The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys Part 25

At her wash place the widow had heard nothing, the wind having carried all sounds of commotion the other way, and there were no children in the family to come unexpectedly home bringing the news. It was when she stepped into her own kitchen, earlier than usual, and found Barney and Tommie there with Larry, who had accompanied them that day as visitor, that she first heard of the fire. And the important thing to Barney and Tommie was that their vacation had come sooner than they had hoped.

Later came Jim, stepping high from the General's praise. But his mother thought nothing of that. Jim's ways were apt to be airy.

But when Pat and Mike came to supper the story was told. The widow listened with an expression of pride. And when the story and the supper were finished she took little Jim by the hand and led him along the tortuous path through the furniture to the family seat of honor. "Sit there in the father's chair," she commanded. "I niver thought to be puttin' wan of my b'ys there for foightin', but foightin's the thing sometimes."

This was on Tuesday. The next day the leading paper of the town came out, and it contained a full account of little Jim's coolness and bravery.

"They'll be spoilin' little Jim, so they will," said the widow as she read with glistening eyes. Then she rose to put the paper carefully away among the few family treasures, and set about making little Jim a wonderful pudding. If he were to be spoiled she might as well have a hand in it. "Though maybe he won't be nayther," she said. "Him that had that much sinse had ought to have enough to stand praisin'."

That evening home came Andy to find his mother absorbed in the fascinating occupation of hearing from little Jim's own lips what each individual person had said to him during the day.

"Well," little Jim was saying just as Andy came in, "I should think they'd said 'most enough. I didn't do anything but keep them lubberly boys from trampin' the girls down, and it was easy enough done, too."

At which speech the widow perceived that, as yet, little Jim was not particularly spoiled by all his praise. "'Twas the history book that done it," thought the mother thankfully. "Sure and he knows he's done foine, but he ain't been braggin' on himself much since he took to that, I've noticed. There's books of all sorts, so there is, some for wan thing and some for another, but it's the history book that cures the consate."

"We're very busy up at our house," observed Andy. And the widow could scarcely bring herself to heed him.

"Yes," went on Andy. "We've been baking cake to-day, and there's more to do to-morrow. The General and Mrs. Brady are going to give little Jim a party Friday evening. General Brady is wonderfully pleased with Jim."

Then indeed he had his mother's attention. "A party, is it?" she said with gratified pride. "'Tis the Gineral and Mrs. Brady that knows how to take a body's full cup and jist run it over. I couldn't have wished nothin' no better than that. And n.o.body couldn't nayther. I'll be up to-morrow mysilf to help and the nixt day, too. Don't tell me there's nothin' I can't be doin'. Jim can run things to home, can't you, Jim?"

Little Jim thought he could.

"I'll have Pat and Moike see to gettin' him a new suit to-morrow. It's late to be gettin' him a new suit and him a-growin'; but if he can't wear it nixt fall Barney can, and it's proud he'll be to do it, I'm thinkin'. 'Tisn't often the nixt youngest b'y has a chance to wear a new suit got for his brother because he done good and hadn't nothin' fit to wear to a party, nayther. But Wennott's the town. A party for my Jim, and at Gineral Brady's, too! Would anybody have belaved it when we come with nothin' to the shanty? 'Tis the proudest thing that iver come to us, but no pride could there be about it if little Jim hadn't desarved it."

The widow's heart was full. "Ivery b'y? as he has come along, has made me proud," she went on. "First Pat and then Moike and then you, Andy, with your book, and now little Jim with his foightin'. And that's what beats me, that I should be proud of my b'y's foightin'. And I am that."

Friday evening seemed a long way off to little Jim when he lay down on his bed that night. He had never attended a party in his life. Andy had spoken of cake, and, by private questioning, little Jim had discovered that there would be ice cream. He tried to imagine what a party was like, but having no knowledge to go on, he found the effort wearisome and so dropped asleep.

CHAPTER XXI

Little Jim had never been farther than General Brady's kitchen. It was a kitchen of which he approved because it had no path in it. One might go through it in a great hurry without coming to grief on some chair back, or the footboard of the mother's bed, or the rocker of the father's chair. Neither was one in danger of bringing up suddenly on the corner of the table, or against the side of the stove. The younger O'Callaghans were free from numerous bruises only because they knew their way and proceeded with caution. There was no banging the door open suddenly at the shanty, because there was always some article of furniture behind the door to catch it and bang it back sharply into a boy's face. It was upon these differences in the two kitchens that little Jim reflected when, arrayed in the new suit, he slipped around the house and was ushered in by Andy.

"What's this!" cried the General, who had caught a glimpse of the swiftly scudding little figure as it rounded the corner. "What's this!"

and he stood smiling at the door that opened from the back of the hall into the kitchen. "The hero of the hour coming in by the back door. This will never do, Jim. Come with me."

Bravely little Jim went forward. He stepped into the hall close behind the General, and suddenly glanced down. He could hardly believe his ears. Was he growing deaf? There walked the General ahead of him, and little Jim could not hear a footfall, neither could he hear his own tread.

But little Jim said nothing. They were now come to the hall tree, and the General himself helped his guest off with his overcoat and hung it beside his own. And as for little Jim, he could hang up his own cap when his host showed him where.

Then in through the parlor door they went and on through the folding doors into the sitting-room where Mrs. Brady stood among her plants. She had just cut two lovely roses from the same bush, and one she pinned on her husband's coat and the other on little Jim's jacket.

"Parties is queer," thought little Jim, "but they're nice."

For Mrs. Brady, in her quiet way, was contriving to let the boy understand that she thought exceedingly well of him. It began to grow dusk, but it was not yet so dark that little Jim failed to see Pat and Mike come in and run lightly up the stairs. And then there was a tramp of feet outside, the doorbell rang, and as the electric light flooded the house, Andy opened the front door and in trooped boys and girls.

Little Jim was amazed. Not one came into the parlor, but Andy sent them all upstairs.

"Is them boys and girls the party?" he asked quickly of Mrs. Brady.

"Yes, Jim," was the kind answer. "Your party."

Little Jim reflected. "I'd best not be lickin' any of the boys then this evenin'?" And he turned inquiring eyes on Mrs. Brady.

Mrs. Brady smiled. "No, Jim," she replied. "You must try to please them in every way that you can, and make them enjoy themselves."

"Let 'em do just as they're a moind to, and not raise a fuss about it?"

"Yes."

Little Jim straightened himself. "I never seen no parties before," he said, "but I guess I can run it."

And then downstairs came the guests and into the parlor to shake hands with General and Mrs. Brady and Jim. The gay company spread themselves through the parlor and sitting-room. They chattered, they laughed, they got up from their seats and sat down again, and all the time little Jim had a keen eye upon them. He had never before seen little girls dressed so, and he noticed that every boy had a flower on his jacket.

And then little Jim bestirred himself. He was here, there, and everywhere. Did a girl suggest a game, Jim so engineered that the whole company were soon engaged in it, and he himself was the gayest player of all. Not once did he suggest anything. But often he slipped up to Mrs.

Brady or the General and did what he had never done before in his life--asked advice.

"Am I runnin' it right?" he would whisper in Mrs. Brady's ear; and murmur apologetically to the General, "I never seen no parties before."

"And how do you like parties, Jim?" asked the General indulgently.

"I think there's nothin' to equal 'em," was the fervent answer. And then away went the young host.

At half-past nine Andy appeared at the hall door. Jim saw him and his heart sank. Was the party over? He feared so, since Mrs. Brady, followed by the General, went out of the room. But in a moment the General came back to the doorway. The guests seemed to understand, for a sudden hush fell on the talkative tongues. The General saw Jim's uncertain expression and beckoned to him.

"We are going out to supper," he said. "Go ask Annie Jamieson to walk out with you."

Jim obeyed promptly. All at once he remembered the cake and ice cream.

His heart swelled with pride as he led the pretty little girl across the hall and into the dining-room. And there were Pat and Mike and Andy showing the guests to their places and prepared to wait upon them. And if they beamed upon little Jim, he beamed back with interest. He was supremely happy. How glad he was that Mike had taught him Mrs. Brady's way of laying the table, and how to eat properly! He thought of his mother and wished that she might see him. But she was at home caring for Barney and Tommie and Larry.

"Sure and I can't lave 'em by thimsilves in the evenin'. Something moight happen to 'em," said this faithful mother.

Such food Jim had not tasted before, but he ate sparingly. He was too happy to eat, for little Jim, although extremely fond of pudding, was no glutton. There he sat with his auburn hair on end, his blue eyes bright and s.h.i.+ning, smiles and grave looks chasing themselves over his face till the General was prouder of him than ever.

"I'm not sure but he's _the_ O'Callaghan," he told his wife, when the children had gone back to the parlor for a final game before the party should break up. "But it is that mother of his and his older brothers who have brought him on."

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Pat and Mike and Andy washed the dishes and put things to rights with three hearts full of pride in little Jim.

"To think the mother was afraid he would turn out an agitator!" said Pat.

"This night settles that," responded Mike. "He's more likely to turn out a society man. He'll be a credit to us all."

At last the guests were gone. And then for the first time little Jim's eyes examined with keen scrutiny the pretty rooms, while the General and Mrs. Brady kept silence, content to observe him with affectionate interest. Finally the boy came back from things to people, and he came with a sigh.

"Have you enjoyed yourself?" asked the General, smiling.