SOMETHING HAPPENED
It would be hard to say who was more surprised by Sally's letter, the
postman or Mrs. Mulvaney. Both stared doubtfully at the envelope, the
postman appearing unwilling to leave the letter, while Mrs. Mulvaney
was equally uncertain of her right to it. The children were out. When
the postman was gone their mother put a stick of wood in the kitchen
stove, poked the clothes in the boiler, glanced at the wash-tubs, then
went in the Other Room.
"Well, I never!" she remarked, turning the envelope over and over
before opening it. "I wonder what Mulvaney would think!"
Three times while Mrs. Mulvaney was reading the letter she opened and
closed her mouth without uttering a sound. The fourth time she managed
to say, "Well I never!" At last she returned to the wash-boiler and
poked the clothes so vigorously it is a wonder she didn't punch holes
through them. Next she made an attack on the wash-tub. She flipped,
flapped, and jerked the clothes over the board, pounded on the soap,
and worked with such energy Johnnie didn't dare enter the kitchen. He
always peeped in the window before venturing further.
"She'd spank us," he murmured, running to warn his brothers and sisters
to "keep back."
It was well that he did so. His mother was in no mood to be trifled
with. In the shortest possible time the washing was finished and hung
on the line.
"Now then," said Mrs. Mulvaney, going in the Other Room and searching
under the bed for an old stocking which she dragged forth quickly,
"we'll see."
"More in it than I thought," she went on, pouring the contents in
her lap, then rapidly counting the money. "Eight tickets! It won't
take long to find out what they'll cost. I'll go to the Grand Central
Station and price them. Where's my good skirt?"
The garment was easily found. It was on the floor in the corner with
soiled clothes and various other articles. Mrs. Mulvaney slipped it
over her working-dress unmindful of apron strings sticking through the
placket hole in the back.
"Now my bonnet," she continued. Mrs. Mulvaney owned a bonnet, but where
to look for it was perplexing. She found it under the bed, then twisted
her hair in a tighter knot before putting it on. Finding her shawl was
a harder matter, until Mrs. Mulvaney recalled having placed it over the
dishpan in which the bread was rising, or trying to rise.
"Now I'm ready; I wonder where the young ones are? Hannah, Hannah
Mulvaney?" she called from the kitchen door, "step lively, you're all
to come in this minute."
Obedience was a shining virtue in the Mulvaney family. The children
came.
"Why, ma," protested Mike, "you ain't going to leave us, I hope."
By way of reply Mrs. Mulvaney jerked Mike through the doorway, knocking
him against Johnnie with such force the little fellow sat down in the
dishpan containing the uncovered bread dough.
"Don't stir out of this house while I'm gone," commanded Mrs. Mulvaney,
sailing away without looking behind, which was a fortunate thing for
Johnnie. Before his mother's return he had scraped off most of the
dough from his trousers, with the help of the twins.
"Kind o' sthicky, ain't it?" commented Stubbins, tasting of the dough.
"Thay! I'd give a thent to know where ma went."
"Maybe she ain't never coming back," suggested Hannah, after a long
silence.
"Yes she is; look alive, kids," shouted Chinky, "she's coming like the
fire engine. Watch out!"
"I bet she's been after a policeman, and we'll all get took to jail,"
whispered Johnnie, looking for a place to hide and finding none.
When Mrs. Mulvaney returned she said nothing at first, and the children
were too frightened by her behaviour to dare speak. They didn't know
what to think as they watched their mother count eight green slips
of paper which she afterward pinned inside her dress. The next
astonishing performance was the writing of a postal card which the
woman straightway mailed.
"Whath going to happen?" questioned Stubbins. No one knew.
"My thaketh!" was a later exclamation from Stubbins. "My thaketh alive!
Here cometh the thecond-hand man with ma!"
Even his errand was a mystery to the seven, as before he was invited
in, the children were turned out.
That night when Chinky carried the washing home, he told the customer
that it was the last work his mother would ever do for her.
"Why?" demanded the woman.
"Can't prove it by me," was the reply, "I dunno no more about it'n you
do."
The next morning the second-hand man called at eight, and carried away
the stove, the wash-boiler, the tubs, Mrs. Mulvaney's bed and bureau,
the few chairs, in fact everything that he could possibly sell. By this
time the children were absolutely terrified.
"We're going to move!" announced their mother. "What's more, we're
going to have a ride on the cars. You must all wash up and I'll tidy
your hair. Then we'll get ready to start. We ain't got a trunk to pack
things in, but we've got pa's satchel. Eight of us ought to carry
what's left here in our hands."
"How'll we take all the clothes that was give to us Christmas?" asked
Hannah.
"You'll wear 'em," was the reply. "You ain't got but three dresses to
your name, and if you can't get 'em all on, you ain't good for much.
Thin as you be, I don't know but you'll hold more clothes than just
your own. We'll see."
Mrs. Mulvaney began on poor Stubbins. He was plump and given to
stumbling anyway, but by the time his mother had squeezed him into two
suits and three overcoats of various sizes, he could scarcely wiggle,
nor could he bend his arms.
"I'll tie up a little bundle of stuff for you to carry in one hand,"
said Mrs. Mulvaney, "and you can take the clothes-stick in the other.
It's too good to leave behind. Now don't you stir," she continued,
"until the others are ready."
"Well, ma," grumbled Stubbins, "I couldn't sthir if I wanted to. I
sthick out all around ith like a pig. I thay! I'm too warm!"
Mike laughed at Stubbins, so Mrs. Mulvaney chose him for the next
victim. He quickly felt and looked like his little brother.
"You can take the kerosene can in one hand, and the dishpan in the
other," said Mrs. Mulvaney. Then Mike felt worse than Stubbins, but
protest was useless. He had to carry the kerosene can and the old
dishpan.
Johnnie looked too pleased, whereupon he was taken in hand,—"rigged
out," as his mother said. "You can carry the wash-board," she went on,
"it's almost as good as new; I don't care what the second-hand man had
to say."
"Oh, ma," besought Johnnie, "let Chinky carry the wash-board, he's
bigger. I might fall and break it."
Mrs. Mulvaney was so in the habit of spanking Johnnie she began as
usual, before she thought how well padded he was.
"Thay, ma, you'll have to thlap him," advised Stubbins. "He ith only
got hith fathe."
"Lucky for once," chuckled Mike. Even Mrs. Mulvaney laughed.
[Illustration]
In the meantime Hannah made clothes-racks of Nora and Dora. Fearing she
might have to carry the rusty tin pails herself, she asked her mother
what she wished to put in them for the twins to take.
"Provisions," was the reply, "you can pack up the bread and whatever's
left in the cupboards. Get your own extra clothes on right lively now.
You're to carry pa's picture. The frame ain't heavy and you know how to
be careful."
"Maybe I better take the pails an' you carry the picture," objected
Hannah. "I'm afraid I might spoil it. It's all I can do to manage my
arms on 'count of so many sleeves."
"I'll take the picture," offered Chinky, trying to evade the mop,
broom, clothes-line, pole, and clothes-pin basket his mother thrust
upon him.
"You'll carry what I say," declared Mrs. Mulvaney, putting on all the
garments she owned. Then she packed Mr. Mulvaney's old satchel so full
the sides burst.
"I can tie it up," said she, tearing a strip from a ragged blanket for
the purpose. "I'll have to carry pa's satchel and make these quilts and
things into a bundle. There now! there are two of your pa's old coats.
Who'll take 'em? Can't carry 'em, you say, got your hands full? I'll
fix it, Chinky, you can wear one and Hannah can wear the other. Hold
still and I'll button them around you. They're just short enough so
they won't drag."
"Look here, ma?" offered Chinky, "you roll 'em up in a tight bundle and
I guess I can carry 'em after all."
"I thought you could manage," agreed Mrs. Mulvaney. "You see we're
going where I may get some time to do fancy work, and I'm thinking of
making rugs of pa's old coats to remember him by."
"Oh, ma, look at us!" wailed Hannah when the procession was ready to
start. "Have we got to go looking like this?"
"I don't see no other way and you needn't feel bad, Hannah, because we
don't look stylish. You may be a school teacher some day," predicted
her mother. "Fact is we're all going to have a chance to be folks, and
if I was you young ones, I'd try and forget what we look like now, and
think hard about how fine we'll look next time we go on the cars with
our trunks and umbrells and land knows what; and when we all get set
down in the Grand Central Station to wait for the cars, I'll tell you
where we're going and all about it."
"Thaketh alive, ma! it don't theem ath if I could ever get there with
tho many thingth on, and thay! but you look—"
"You start your boots," interrupted the mother of Stubbins, "or you'll
feel worse'n you look."