“I’ll make a good cup of tay, and well have a supper fit for the king,” Grandmother Barry said aloud to herself, as she measured out the tea carefully and poured the boiling water over it. Then she went again to the door to give the stranger a hearty welcome.
Kathleen rang the bell to call her father down from his work-bench, Danny milked the little cow, and “in just no time at all” they were ready for supper.
“’Tis a sin and a shame that Kathleen is not wearing her green dress for St. Patrick,” said Grandmother Barry, as she saw the knot of green ribbon in the peddler’s coat. “I put it on her to wear to Mass, but ’tis her best and not to be worn common when she’s here at home. ’Twas a grand morning, and Father Burke gave the children a good talk about St. Patrick.”
“A fine morning it was, woman dear,” said the peddler, “and a grand day for the best saint that ever lived in ould Ireland.
“Tell us what Father Burke said about him,” he added, turning to Kathleen.
Poor Kathleen flushed and hung her head. “Sure, I know he stood on Croagh Patrick, over in County Mayo, and drove all the snakes out of the whole country into the sea,” she said, wishing she could remember some of the stories the good priest had told them.
“I’m not so sure about that,” said the peddler; “but it is true that there is not one to be found in the whole island. Some say there was never a snake here, and some say the good saint drove them all out with one stroke of his big stick. However it is, he is the best saint that ever lived, and a glory to Ireland, praise be to him!”
“Father Burke says he was only a lad when he was stolen away from his father and mother in Scotland, and brought to Ireland to tend swine for one of the chiefs,” said Mary Ellen shyly.
“He was sixteen years old, and as straight and handsome a lad as ever lived,” said the peddler.
“Was he a saint then?” asked Kathleen.