Here it was that the real fun was going on! From the centre of the
veiling hung a strong piece of cord, with cross sticks, about eighteen
inches long, at the end. On each end of one of these sticks was stuck
a short piece of lighted candle, while on the ends of the other were
stuck small apples of a peculiarly good kind. The cross was then set
turning, when some plucky hero snapped at the apples as they went
round, but as often caught the lighted candle in his mouth, when a
hearty laugh from the circle of spectators proclaimed his
discomfiture. On the other hand, if fortunate enough to secure one of
the apples, a clapping of hands, and shouts of "Well done!" proclaimed
his victory.
A little to one side of this "merry-go-round" was a huge tub of
spring-water, fresh from the pump, and as clear as crystal. It was
intended that the performers at this portion of the fun should,
stripped to the waist, dive for pence or whatever silver the
by-standers chose to throw in. Up to this it had not come into play,
for until their "betthers came down from the parlor" no silver was
thrown in; and the youngsters were "loth to wet theirsel's for
nothin'." Now, however, a _tenpenny-bit_ from Tom Murdock soon
glittered on the bottom of the tub, a full foot and a half under
water. Forthwith two or three young fellows "peeled off," to prove
their abilities as divers. The first, a black-haired fellow, with a
head as round as a cannon-ball, after struggling and bubbling until
the people began to think he was smothering, came up without the
prize. He was handed a kitchen towel to rub himself with; while one of
the other young gladiators adjusted the tenpenny-bit in the middle of
the tub, drew in a long breath, and down he went like a duck. He
was not nearly so long down as the other had been; he neither
struggled nor bubbled, and came up with the money between his teeth.
"It wasn't your first time, Jamesy, anyhow," said one.
"How did you get a hoult of it, Jamesy avic?" said another.
But he kept drying his head, and never minding them.
Another tenpenny was then thrown in by old Ned Cavana; it withstood
repeated efforts, but was at last fairly brought up. Jamesy seemed to
be the most expert, for having lifted this second tenpenny, his
abilities were finally tested with a _fippenny-bit_, which after one
or two failures he brought up triumphantly in his teeth; all the other
divers having declined to try their powers upon it.
By this time the kitchen floor was very wet, and it was thought,
particularly by the contributors to the tub, that there had been
enough of that sort of fun. The girls, who were standing in whatever
dry spots of the flags they could find, thought so too; they, did not
wish to wet their shoes before the dance, and there was another move
back to the parlor.
Here the scene was completely changed, as if indeed by magic, as
nobody had been missed for the performance. The long table was no
where to be seen, while the chairs and forms were ranged along the
walls, and old Murrin the piper greeted their entrance with an
enlivening jig.
Partners were of course selected at once, and as young Lennon _happened_
to be coming in from the kitchen with Winny Cavana at the moment, they
were soon with arms akimbo footing it to admiration opposite each
other. Not far from them another couple were exhibiting in like
manner. They were Tom Murdock and Kate Mulvey; while several other
pairs were "footing it" through the room. To judge from the
self-satisfied smile upon Kate Mulvey's handsome lips, she was not a
little proud or well pleased at having taken Tom Murdock from the
belle of the party; for she had too much self-esteem to think that it
was the belle of the party had been taken from Tom Murdock.
I need not pursue the several sets which were danced, nor
particularize the pairs who were partners on the occasion. Of course
Tom Murdock took the first opportunity possible to claim the hand of
Winifred Cavana for a dance. Indeed, he was ill-pleased that in his
own house he had permitted any chance circumstance to prevent his
having opened the dance with her, and apologized for it--"but it
happened in a manner over which he had no control." He had picked up
that expression at a race-course.
With all his bitterness he had the good sense not to make a scene by
endeavoring to frustrate that which he had not the tact to obviate by
pre-arrangement. Winny had made no reply to his apology, and he
continued, "I did not ask Kate Mulvey to dance until I saw you led out
by young Lennon."
"That is a bad compliment to Kate," she observed.
"I can't help that," said he gruffly; "some people take time d-mn-bly
by the forelock."
"That cannot apply to either him or me in this case; there were two
pairs dancing before he asked me."
Now although this was certainly not said by way of reproach to Tom for
not himself being sooner, it was unanswerable, and he did not try to
answer it. He was not however in such good humor as to forward himself
much in Winny's good opinion, and Emon-a-knock, who watched him
closely, was content that he should be her sole beau for the rest of
the evening.
Refreshments were now brought in; cold punch for the boys and "nagus"
for the girls; for old Murdock could afford to make a splash, and this
he thought "was his time to do it. If any one was hungry, there was
plenty of cold mate and bread on the kitchen dresser." But after
the calcannon and tea, nobody seemed to hear him.
After the liquor on the first tray was disposed of, and the glasses
collected for a replenish, a solo jig was universally called for. The
two best dancers in the province were present--Tom Murdock and Edward
Lennon, so there could be no failure.
Old Murdock had never seen young Lennon dance until that night, and so
far as he could judge, "he was not the man that Tom need be afraid
of." He had often seen Tom's best dancing, and certainly nothing which
young Lennon had exhibited there up to that time could at all touch
it.
"Come, Tom," said he, "give the girls a specimen of what you can do,
your lone," and he laid the poker and tongs across each other in the
middle of the floor.
Paddy Murrin struck up a spirit-stirring jig, which no one could
resist. The girls were all dancing it "to themselves," and young
Lennon's feet were dying to be at it, but of course he must wait.
Indeed he was not anxious to exhibit in opposition to his host's son,
but feared his reputation as a dancer would put him in for it.
Tom Murdock having been thus called on, was tightening the fung of one
of his pumps, to begin. Turning then to Murrin, he called for "the
fox-hunter's jig."
He now commenced, and like a knowing professor of his art "took it
easy" at the commencement, determined however to astonish them ere he
had done. He felt that he was dancing well, but knew that he could
dance much better, and would presently do so. He had often tried the
"poker and tongs jig," but hitherto never quite to his satisfaction.
He had sometimes come off perfectly victorious, without touching them,
but as often managed to kick them about the floor. He was now on his
mettle, not only on account of Winny Cavana, but also because "that
whelp, Lennon, was looking on, which he had no right to be." For a
while he succeeded admirably. He had tipped each division of the cross
with both heel and toe, several times with rapid and successful
precision; but becoming enthusiastic, as the plaudits passed round, he
called to Murrin "to play faster," when after a few moments of
increased speed, he tripped in the tongs, and came flat on his back
upon the floor. He was soon up again, and a few touches of the
clothes-brush set all to rights, except the irrepressible titter that
ran round the room.
Of course there was an excuse one of the fungs of his pump had again
loosened and caught in the tongs. This was not merely an excuse, but a
fact, upon which Tom Murdock built much consolation for his "partial
failure," as he himself jocosely called it; but he was savage at
heart.
There was a general call now from the girls for young Lennon, and
"Emon-a-knock, Emon-a-knock," resounded on all sides. He would not
rise, however; he was now more unwilling than ever to "dance a match,"
as he called it to himself, with his host's son.
The "partial failure" of his rival--and he was honest enough to admit
that it was but partial, and could not have been avoided--gave him
well-founded hopes of a triumph. He too had tried his powers of
agility by the poker and tongs test, and oftener with success than
otherwise. It was some time now since he had tried it, as latterly he
had not much time to spare for such amusements. He was unwilling, but
not from fear of failure, to get up; but no excuse would be taken; he
was caught by the collar of his coat by two sturdy handsome girls, and
dragged into the middle of the room. Thus placed before the
spectators, he could not refuse the ordeal, as it might be called.
He had his wits about him, however. He had seen Tom Murdock whisper
something to the piper when he was first called on to stand up, and it
proved that he was not astray as to its purport.
Recollecting the jig he was in the habit of dancing the poker and
tongs to, he asked the piper to play it. Murrin hesitated, and at last
came out with a stammer that "he hadn't it, but he'd give him one as
good," striking up the most difficult jig in the Irish catalogue to
dance to.
"No," said Lennon stoutly, "I heard you play the jig I called for a
hundred times, and no later than last night, Pat, at Jemmy Mullarky's,
as I passed home from work, and I'll have no other."
"I took whatever jig he happened to strike up," said Tom with a sneer.
"You might have had your choice, for that matter, and I daresay you
had," replied Lennon, "and I'll have mine! It is my right."
"If a man can dance," continued Tom, "he ought to be able to dance to
any jig that's given him; it's like a man that can only say his
prayers out of his own book." And there was a suppressed smile at
Lennon's expense.
He saw it, and his blood was up in a moment.
"He may play any jig he chooses now," exclaimed Lennon, "except one,
and that is the one _you_ told him to play," taking his chance that his
suspicions were correct as to the purport of the whisper.
"I'll play the one I pled for the young masther himself; an' if that
doesn't shoot you, you needn't dance at all," said Murrin, apparently
prompted again by Tom Murdock.
This was a decision from which no impartial person could dissent, and
Lennon seemed perfectly satisfied, but after all this jaw and
interruption he felt in no great humor to dance, and almost feared the
result.
As he stood up he caught a glance from Winny's eye which banished
every thought save that of complying with that look. If ever a look
planted an undying resolve in a man's heart it was that. It called him
"Emon" as plain as if she had spoken it, and said, "Don't let _that
fellow_ put you down," and quick as the glance was it added, "he's a
nasty fellow."
To it now Emon went with his whole heart. He cared not what jig Pat
Murrin played, "or any other piper," he was able for them.
At first the quiet tipping of his heel and toe upon the floor, with
now and then a flat stamp which threw up the dust, was inimitable. As
he got into the "merits of the thing," the music was obliged to vie
with him in activity. It seemed as much as if he was dancing for the
piper to play to, as that the piper was playing for him to dance.
Those who were up to the merits of an Irish jig, could have told the
one he was dancing to if there had been no music at all. There was a
tip, a curl, or a stamp for every note in the tune. In fact he played
the jig upon the floor with his feet. He now closed the poker and
tongs with confidence, while Tom Murdock looked on with a malicious
hope that he too would bungle the business; and Winny Cavana looked on
with a timid fear of the same result. But he danced through and
amongst them as if by magic--a toe here, and a heel there, in each
compartment of the crossed irons with the rapidity of lightning, but
he never touched one of them.
"Quicker! quicker," cried Murdock to the piper, seeing that Lennon was
perfect master of his position.
"Aye, as quick as you like," stammered Lennon, almost out of breath;
and the increased speed of the music brought forth more striking
performance, testified to by the applause which greeted his finishing
bow.
He caught a short glance again from Winny's eye, as he passed to a
vacant seat. "Thank you, Emon, from my heart," it said, as plainly as
the other had spoken when he stood up.
It was now well on in the small hours, and as old Murdock and his son
had both ceased in a manner to do any more honors, their silence was
accepted as a sort of "notice to quit," and there was a general
move in search of bonnets and cloaks. Tom Murdock knew that he was in
the dumps, and wisely left Winny to her father's escort. Lennon's way
lay by the Mulveys, and he was "that far" with Kate and some others.
Indeed, all the branch roads and pathways were echoing to the noisy
chat and opinions of the scattered party on their several ways home.