standing at her door, with a ring of neighbours round
her. As they came up the street they heard her say: "There's the
childer, an' they were the kin' friends to her when she was alive."
"Good-mornin', Mrs M'Rea," said Jane; "has Jimmie been kilt?"
"Is it kilt," said Mrs M'Rea; "'deed an' it's no more than he
desarves--but we don't all get what we desarve in this world, glory be
to God! Troth, no; it's marriet he is, an' comin' home the night in
style on a ker, all the way from Ballynahinch."
"We thought Almighty God'd 'a' kilt him with a thunderbolt," said Fly.
"Do ye hear that?" said old Mrs Clay. "The very childer's turned agin
him--an' small wonder, the ould ruffan; it's the quare woman would have
him."
"By all accounts she is that," said Gordie O'Rorke, joining the group;
"they say she's six fut in her stockin's an' as blackavised as the ould
boy himself."
"We'll be givin' her the fine welcome the night," said his granny;
"she'll be thinkin' she's got to her long home."
"They say she's got the gran' clothes," said Gordie, "an' a silk dress
an'a gowld watch an' chain; mebby that's what tuk his fancy."
"If she doesn't luk out he'll be eatin' it," said Patsy. There was a
roar of laughter.
"There's none knows better than yous what he could ate," said Mrs
M'Rea. "Any bite or sup I tuk the woman I sat and seen it in her afore
I come away."
"He's stepped over his brogues this time," said Gordie, "for me uncle
up in Ballynahinch is well acquainted with the woman, an' he sez she's
a heeler, an' no mistake."
"Well, well," said ould Mrs Glover, "I'm sayin' she'll not have her
sorras to seek."
"No; nor Jimmie either," said Mrs M'Rea. "But there, where's the good
a' talkin'? It's the lamentable thing entirely; but they're marriet
now, an' God help both a' them."
"'Deed yis; they're marriet," said Mrs O'Rorke, "an we'll not be
forgettin' it the night. It's tar bar'ls we'll be burnin'--they'll be
expectin' it, to be sure--an' a torchlight procession out to meet them
forby."
"Troth, then, they'll get more than they're expectin'," said Gordie.
"What time did ye say they'd be comin' back the night, Mrs M'Rea?" Mick
asked.
"Ye know we'd like' to come to the welcome," said Jane.
"Och, it'd be late for the likes a' yous," answered Mrs M'Rea. "It'll
be past ten, won't it, Gordie."
"Nearer eleven that ten," said Gordie. "You lave it to us, Miss Jane;
niver fear but they'll get the right good welcome."
Going home they were all very quiet. No one spoke till they came to
the gates. Then Patsy said: "Lull'll niver let us out at that time a'
night."
"We'll just have to dodge her," said Jane; "it'd be the wicked an' the
wrong thing to let ould Jimmie off."
"It'll be the quare fun," said Patsy, dancing round.
"It won't be fun, Patsy; it'll be vengeance," said Jane severely.
"Ye'll take me with ye, won't ye?" Honeybird begged.
"'Deed, we'll take the sowl," said Mick; "but ye'll be powerful tired."
"What do I care about that?" she said. "I just want to hit that bad
ould man."
Lull was surprised to see them go to bed so quietly that night. "Ye
niver know the minds a' childer," they heard her say as they left their
mother's room after they had said good-night. "I made sure they'd be
wantin' to the village to see Jimmie Burke come home." Honeybird
sniggered, but Fly nipped her into silence.
The convent bell was ringing for Compline when Lull tucked them into
bed, but before the schoolroom clock struck ten they were on their way
to the village. When they got to Jimmie's cottage the crowd was so
great that they could see nothing.
"We'll have no han' in the welcome at all," said Mick.
"An' it's that pitch dark we'll niver see them," said Patsy.
"We'd better be goin' back a bit along the road, an give them the first
welcome," Jane said. "Come on, quick," she added, "an' we can stan' on
the wall, an' paste them with mud as they come by."
"Hould on a minute," said Mick. "I've got a plan: we'll stick my
lantern on the wall, an' shout out they're home; they'll be that drunk
they'll niver know the differs; that'll make them stop, an' we'll get a
good shot at them."
"Troth, we'll do better than that," said Patsy, with a chuckle.
"They'll be blind drunk, I'm tellin' ye, an' it's into the ould pond
we'll be welcomin' them. Yous three can stan' on the wall out a' the
wet, an' me an' Mike'll assist the man an' his wife to step off the
car."
The pond was at the side of the road, not more than a hundred yards
from the village, and the wall ran right through the middle of it. The
children climbed on the wall, and crept along on their hands and knees
till they came to the deepest part. The water was up to the the top of
the wall, so they had to sit with their legs doubled up to keep them
out of the wet.
Soon they heard the wheels of the car coming along the road.
"Now, mind ye all screech at onst," said Patsy as he dropped off the
wall. "Auch! but the water's cowld."
The car came nearer. Jane held up the lantern. "Hurrah, hurrah!" they
shouted; "here ye are at last. Hurrah!"
"This way, this way," Mick shouted; "drive up to the man's own dour."
A stone from Patsy smashed the lamp on the car.
"Begorra, I can't see where I'm goin'," said the driver.
"Ye're all right," Mick shouted; "there's the lamp in the man's windy."
"Home, shweet home," said Jimmie; "no plache like home."
"Hurrah, hurrah!" they shouted as the horse splashed into the pond.
"Jump off, Mister Burke, there's a bit of a puddle by the step," said
Mick.
"Home, shweet home, me darlinsh," said Jimmie; "lemme shisht ye off
kersh."
"Come on, we'll help the wife off," said Mick.
But Jimmie had taken his wife's arm, and as he jumped she jumped too.
Splash they went into the pond, and at the same time a shower of stones
came from the wall. The horse took fright, and started off, the driver
shouting "Murder!" as they raced down the road.
"In the name a' God, where am I?" shouted Mrs Burke.
But she got no answer, for Jimmie, with the help of Mick and Patsy, was
taking back ducks in the pond. Mrs Burke splashed towards the light,
going deeper every step.
"Ye ould villain, will ye come an' help me out?" she screamed. "Sure,
it's ruinin' me dress an' me new boots I am."
Then the light went out, and a moment later there was a gurgling cry,
followed by shrieks and cries of murder. In the middle of it all
voices were heard coming along the road from the village, and the sound
of the car coming back.
"Hist!" said Mick. "Home."
"Och, I'm wet to the skin," said Patsy as they ran along the road, "but
ould Jimmie's far wetter."
"He's as dry as the wife," said Jane, "for I ducked her three times;
she went down awful easy."
"It was me helpin' ye," said Fly; "I had her by the leg."
"Wasn't it quare an' good a' God to make the pond that deep?" said
Honeybird. "It must 'a' been Him put it into Patsy's head to duck
them."
"That's why He made it rain so hard this mornin'," said Jane, "an' me
thought there was no manin' in it."
"It was the finest bit of vengeance I iver seen," said Patsy. "Ould
Jimmie was as light as a cork, an' we soused him up an' down till there
wasn't a breath left in him."
"I wonder what Lull'll say when she sees our clothes," said Jane; "me
very shimmy's wet." But, to their surprise, when they woke next
morning clean clothes had been put out for them, and when they came
downstairs Lull only said: "Has any of ye tuk a cold?"
"No, we haven't," said Jane.
"Well, then, don't name it to yer mother," Lull said, and left them
wondering how she had found out.
Andy Graham called them into the stable after breakfast.
"Did ye hear the news?" he said.
"What news?" said Mick.
"The news about the weddin'," Andy said. "Didn't Lull tell ye about
it? Sure, the whole place is ringin' with it. Poor ould Jimmie Burke
an' the wife were near kilt last night. A pack of ruffians stopped the
ker at the ould pond, an' ducked both him an' the wife. He was that
full a' waiter they had to hould him up by the heels an' let it run
out; an' the wife covered with black mud from head to fut."
"Who done it?" said Patsy, looking Andy in the face.
"Who done it, do ye say?" said Andy--"sure, that's what I'd like to
know myself. There wasn't wan out a' the village but what was waitin'
at the man's own dour when the ker come up, an ne'ery a wan on it but
the driver, shoutin' murder, an' when the neighbours went back along
the road there was Jimmie an' the wife in the middle a' the pond, and
niver a sowl else to be seen."
Mick laughed. "Ye're the fly ould boy, Andy," he said; "an' I must say
ye done it right well, but didn't ye get awful wet when ye were duckin'
them?"
Andy stared at him.
"It's all right, Andy; we'll niver name it," said Patsy. "An' I
wouldn't 'a' blamed ye if ye'd 'a' drownded the both a' them."
Andy whistled. "Ye've as much brass as would make a dour knocker," he
said. "But, see here, the next time yous are on the war pad don't be
lavin' circumstantial evidence behind ye." He brought out from behind
the door an old rag doll, soaking wet.
"Och a nee!" wailed Honeybird, "it was me done that. I hadn't the
heart to lave her at home," she explained. "She's Bloody Mary, an' I
thought she'd enjoy the vengeance."
"I thought I knowed her when I seen her lyin' at the side a' the pond
this mornin," said Andy. "An', mind ye, I'm not blamin' ye, an' I'm
not sayin' but what Jimmie an' the wife disarved it, but ye'd better
keep a quiet tongue in yer heads. There's nobuddy but meself an' Lull
knows who done it, and nobuddy'll iver know. It's all very well for a
wheen a' neighbours to do the like, but it's no work for quality to be
doin'."