“And says he to her, ‘Faith, no news at all,’ says he, ‘save as I was coming home by the long wall beyont, there was two great fellers of cats sitting on the top of it. And says one to the other, “The widdie Moloney’s tabb’s goney at last,” says he, “and it’s the grand burying on her there’ll be to-night.”’
“And no sooner were the words out of his mouth when his own tom-cat ups with him and shakes himself where he was sittin’ starin’ at the turf, and says he ‘Then it’s time for me to be off,’ says he, ‘or I’ll be late for the funeral.’ And out of the door with him, with his tail all of a bristle....”
I was rather awed by that story, which, to my infant mind, bore the stamp of unmistakable veracity; but nothing that proceeded from the linen room ever really distressed me. Its ruling spirit was too benign and too perfectly in harmony with us.
AN OLD IRISH NURSE
The terror of those days to me was the fragile-looking, soft-voiced, mincing widow who became our nurse after the death of the fine old martinet by whom we had been ruled before. It was not surprising that our mother should have imagined she was passing us over to a much gentler authority; but as a matter of fact—indolent, ignorant, peevish—the new nursery autocrat was given to enforcing her orders by threats of a ghastly and impossible description.
“I’ll cut your tongue out,” was a favourite menace, which, if defied, would be supplemented by—“Wait, now, till I run and get my scissors.”
Stronger of body, more enlightened in mind, my co-nurseryites treated these remarks with the scorn they deserved. But I cannot describe the agony with which they pressed upon me. It is peculiar to all children that these terrors are never communicated to others. Not even to my brothers and sisters would I breathe one word of my apprehensions. But the misery took shape in horrible dreams and sleepless nights. And when matters became too intolerable, I would creep out of my little bed, and patter across the bare boards into the adjoining room where the housekeeper slept. On no single occasion did she show the smallest severity or even annoyance at being disturbed.
“Mobie,” I would pipe, “I’m afraid!... May I get into your bed?”