The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume L, Issue 30, 2 August 1923, Page 3

The Storyteller

(By C. J. Kickham.)

Knoeknagow OB The Homes of Tipperary ,

CHAPTER XXV— LAHY IN THE BOSOM OF HIS FAMILY. Billy Heffernan, on reaching his own door, was about bidding his companion good-night, when it occurred to him that Phil might take it into his head to pay a, visit to Jack Delaney’s forge, from the door of which, late as it was, a gleam of light shone out at intervals, indicating that the blacksmith had some work in hand which it was necessary to finish before morning. Billy Heffernan’s suspicion proved well founded; for, after reflecting for a minute or two, Phil said; “Billy, I’ll wish you a good-night. I’ll take a walk down to the forge. I want to talk to Jack Delaney about —about a little business. “Sure you can see him to-morrow, or any time,” replied Billy. Phil put his finger and thumb into his waistcoatpocket, and taking out the last shilling of what Mat the .1 hrasher had given him, he fell into a deep reverie. “Faith, I b’lieve ’tis burnin’ you,” said Billy Heffernan to himself. “’Tis gettin’ late,” he observed aloud; “an’ maybe if you stopped out any longer Norah might be frettin’.” This decided Phil, who walked off so quickly that Billy found himself standing alone in the middle of the road. He was about turning towards his own door—a little disappointed, perhaps—when Phil was' at his side again as suddenly as he had left it. “Billy,”, said ho, “you ■ may as well come in for a minute.” e , Phis invitation was not prompted by politeness oil Phil Lahy’s part. Perhaps if it were, Billy Heffernan ■would have declined it. But he knew Phil shrank from meeting his wife alone—which may appear strange, for it was quite true that she “wouldn’t say a word to him no matter what he’d do,” as he said at Mat Donovan’s. But haps this forbearance was the secret of her influence. “Norah, you ought to be in bed,” said Phil Daily in a mild, parental tone, as he laid his hat on the top of the press near his shop-board, with the air of a man who had been laboring hard since daybreak to maintain his family respectably. or Phil Dairy really seemed to be quite satisfied that he was the prop of the household. And when he did happen to do anything useful—such, for instance, as transferring a customer’s account from his wife’s board, where it was chalked in the shape of “strokes and O’s,” to the, account book, or buying a couple of “slips” at-the fair— Phil Dairy had the look of a martyr who was slaving from year’s end to year’s end to keep a roof over the heads of his wife and children. He was apt to get those “weaknesses, too, to which he was subject on these occasions, and his hints as to the necessity of a little “nourishment” were both strong and frequent. At certain seasons, too, he was wont to take sudden fits- of industry, which usually lasted half-an-hour at a time, and evinced themselves in “digging .the haggart”; and ’twas wonderful how often the handle of his spade nmuld get loose, and how every one would be in his way while he searched for the hammer, or sharpened a knife, to make a wedge, on the brown flag at the shop door. Inreference to this peculiarity Mat the Thrasher was heard to dedaie that if Phil Lahy ”on’y turned a dog up from the flic you d think the whole house was dependin’ on him.” - > - “You know, Norah,” he continued, in a tone of mild reproach, “it doesn’t answer you to be up late.” y “An’ sure you know,” replied his wife, ■ “that she wouldn’t go to bed till you’d come home; and if she did itself she couldn’t sleep.” v; . . * “I was rendin’ an American paper oyer at' Mat’s,”

said he. “Billy Heffernan and myself happened to be there, an’ we didn’t feel the time passin’. 1 told Nelly how much obliged to her you were for the fresh eggs.” This was a deep stroke of Phil’s; and he began to feel that he had been discharging an important duty during the evening which placed them all under an obligation to him. ' “I think,” he continued, as if he thought ho might lawfully allow himself a little relaxation at last, “I think I’ll look over the bishop’s speech.” He sat down by the end of the table next the fire, and snuffed the candle with his fingers. There were cups and saucers and a loaf .of bread cut into substantial slices on the table; and as soon as Billy Heffernan observed them he was moving silently towards the door. No one noticed him but Norah, who turned round in her chair and followed him with her eyes. Such an effort was. so unusual with lier, that her mother looked up in surprise to see what had happened. But observing nothing but Billy email’s retreating figure, she turned to Norah for an explanation; and her look of inquiry was met by one of mild reproach from Norah’s dark eyes. Mrs. Lahy was for a moment quite at a loss to understand what had gone wrong; but the real state of affairs suddenly flashed upon her, and starting up she seized Billy Heffernan by the shoulder before he had reached the door. “Wisha, Billy,” said she, “what did we do to you?” “Nothin’,” he replied, quite taken by surprise. “Who said ye did anything to me?” “Here, go over there to the corner and sit -down, an’ have a cup uv tay wud us.” Billy hesitated; but Mrs. Lahy pushed him by main force into the seat in the corner; and a glance, from Norah decided him. “I’ll first run up,” said Billy, “to throw a sop uv hay to the mule, and I’ll be back in a minute.” “How bad she is!” returned Honor Lahy. “She can wait till you go home.” ‘ . “Well,” said Billy Heffernan, scratching his head uneasily, “I haven’t the flute.” This remark made Norah smile; and she gave him one of those —those melancholy, grateful looks that always brought something into Billy Hcfternan’s throat. “You’re sure you’ll come back now?” said Honor Lahy, keeping her position between him and the door. “Well, I will,” he replied. And she let him pass, and returned to her stool to finish the toasting and buttering of a thin piece of bread which she had left on a plate on the hearth when she started up to prevent Billy Heffernan’s exit. Billy was soon back with his flute; but before he had time to screw the joints together, Mrs. Lahy snatched them from him, and laid them aside-with Phil’s American paper. And taking the sturdy little black tea-pot from the hearth, having first placed the table in front of the fire, she poured out the tea. Billy Heffernan reached for his cup without leaving his seat in the chimney-corner. Norah’s was laid with her toast on a chair near her, and Honor and Phil sat at the table, having the full benefit of the turf fire. Altogether it was a pleasant little party. Phil Lahy was not insensible to the comforts by which ho was surrounded, and their influence lost nothing by the reflection, that he himself was the source and creator of them all. He was more than half sober by the time the first cup of tea was discussed, and talked so wisely and learnedly and feelingly upon various subjects that his wife’s admiration actually shone in her face till it rivalled the turf fire in brightness; and poor Norah, as she looked at him with a kind of wondering fondness, said to herself: “Ah! if he never came home any worse than he is now, how happy we’d' all be!” Slipper over, Mrs. Lahy handed Phil his newspaper, and Bill Heffernan his flute; but just as Phil had adjusted his spectacles, on his nose, and as Billy was in the act of blowing the first note of the “Humors of Glyn,” the halfdoor, opened and Mr. Beresford Pender’s servant came in with one of the lamps of his master’s tax-cart in his hand. “The wind is.afther quenchin’ the lamp on ns,” said he, “as we wor passin’ the quarry, and I came in for a light.”

Honor Lahy made the sign of the cross on her forehead. She and Mrs. Donovan had more than once compared notes in reference to that same quarry, and the conclusion arrived at was that certain folk who need not be mentioned had “a. passage” through it. Honor Lahy handed the candle to the man, but as he found some difficulty in lighting the lamp, Mr. Beresford Pender himself made his appearance. “What’s delaying yon?” he asked in his' tremendous voice. - , - The delay was not much; but -minutes seemed hours to Mr. Beresford Pender when he happened to be left alone at night, particularly in the neighborhood of those properties with which his father had any connection as agent or. assistant agent. He began at once to bluster as he examined his pistols, and muttered of murderers and robbers and Papists and rebels, till poor Norah became quite frightened. But the oaths with which he interlarded his blustering were so shocking that the poor girl shuddered to listen to them. One was so horribly impious that she put her hands to her ears with a low cry, which she was unable to suppress. He turned round and glared at her, but swore no more til] the servant came in to say the lamps were lighted. After looking again at Norah, Mr. Beresford Pender said, almost in a kind voice: “Good-night, Mrs. Lahy, I’m obliged to you. I hope I didn’t disturb your daughter.” Oh, no, sir,” Honor replied in a low tone, not at all like her usual hearty good-natured way of addressing people. And Norah looked up in surprise, as if she could scarcely believe he was the same man whose language had so shocked her. haps he was not the same man. Who ■ nows? Be sure, however, that .Norah Lahys are not sent into this bnsv world for nothing. i his unlooked-for intrusion cast a gloom over the little party. Honor Lahy could not shake off the feeling that Mr. Beresford Pender’s appearance was a “sign of bad luck.” But, notwithstanding, Billy Heffernan played the “Humors of Glyn, with variations, and several other melodies, grave and gay, before he bade them good-night. “Oh, wisha!” exclaimed Honor Lahy, “he put. Tommy’s cup out uv my head. And now,” she added, after tasting it, “ ’ti s cow Id.” ' h But, though not as hot as might be wished, Tommy relished the cup of tea very much, and smacked his lips as he despatched it, with the heel of the loaf, sitting up m bed; for Tommy had been sound asleep for a couple of lours, when he opened his eyes and commenced whistling m Humors of Glyn” in excellent accord with Billy Heffernan s flute-till Billy came to the variations, which •SO aggravated Tommy ' Lahy that he pulled the blankets over his head and turned round with his face against the bolster, in order to shut out the tantalising vagaries of the musician altogether And in this position his mother found him when she brought him his share of the feast - I m afeard you’ll be tired after stayin’ up so late.” no > mother, I was never so happy.” “Well, come, alanna .” She took Norah in her arms and carried her to her bedroom. c hours ” Ut UP that Ic 'l >cr no "-> Phil- You know ’tis all “Five minutes,” returned Phil. “I have the speech finished all but a quarter of a column ” P . frSS ST! Honor esclai “ d hl a *“»•*. ** ‘Don’t mind,” replied Phil as he read on. “ ’Tis on’v a slate that s after bein’ blown off tile house.” * “ tis a. terribly stormy night,” said Honor. “Listen ” “The al hear it,” said Phil, as he folded his newspaper. , The almanac mentioned that we, were likely to have either storms or heavy ram this month, or frost and snow, unless tho « mcl happened to be from the south, or east, or worth nett, and then tolerably fine weather. was to be expected, with occasional showers.” * . ■ ’ “Wisha, -now,” said Honor, as if her fears were Quite dissipated by this explanation. “Go to bed now, Phil an’ let mo ready-up the place.” ’ T ’

'V. “I’ll kneel down here,” replied Phil, “and read my iix penance. Hand me the] prayer-book.” “Remind me to-morrow,” said he, as he closed the door behind him, “of Tom Donnelly’s breeches.” “I will,” replied Honor “an’ I hope you’ll finish id at wance. His wife was complainin’ to-day that he hadn’t a stitch uv dacency.” } “Well, he won’t have that to say much longer,” readied Phil, “so far as the breeches goes.” And Phil V sprinkled himself with the holy water, and lay down to A sleep with a mind at peace with himself and the world. •“I tell you what,” he muttered to himself, as he wrapped the blanket tightly over his shoulders, “Phil Lahy ——is—a fine fellow!” With which comfortable reflection Phil Lahy began to snore. (To be continued.)