SWEET SHAMROCK

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 214, 10 September 1931, Page 19

SWEET SHAMROCK

■ . BY; ■ —— A. GOWER STEPHENS ("The Red Pagan").

CHAPTER V. Granny received the glass and sniffed the liquor ecstatically, moving it to and fro beneath her Roman old nose. "Eighah," she said, "'tis the real. A glass for the gentleman, Shamrock."' "Oh, granny," expostulated Shamrock, "Mr. Stafford doesn't want any. He bought it for you; it's medicine." "Never call the good tfVink medicine," said granny firmly. "Medicine! Pfaugh! Get the glass." "I suppose I had better," complained Shamrock, ai.d darted off again. "The night is grand," said granny to me; "grand entirely." Shamrock came back with a wine glass, which granny noticed at once. It is my belief that the old lady saw and heard better than any of us. "Let her pour it," said granny. "Now, sir?" Granny's manner was commanding. I was sharply recalled to my duty. "May I have the honour of a glass of wine with you, madam?" I asked, respectfully, taking the glass which , Shamrock handed me with a generous measure of gin, and the whisper, "You'll be frightfully scented, Peter, but I don't mind if you don't." "Granted with delight," said granny. "Sir and Shamrock, I say 110 more." Granny sipped so delicately that I would not have known she was drinking. "Now we're going downstairs, Granny," said Shamrock meditatively. "Are you sure you'll be all right? I have a kind of feeling —" "I will be taken care of," said Granny firmly. The old lady had improved wonderfully upon the stimulant. Her eyes seemed to glitter; and—if it had not been impossible—l would have sworn that she put out her tongue at Shamrock. "Go, Shamrock, darling, I will be well taken care of. I heard her last night, indeed," she added mysteriously. "Oh, Granny," exclaimed Shamrock, aghast, "not the Banshee?" "Do not name her, Shamrock," commanded the old lady; "sure 'tis ill to name the nameless. But she was singing kindly indeed—it might have been like prophesying that one would be coming— 'twas the little song She used to make when your grandfather was courting me, and maybe She ckme to sec if I was the clean potato, and I. was." "It isn't Granny's Banshee really," explained Shamrock; "it is the famous Banshee of the O'Sheas, that we've had for a thousand . years—as far back as anybody can remember. Grandfather used to say that it came into the family when the O'Sheas beat the O'Briens at the battle of Cloyne Water, but Mr. O'Brien says that can't be true, because the O'Briens were never beaten at Cloyne Water or anywhere else, and it must have been some other tribe—anyway, it's real enough—l've heard it myself." "What is it like?" I asked curiously. _ Granny interposed majestically. "She's like the soft wind that walks the glen in the early morning in the spring-time just liodding the heather; and She's like the singing of the stars over the dark mountain on a clear night; and She's tender and cooing like the doves in the cote when I v. as a green sprig of a colleen at home in Kildare—and that's how She came last night. And She's a fierce and terrible warning, with a yowl that curdles the blood in the five corners of your heart, and a sorrow that freezes the marrow in your bones, and a long shiversome wail that's like the keening of all the widows of Kildare, and that's how I heard Her once and twice, and pray blessed Heaven I never hear her like that again. And it's getting dry I am, talking, Shamrock, my love —and mavbe—" , 17 "Not another drop, Granny!" declared Shamrock. "That must be awfully strong gin; I haven't heard you so eloquent for a long time. You see, Peter, when Grandfather O'Shea came to Australia he was the last of his tribe, and the Banshee had to come with him, or else it would have had no family to watch over, because, of, course, it wouldn't watch over the English that the castle was mortgaged to; and how it made the voyage we don't know, but we think it flew, and overtaxed its strength—or perhaps it stowed away and got seasick—anyway it had a very weak voice for years; not much more than a croak, until Grandfather died; when it got as strong as a lion for a whole week before. And then it stayed minding Granny, because she came next, and I think it's fond of me, because none of the others can hear it but Granny and me—not even the aunts, who, you'd think, would be closer to it than I am. But Mr. O'Brien says that Banshees sometimes do hop a generation like that, though ours is the first he's ever heard of in Australia—he didn't think there were any here, and he wouldn't believe me till I brought him up to Granny and she convinced him." "Hist!"'said'Granny suddenly. "What was that? I thought I heard Her; 'tis bad luck to speak of Her. so frequentgo now, Shamrock dear, before She gets vexed, and let me smoke my pipe in peace till they come for me. Wait! I saw one." . v .. Granny stooped at the side of her chair, picked up something, and threw it at the tree in front of me. A dim shape leapt down the trunk and disappeared. "Aunt Phemy lets one cat out for ah airing every night," explained Shamrock; there's one in the tree now—fastened to that low branch—though you can't see her from here; but cats' visitors aren't allowed; and Aunt Phemy bribes granny to throw a stone at any strange cat that comes prowling around—she has a little heap of stones all ready; and she gets most of her tobacco from Aunt Phemy: though that's a dead secret, and you must never breathe a word about it to the aunts; they think I give it to her." Granny had seated herself again, with her head down; she spoke vaguely. "I'll maybe sleep a little," she muttered; "good night, sir, 'and thank you again. Take the glasses, Shamrock." "I'd sooner have taken the bottle," Shamrock confided to me as we, left the balcony; "I do hope—however—7—" The sounds of revelry grew. ,louder as we neared the sitting-room door, and presently I was seated next Shamrock listening to Mr. O'Brien singing "Killaloos," while Mr. Kelly and Mr. White glared jealously at him, and Mr. Featherstonehaugh and Mr. Bartholomew gazed sadly "at Shamrock. Mr. Blake on her other side, looked glowering and sullen as usual. "Chorus, everybody!" cried Phyllis, as the singer came lustily- to the end of a stanza; and fitted action to word with her agreeable voice. "Mr. Blake isn't musical," remarked Shamrock, under cover of the chorus in which he did not join; "he's athletic, aren't you, Mr. Blake I know because I have to be athletic myself, in a kind of a way, to get through my classes; but I don't make a hardship, of it —it comcs

by nature. Mr. Blake has to do exercises for a-'whole hour every morning, simply to keep fit. haven't you, Mr. Blake?" "You needn't tell everybody," commented Mr. Blake somewhat bitterly. "I say Shamrock- " "I haven't told a soul but Mr. Stafford," interrupted Shamrock; "none of the others heard me; and I only told Mr. Stafford because I want you two to be friends, and I was trying to find a subject you could both talk about." "Killaloe" ended, and Mr. O'Brien took his seat, with Shamrock's "Oh, thank you so much, Mr. O'Brien, I do think that song suits you so well," to, sweeten his natural satisfaction with a performance well over. She gave Phyllis a look full of meaning—with her head, as it seemed to me, jerked slightly upwards; and Phyllis, smiling, "Please excuse me for a minute," tripped out of the room. "Now I'm hostess," said Shamrock, "and we'll have a refined general conversation till Phyllis comes back. We'll say this is the Fitzgerald salon, like tliey. have in France; and we'll all be ever so Avitty and polite, and toss the ball from one to another. I'll keep the salon, and encourage you all in turn. First you, Mr. Kelly! please say something brilliant and sparkling, right off the bat, without taking time to think." Mr. Kelly obviously took time to think, but he rose gallantly to the spur, with, "Did you see the mystery in the papers, this evening? I think the woman did it, don't you, Miss Shamrock?" "I'd love to hear you tell about it some other time," said Shamrock briskly; "but if I am to keep this salon, I must bar mysteries. I want something more poeti-, cal—now, you know a lot of poetry, Mr. Henderson." Mr. Henderson blushed distinctly, and looked appealingly at Shamrock, but did not vocally respond. "Please repeat that piece you said to me a fortnight ago, Mr. Henderson. I thought that was lovely. You know— 'The Garden of Dreams.'" Mr. Henderson said boldly that he had forgotten it, but. he thought he could remember if Miss Shamrock gave him the first line. "I walked with you in a garden of dreams," recited Shamrock promptly. "Now vou've got to go on, Billy." The "Billy" did it; and Mr. Henderson rose, stood by the piano facing the company, brushed his hair back with his left hand, held up his right hand impressively, and began: : I walked with you in a garden of dreams, 1 Thrilled with the sound of murmuring streams. Roses and lilies perfumed the air, , . And beautiful birds sang everywhere. . . The door flung open,'and Phyllis hurst into the room: "Granny's lost!" she ejaculated. "I can't find her anywhere. I've hunted high and low." "Oh, she can't be!" exclaimed Shamrock, rising instantly. "For goodness sake don't rouse the aunts! She can't have gone out of the house!" "She isn't anywhere," affirmed Phyllis positively. "I didn't go into the aunts' room; but you know she wouldn't go there. She isn't in her own room, and she isn't on the roof." Shamrock went to the old lady's chair by. the chimney, and called gently: "Granny! Granny! It's Shamrock. Where are you, granny ?" There was no answer. She darted into the studio and the observatory, and returned. "Please wait here till I come back," she requested, and ran down the stair-

way. She was gone about three minutes. We stood in silence, listening attentively, but did not hear a sound suggestive of granny. Shamrock's head appeared above the stairway: "She isn't in her room; she isn't downstairs; I went into the aunts' room and they're just as usual—if she was there I'd have seen her; I don't know where she can be. She couldn't possibly leave the hobse—she wouldn't, anyway —and one of the aunts will be up soon to put her to bed—l think it's Aunt Ivy's turn to-night; and there'll be an awful rumpus. I do hope nothing's happened to her. Oh! Oh! She couldn't have fallen off the roof. Granny! Granny!" wailed Shamrock, growing desperate. There was a little stir among the branches of the big tree that extended a friendly ' branch to the roof, and a voice said: "Be aisy, Shamrock! Th' noight is ghrrand." "She's up the tree!" exclaimed Shamrock, terrified and relieved at once. Then, indignantly, "Granny, you gave us such a fright! f Get down at once! However you got up I don't know! You must have crawled over from the roof the way I " Shamrock turned accusingly upon me. "Mr. -Stafford, this is all your fault. It must have been awfully strong. However, can we get her back. I wonder " Shamrock hurried to granny's corner, looked round, and cried, "She must 1 have got it with her. Oh, Granny, surely you haven't drunk the Whole bottle?" Apparently granny tried to take another little drink; for there were sounds of a small scuffle in the tree, and Shamrock's indignant voice came: "You shan't, granny! No, not another drop! You'll fall off the-tree." "Th' devil Oi care," said Granny, and, foiled, she burst into song again: "Oh, the' Frineh are on th' way, Says the-Shan van Voght. They'll be here widout delay,. Says th' Shan van Voglit. An' th' byes they will be there Wid their muskets in repair——" "Ow" interrupted Shamrock suddenly, "that was me." "Sorry," said Mr. Blake, who had been making progress. "I couldn't see you very well. Now, Mrs. O'Sliea, give,me that bottle to Shamrock.". "Don't dhrop it, for God's sake," commanded granny; " tis more than half full nevertheless." She paused for a reply, and granny's voice came from the tree lifted in: delicate song: "Oh! Wape for the hour, Whin "to Ivelane's bowerThe Lord 'v th valley with false vows came; Th' moon hid her loight Fr'm the hivins that night An' wipt behoind her cloud o'er.th' maiden's shame.'' "She's quite squiffy," commented Shamrock. "She never sings that one unless she's as happy as Larry. And an aunt will be up in ten minutes. I'm going to try and get her down." (To be continued daily.)