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 God 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."
"God 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 threshin' 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 ship."
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 washing, 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 God to let her find the money for Tom Kelly, and when she got back into bed for the last time Almighty God 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 passage 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 passage, 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.
"I'm Honeybird Darragh," she said.
"Darragh!" he repeated. "Ah, yes."
Honeybird's eyes wandered round the room. Cupboards with glass doors lined the walls, and the cupboards were full of china. "Can I look at them things?" she asked.
"Certainly, certainly," said Mr M'Keown.
She got off her chair, and went round the room. In one cupboard there were china ladies and gentlemen in beautiful clothes. She sighed before it. "Auch, I wisht I was a lady," she said, coming back to the fire. "Wouldn't ye like to have long hair, Mister M'Keown?"
"I am afraid it would not afford me much pleasure," he said.
Honeybird looked at him again. He was very thin, and his long back was bent. "Aren't you feared to live here all by yer lone?" she said.
"Afraid? What should I be afraid of?" he asked.
"I'm feared," she said, "an' there's me an' Fly an' Patsy an' Mick an' Jane an' Lull an' mother—all them—an' I'm feared to death sometimes."
"What are you afraid off?" he asked.
"I'm feared a' ghosts an' Kidnappers, an' Skyan the Bugler, an' the buggy boo an' the banshee, an' when I'm a bad girl I'm awful feared a' the divil."
"Surely that is a rare occurrence?" said Mr M'Keown.
Honeybird did not understand. "Aren't ye feared a' them things?" she asked.
"Not in the least," he replied.
"I'll hould ye ye're feared robbers'll come an' steal all yer stockin's full of gold," she said.
"My stockings full of gold!" he repeated, looking puzzled.
"Teressa sez ye've got hapes an' hapes a' them," she said.
"I am afraid they only exist in Theresa's imagination," he said. "I have not got one stocking full of gold."
Honeybird stared. "Then ye haven't got one to give away?" she faltered.
Mr M'Keown sat up in his chair, and made a crackling noise in his throat, that grew more distinct, till at last Honeybird realised that he was laughing.
"I have not laughed for ten years," he said, smiling at her.
She tried to smile back, but her eyes were full of tears.
"Did you expect me to give you a stocking full of gold?" he said.
"'Deed, I did," she said sadly. "I was tould to come an' ast ye for it."
Mr M'Keown frowned. "Ah," he said; "so it was not simplicity?"
"No; it was a hape a' money," she said.
"Perhaps you can tell me the exact sum?"
"'Deed, I can," she said; "it was just ten pounds."
"Ten pounds! What madness!" he exclaimed. "And, pray, is it to build a new chapel or to convert the Jews that you have been sent to beg such a sum?"
"It's just to make Tom Kelly better," she said, the tears running down her cheeks. "He's goin' to die, and Mrs Kelly's buried eight a' them, and Jane sez she's heart bruk, and Doctor Dixey sez ten pounds'll cure him."
Mr M'Keown coughed. "Did Doctor Dixey send you to beg for the money?" she said.
She shook her head.
"Perhaps it was Father Ryan or Mr Rannigan?"
Again she shook her head.
"Was it your sister?"
"'Deed, it wasn't Jane, for she just hates ye; she always says ye're an ould miser, an' ye'd skin a flint."
"I am sorry that my conduct does not meet with her approval," Mr M'Keown said. "But I shall be glad if you will tell me to whom I am indebted for the honour of your visit."
Honeybird looked at him. She did not understand what he meant.
"Who sent you here?" he said.
"Almighty God tould me to come," she said.
"Almighty God?" he said. "I do not understand."
"I ast Him to let me fin' the money to cure Tom Kelly. An' I said me prayers three times for luck. An' when I was gettin' into bed the last time Almighty God just said in a wee whisper: 'Ould Mister M'Keown's the boy.'" Her disappointment was so bitter that she could not stop crying.
"Did you tell this to anyone?" Mr M'Keown asked.
"I didn't tell a sowl. I got Lull to tie on me Sunday hood, 'an' came here as quick as quick." For some time neither spoke. Mr M'Keown was walking up and down the room. Honeybird was sniffing, and wiping her eyes on her pinafore. At last Mr M'Keown came back to his chair. "Will you tell it to me all over again?" he said.
"I'll tell ye all from the start," she said. "Jane said Tom Kelly was goin' to die, and Fly said Doctor Dixey could cure him, 'cause he took the ulsters out a' her throat. An' Doctor Dixey come, an' sez he: 'I can make him better with ten pounds,' sez he, 'an' if yous can fin' the money I'll fin' the ship.":
"What is the matter with this Tom?" Mr M'Keown interrupted.
"He's got consumption. An' we thought an' thought, an' Jane ast Lull to pawn our Sunday clothes. An' Lull said they weren't worth more'n a pound. An' when we went to bed I prayed like anythin', an' Almighty God tould me to come here." She got up, and held out her hand. "I may as well be sayin' good-mornin' to ye, Mister M'Keown," she said.
Mr M'Keown took her hand, but did not let it go again. "Perhaps Almighty God did not tell you to come to me," he said.
"'Deed, He did," she said, trying to swallow a sob; "but mebby He was just makin' fun a' me."
"Certainly I have not got stockings full of gold," Mr M'Keown said.
"Well, I was thinkin' ye had," she said.
"Ten pounds!" he murmured, looking into the fire. Then he got up from his chair.
"Will you wait here by the fire till I come back?" he said, and went out of the room.
Honeybird-sat down again. Her heart was heavy. She had pictured to herself how she would go home with the stocking full of gold, and how glad the others would be when they saw the money, and knew that Tom Kelly could be cured. But now she must go back empty-handed. Mr M'Keown was gone such a long time that she grew tired of waiting, and got up to go home. But before she reached the door it opened, and he came in. He had something in his hand.
"Come here," he said, and, to her astonishment, he laid on the table a handful of glittering gold pieces.
"That is ten pounds," he said.
Honeybird looked bewildered.
"It is for you if you will accept it," he said.
She answered by throwing her arms round his legs and hugging them tight. Mr M'Keown took her hand, and went back to his chair.
"An' what made ye say ye had none, ye ould ruffan?" she said, hugging him round the neck this time, till he had to beg to be allowed to breathe.
"I think you must ask Doctor Dixey to call here for it," he said.
Honeybird's face fell. "Auch, sure I can take it home myself," she said.
"I'm afraid you might lose it," he said.
"How could I lose it?" she said. "Are ye feared I'd drop it? 'Cause I tell ye what: I couldn't drop it if ye'd put it in an ould stockin' for me to carry."
Mr M'Keown smiled. "Perhaps a sock would do," he said. He went out of the room again, and came back with a sock. "But it will not be full," he said, as he tied the money in the toe. Then he said he would walk back with her. Honeybird went with him to get his coat, and brushed his top-hat for him with her arm, as Andy Graham had taught her. They set out, hand-in-hand, Honeybird carrying the sock. Mr M'Keown walked very slowly, and Honeybird talked all the way. She told him about her mother and Lull and Andy Graham, what she played, and what the others did, till they came to the gates of Rowallan.
"Now I shall leave you," Mr M'Keown said.
She kissed him good-bye, and when, half way up the avenue, she turned to look back he was gone. The others were having dinner. Jane and Mick had come back. Honeybird ran into the schoolroom, waving the sock.
"Ye were quare and cross with me for gettin' out a' bed last night, weren't ye, Janie? But luk what it got me." She shook the gold out of the sock on to the table.
They all danced round her while she told her tale. And when they ran down and told Mrs Kelly she was so bewildered by the news that she could not believe it till they brought her up and showed her the little heap of gold on the table. Honeybird was the least excited of them all; not even when Doctor Dixey came and made her tell her adventures twice over did she lose her head.
"Sure, Almighty God always does anythin' I ast Him," she said. "Mind ye, He's quare an' obliging; if I loss anythin' He fin's it for me as quick as quick."
"Well, He worked a miracle for you this time," said Doctor Dixey.
A fortnight later Honeybird wrote, or rather Jane held her hand while she wrote, to Mr M'Keown.
"I write to tell you that Tom Kelly is away to Africa," the letter ran. "And Mrs Kelly cried and old Davy said he would be her grandson now and that would make you laugh again if you knowed Davy for he is the cross old man and never says a word but it is a bad one and Doctor Dixey knowed a man there and Jane is awful sorry she called you an old miser."