Furloughs were now granting to a certain number of men to go home to see their friends. Dennis, on the faith of some former promise, got one, but I was not so fortunate. He was quite delighted at the idea of going to see his mother and relations, and the evening previous to his intended departure he was very busy packing up his things.
‘Now,’ said he, when he had finished, ‘I will start very early to-morrow morning, and I think I will be able to manage the journey in four days.’
‘Here’s some one asking for Dennis,’ said a comrade.
An old woman, habited in a gray cloak, with a handkerchief on her head tied under her chin, entered the room, and looked round inquiringly at each face, until she found the one which was too deeply imprinted on her memory ever to forget. Then, springing forward, she caught Dennis in her arms, and almost smothered him with kisses.
‘Och, my poor child!’ said she, ‘do I live to see you once more? Jewel and darling! but this is a blessed day for your poor mother.’
Dennis was perfectly bewildered—so much taken by surprise that he could not utter a word for some minutes; at length he said—
‘In the name of God, mother, what brought you here?’
‘Indeed, I just came to see yourself astore; and wasn’t that reason good enough? and I would have come for that same, if it had been twice as far, although I walked every foot of the road.’
‘Well, well,’ said Dennis, ‘that beats Banacher and Balinasloe! Haven’t I my knapsack packed to set off home to-morrow? and here you have made all this journey for nothing, dragging the old limbs of ye.’
‘What matter, child? can’t we go home together? we’ll be company on the road.’