Humours of Irish Life Part 44

"Aw, childer, dear," giggled Judy, with a heaving of her narrow shoulders. "Aw, go they did!"

"Good girl, Anne," said I, and slapped my leg "my roarin' girl! Aw, an'

go they did, Judy--go they did."

"Well, hearts alive," Anne went on, "Wednesday evenin' comes at last; an' sharp at five o'clock up me brave Jane Flaherty steps along the lane, crosses the yard, an' mindin' her manners, knocks twice on Hannah's back door--then turns, an' wi' the dog yelpin' at her, an' the gander hissin' like a wet stick on a fire, waits like a beggarwoman on the step. But divil a one comes to the door; aw, not a one. An' sorrow a soul budged inside; aw, not a soul. So round turns Jane, lifts her fist again, hits the door three thundering bangs, an' looks another while at the gander. Not a budge in the door, not a move inside; so Jane, not to be done out of her tay, lifts the latch,--an', sure as the sun was shinin', but the bolt was shot inside. 'Well, dang me,' says Jane, an'

hits the door a kick, 'but this is a fine way to treat company,' says she, an' rattles the latch, an' shakes it. At last, in the divil of a temper, spits on the step, whips up her skirts, an' cursin' Hannah high up an' low down, starts for home.

"She got as far as the bend in the lane, an' there meets Mary Dolan.

"'What's up?' axes Mary. 'What's floostered ye, Jane Flaherty? Aren't ye goin' to have your tay, me dear?' says Mary.

"'Aw, may the first sup she swallows choke the breath in her,' shouts Jane, an' goes on to tell her story; an' before she'd said ten words, up comes Sally Hogan.

"'Am I too late?' says Sally, 'or am I too early?' says she, 'or what in glory ails the two o' ye?'

"'Ails?' shouts Jane. 'Ye may well say that, Sally Hogan. Ye may turn on your heel,' says she, an' begins her story again; an' before she was half through it Sally laughs out, and takes Jane by the arm, an' starts back to the house.

"'Come away,' says she; 'come away an' have your tay, Jane; sure, ye don't know Hannah yet.'

"So back the three goes--but not through the yard. Aw, no. 'Twas through the wee green gate, an' down the walk, an' slap up to the hall door Sally takes them; an' sure enough the first dab on the knocker brings a fut on the flags inside, an' there's Kitty, the servant girl, in her boots an' her stockin's, an' her Sunday dress an' a white ap.r.o.n on her, standin' before them.

"'Aw, an' is that you, Kitty Malone,' says Sally. 'An' how's yourself, Kitty, me dear? An' wid Mrs. Breen be inside?' says she.

"'She is so, Mrs. Hogan,' answers Kitty, an' bobs a kind of curtsy. 'Wid ye all be steppin' in, please?'

"'Aw, the Lord's sake,' gasps Sally on the door step, at all this grandeur; 'the Lord's sake,' says she, an' steps into the hall; an' in steps Mary Dolan, an' in steps Jane Flaherty, an' away the three o' them goes at Kitty's heels up to the parlour.... 'Aw, heavenly hour,' cried Anne, and turned up her eyes.

"Well, dears," Anne went on, "in the three walks, bonnets an' all, an'

sits them down along the wall on three chairs, an' watches Kitty close the door; then looks at each other in a puzzled kind o' way, an', after that, without openin' a lip, casts their eyes about the room. 'Twas the funniest kind of a place, Jane allowed, that iver she dropped eyes on.

There was a sheep-skin, lyin' woolly side up, in front o' the fireplace, an' a calf-skin near the windy, an' a dog's skin over be the table, an'

the floor was painted brown about three fut all round the walls. There was pieces of windy-curtain over the backs o' the chairs; there was a big fern growin' in an ould drain-pipe in the corner; there was an ould straw hat o' John's stuffed full o' flowers an' it hangin' on the wall, an' here an' there, all round it an' beside it were picters cut from the papers an' then tacked on the plaster. Ye could hardly see the mantelshelf, Jane allowed, for all the trumpery was piled on it, dinglum-danglums of gla.s.s an' chaney, an' sh.e.l.ls from the say, an' a sampler stuck in a frame, an' in the middle of all a picter of Hannah herself got up in all her finery. An' there was books, an' papers, an'

fal-lals, an' the sorrow knows what, lyin' about; an' standin' against the wall, facin' the windy, was a wee table, wi' a cloth on it about the size of an ap.r.o.n, an' it wi' a fringe on it, no less, an' it spread skew-wise an' lookin' for all the world like a white ace o' diamonds; an' on the cloth was a tray wi' cups an' saucers, an' sugar an' milk, an' as much bread an' b.u.t.ter, cut as thin as gla.s.s, as you'd give a sick child for its supper.... 'Aw, heavenly hour,' cried Anne, 'heavenly hour!'

"Aw, childer, dear," cried Judy.

"Aw, woman alive," said I. "Aw, Judy, dear."

"Well, childer, the three looks at all, an' looks at each other, an'

shifts on their chairs, an' looks at each other again, an' says Mary Dolan at last:--

"'We're in clover, me dears,' says she, 'judgin' be the spread beyont'--and she nods at the wee table.

"'Ah that'il do for a start,' says Sally Hogan; 'but where in glory are we all to put our legs under that wee table? Sure it'l be an ojus squeeze.'

"'It will so,' says Jane Flaherty, 'it will so. But isn't it powerful quare o' Hannah to keep us sittin' here so long in our bonnets an'

shawls, an' us dreepin' wi' the heat?'

"'It's the quarest hole I iver was put in,' says Mary Dolan, 'an' if this is grandeur, give me the ould kitchen at home wi' me feet on the hearth an' me tay on a chair.... Phew,' says Mary, an' squints round at the windy, 'phew, but it's flamin' hot! Aw,' says she, an' makes a dart from her chair, 'dang me, but I'll burst if I don't get a mouthful o'

fresh air.' An' just as she had her hand on the sash to lift it, the door opens an' in steps me darlin' Hannah.

"'Good evenin', ladies all," says Hannah, marchin' in wi' some kind of a calico affair, made like a shroud wi' frills on it, hangin' on her, 'Good evenin', ladies,' says she, an' wi' her elbow c.o.c.ked up in the air as if she was strivin' to sc.r.a.pe it against the ceilin', goes from one to another an' shakes hands. 'It's a very pleasant afternoon' (them was the words), says she, makin' for a chair beside the wee table; 'an' I'm very pleased to see ye all,' says she.

"'Aw, an' the same here,' says Mary Dolan, in her free way, 'the same here; an' ojus nice ye look in that sack of a calico dress, so ye do,'

says Mary, wi' a wink at Jane Flaherty. 'But it's meself'd feel obliged to ye if so be ye'd open the windy an' give us a mouthful o' fresh air,'

says Mary.

"An' Hannah sits down in her shroud wi' the frills on it, an' smiles, an' says she, 'I'm rather delicate' (them were the words) 'this afternoon, Mrs. Dolan, an' afeered o' catchin' cold; an', forby that,'

says she, 'the dust is so injurious for the parlour.'

"'Aw, just so,' answers Mary, 'just so. Sure, I wouldn't for worlds have ye spoil your parlour for the likes of us. But I'll ax your leave, Mrs.

Breen, seein' ye don't ax me yourself, to give me own health a chance,'

says she, 'be throwin' this big shawl off me shoulders.'

"'But it's afternoon tay, Mrs. Dolan,' answers Hannah, in her cool way; 'an' it's not fashionable at afternoon tay for ladies to remove--'

"'Then afternoon tay be danged,' says Mary, an' throws the shawl off her across the back of her chair; 'an' it's meself'll not swelter for all the fashions in the world,' says she, an' pushes her bonnet back an'

lets it hang be the strings down her back. 'Aw, that's great,' says she, wi' a big sigh; an' at that off goes Jane's shawl an' bonnet, an' off goes Sally's; an' there the three o' them sits, wi' Hannah lookin' at them disgusted as an a.s.s at a field of thistles over a gate.... Aw, glory be," cried Anne.

"Aw, me bould Anne," cried Judy; "me brave girl."

"Well, dears, Hannah sits her down, puts her elbow on a corner o' the ace o' diamonds, rests her cheek on her hand, an' goes on talking about this and that. She hoped Mrs. Flaherty, an' Mrs. Dolan, an' Mrs. Hogan were well an' prosperous; she hoped the crops were turnin' out well; she hoped all the childer were in the best o' good health. Aw, like the Queen o' Connaught Hannah talked, an' smiled, an' aired herself an' her beautiful English, but sorrow a move did she make to shift her elbow off the wee table-cloth, an' divil a sign or smell o' tay was there to be seen. Aw, not a one. Ten minutes went, an' twenty, an' half an hour; an'

at that, up Mary Dolan stretched her arms, gives a powerful big yawn, an', says she, 'Och, dear Lord,' says she, 'dear Lord, but the throat's dry in me! Och, och,' says she--an' with the hint up gets Hannah in her frilled shroud, crosses the calf-skin, opens the door, an' calls for Kitty. 'Yis, Mrs. Breen,' answers Kitty from the Kitchen. 'Serve tay,'

calls Hannah; then closes the door an' steps back to her chair by the wee table.

"In about ten minutes, here comes me darlint Kitty, boots an' stockin's an' all; carries the taypot on a plate over to the table, an' plants it down slap in the middle o' the ace o' diamonds. Up jumps Hannah wi' a bounce.

"'What are you doin' Kitty?' says she, with a snap of her jaw, an' lifts the taypot, an' glares at the black ring it had made on her brand new cloth. 'D'ye see what you've done?' says she, pointin' her finger, 'stand back and mend your manners, ye ignorant little baggage, ye!'--

"'Yis, ma'am,' answers Kitty, an' stands back; then turns her head, when she gets to the calf-skin, an' winks at the three sittin' by the wall; an' out Mary Dolan bursts into a splutter of a laugh.

"'Aw, Lord,' says Mary, an' holds her ribs; 'aw, dear Lord,' says she.

But Hannah, standin' pourin' tay into the wee cups, just kept her face as straight as if Mary was a dummy, an' in a minute she turns round to Kitty.

"'Hand the cups to the ladies,' says she, an' sits her down.

"Well, childer dear, Kitty steps from the calf-skin, lifts two cups an'

saucers from the tray, carries them across the floor, an' offers one to Jane Flaherty, wi' this hand, an' t'other to Sally Hogan wi' that hand.

An' Sally looks at the cup, an' then at Kitty; an' Jane looks at Kitty, an' then at the cup, an' says Sally:

"'Is it take it from ye you'd have me do, Kitty Malone?' says she.

"'It is so,' answers Kitty wi' a grin.

"'An' where in glory wid ye have me put it, Kitty Malone?' asks Sally an' looks here an' there. 'Sure--sure, there's no table next or near me,' says she.

"'It's afternoon tay, Mrs. Hogan,' says Hannah across the floor; 'an' at afternoon tay, tables aren't fashionable,' says she, an' grins to herself.

"'Well, thank G.o.d, Hannah Breen,' says Mary Dolan, 'that afternoon tay, as ye call it, has only come my way once in me life. Take the cup in your fist, Sally Hogan,' says Mary, 'an' if ye break it, bad luck go with it, an' if ye don't, you've been a lady for once in your life; an'