The Weans at Rowallan Part 7

They praised her again and again. No one had ever such a triumph. But in the middle of the night yells of terror from the nursery brought Lull from her bed. Fly was sitting up in bed howling, the others were huddled round her. Mick and Honeybird were crying with her, but Jane and Patsy were dry-eyed and severe. Almighty G.o.d's eye had looked in at the window at her, Fly said. He had come to send her to h.e.l.l for the awful lie she had told. Patsy said she deserved to go. "It's in the Bible," Jane said: "all liars shall have a portion of the lake of burnin' fire an' brimstone."

"Sure, she's only a wee chile, an' how could she know any better?" Mick remonstrated. "G.o.d'd be the quare old tyrant if He sent her to h.e.l.l for a wee lie like thon."

"But, after Him lettin' her off one lie, He'll be clean mad with her by this time," said Patsy.

"Whist, childer dear," said Lull, as she put them all back to bed and tucked them in. "Sure, the Almighty has somethin' better to do than be puttin' the likes a' yous in h.e.l.l. Just be aff to sleep, an' I'll say my beads, an' the Holy Mother'll put in a good word for the chile afore mornin'."

CHAPTER VII

A STOCKING FULL OF GOLD

Mrs Kelly and her grandson Tom lived in one of the two cottages just outside the gates. Her husband, when he was alive, had worked in the garden at Rowallan. She was a sprightly little woman, rosy-cheeked and black-eyed, and always wore a black woollen hood, that had a border of grey fur, around her face. The children loved to go to tea with her, to eat potato bread just off the griddle, and hear the tales of the days when she was young: when the boys and girls would go miles for the sake of a dance, and when there was not a wake in the countryside that she did not foot it with the best, in her white muslin dress and white stockings.

Lull said Mrs Kelly hadn't her sorrows to seek. But the children thought they had never seen anyone who looked more cheerful. She herself said there were not many old women who were so well off.

"Sure, I've got me wee house, that I wouldn't change for a king's palace," she said one day, "an' me grandson Tom, that niver said a wrong word to me. Wouldn't I be the quare old witch if I didn't be thankin' Almighty G.o.d for it!"

But one morning ould Davy, who lived in the next cottage, when he came to work, brought a message from Mrs Kelly to say that Tom was ill.

Jane, who went down to see what was the matter, came back crying.

"He's goin' to die," she said, choking back her tears, "an' she's sittin' by the fire cryin' her heart out."

"Auch, the critter! she's had sorras enough without that," said Lull.

"What ails him?" Mick asked.

"He's got consumption, an' she says--she says--she's buried eight a'

them with it."

"G.o.d help her! she was the brave wee woman," said Lull.

"Mebby he'll get better," said Patsy.

"He'll niver do that in this world," Lull said sadly.

"It's just awful," said Jane. "She says there's no cure for it. It'd break yer heart to see her sittin' there."

"I'm sure as anything Doctor Dixey could cure him," said Fly. "Didn't he mend Patsy's foot when he hurted it in the thres.h.i.+n' machine? An'

didn't he take them ould ulsters out a' my throat?"

There was some hope in this, the children thought. And though Lull shook her head she allowed them to send Andy for Doctor Dixey. It was not until the evening that the doctor came. Lull had promised that they might stay up to hear what he thought about Tom. When he did come, and Lull took him down to Mrs Kelly's house, he stayed there nearly an hour. The children were getting very sleepy when he came back into the school-room.

"Well," he said, pulling up a chair to the fire, "so you want me to cure this boy Tom?"

Mick nodded.

"I think it could be done," Doctor Dixey went on. "But it would cost a deal of money--more than any of us can afford to spend."

"How much?" Jane asked.

"Ten pounds at least, and then it's only a chance. And the old woman will be left alone in any case."

They looked inquiringly at him.

"You see, the only chance is to send him abroad. He'll die if he stays here. And when he gets there he'll have to stay there. So the grandmother would miss him just as much as if he----"

"She wouldn't care," Jane interrupted. "Sure, couldn't he write letters to her if he was alive! An' he couldn't do that if he was dead."

"But the money--where's that to come from?" said Doctor Dixey.

"We'll just have to fin' it," said Mick.

"I'm afraid that will be a hard job," said Doctor Dixey as he got up to go. "But I'll see to the boy while he's here, and if you find the money I'll find the s.h.i.+p."

They sat up for another hour, talking it over with Lull. She said it was hopeless to think of such a lot of money, but the children declared that they would find it somewhere. After they had gone to bed, and Lull had put out the candle, Jane heard a noise in the dark room.

"Who's that?" she said, starting up in bed.

"It's on'y me sayin' me prayers," said Honeybird.

"Ye said them wanst afore," said Jane. "Get into bed, an' be quiet."

Honeybird got into bed, but in about three minutes she was out again.

"What's the matter now?" said Jane.

"It's on'y me sayin' me prayers," Honeybird answered.

"Sure, ye said them twiced afore," said Fly crossly.

"I'm sayin' them three times for luck," said Honeybird as she got back into bed.

Next morning Mick and Jane started off together to look for the money.

Soon after they had gone Honeybird came into the kitchen with her best hood on, and said she was going out to see somebody. "Don't ye be feared," she said when Lull had tied the strings of her hood. "I'll be away the quare long time, but I'll bring ye all somethin' nice when I come back."

An hour later she was knocking at the door of the big white house, two miles away, where old Mr M'Keown lived. None of the children had ever been there before; but they had heard about Mr M'Keown from Teressa, who went once a week to do his was.h.i.+ng, and who had told them stories of how he lived all by himself, with not even a servant to look after him, and kept all his money tied up in old stockings.

Honeybird's heart was full of joy. Last night she had asked Almighty G.o.d to let her find the money for Tom Kelly, and when she got back into bed for the last time Almighty G.o.d had reminded her that old Mr M'Keown had stockings full of gold.

After rapping for a long time on the panels of the front door--she could not reach the knocker--she walked round to the back of the house, and knocked there. But still there was no answer. Then she tried the side door. By this time her knuckles were sore, and, as she found she could turn the handle, she opened the door, and walked in. A long pa.s.sage led to the hall, where she stopped, and looked round. There were doors on every side, but they were all shut. The first door she opened showed another pa.s.sage, the second led into a dark room. But when she opened the third door she saw an old man sitting in an arm-chair by a fire. Honeybird smiled at him. Then she shut the door carefully behind her, and went up to him, holding out her hand.

"An' how're ye, Mister M'Keown?" she said.

A bony hand closed over hers for a second, but Mr M'Keown did not speak. Honeybird pulled up a chair to the fire. "I hurted me han'

rappin' on thon dours," she said, "so I just come in at last."

"May I ask who you are?" said Mr M'Keown in a thin voice.