The folk of Furry Farm

by K. F. Purdon

“To be sure we will! see all there is to see!” said the Comrade Children; “only let you hurry, and not be keeping us waiting here all night on you....”

Then out of the door goes little Brigid, talking all the time to herself, and answering herself back as if there was a whole regiment of children in the place, instead of only herself.

She ran straight to that choice spot of hers, where the small little remains of the old castle of the Heffernans was. And there she stood a minute, listening, you’d think. All that remained there now of the old building that had once been so grand and fine was a couple or three bits of walls, half-roofed, very thick and strong. In one of them there was a pointy long-shaped hole, like where the window of a chapel might have been. Many a time Brigid had stood, and had looked at the hole, and had longed to climb up and out through it, to see what was on the other side, only Marg had always checked her. So of course the child couldn’t but know that her mammy wouldn’t wish her to go through there.

But now it seemed as if she forgot all that! She scrambled up and out through the window; she half fell, half jumped on to the long grass outside. Of course she had no call to do the like; but don’t we all act contrary at times? and it’s often you’ll hear it said, “Where’s the sense in being young, if you’re not foolish?” Little Bride just picked herself up; stood still a minute, looking back at the hole. Then she held out the two little hands, the soft, rosy little hands that Marg loved to kiss, as if to catch hold of other hands; and off she started, running as fast as the little feet would carry her, towards the Hill of the Rath, that was dim and fading already into the night.

Inside in the kitchen, Mickey slept ahead for a while; long enough in fact for it to be middling dark when he began to stir himself and waken up. Then he looked about him, and missed Marg, and remembered all that was after happening, and that she was gone off, and the child left in his charge. She had been sitting on her creepy in the corner. He looked over to see if she was there still. The stool was, but the little girl was gone.

At first, Heffernan didn’t mind so much, thinking it was only outside Bride should be. So he gave a great shout of a call to her, and even when there was no answer, he only thought, “She mustn’t be far; I did no more than close me eyes for a minute of time!” half ashamed, the way the most of us are about taking a doze by the fire; as if, you’d think, it was one of the seven deadly sins to fall asleep anywhere only in your bed.

But when no Bride appeared, after a bit Mickey grew uncomfortable in himself. He got up and limped over to the door, to see could he see the child in the yard. It wasn’t till he found that the night was settling down dark and quiet, that the real lonesomeness came over him! He called again, but of course there was nothing, only echo from the old walls for him to hear. Little Brigid was too far away for any shout from him to reach her.

“What will I do, at all at all?” thinks Heffernan to himself; “I wish to God Marg was back here! What a thing for her to go do, to be getting the teethaches this day of all days, and leave me here to be annoyed with the child going astray on me! And sure, if anything was to happen little Missie, Marg would never over it!”

He felt now that he’d give a good deal to see little Bride come trotting up to the door; and he strained his eyes out into the darkness as if by that he thought he might get her back.

Many’s the time he had thought it long, when he’d have to wait his turn till Marg would be done with the child; and he might sit there, lonely and forgotten and as if he was no consequence, till the child would be dressed and fed and all to that. But he had never said a word of a complaint, and now it was all past. He could only see the look on Marg’s face, when she’d have Brigid on her knee, warm and smiling after her bath; or latterly, the way she’d be folding the little hands for her, and getting her to say her prayers, before she’d be put into her bed. Heffernan was half-wild, thinking how fretted Marg would be, if she came home and found the child gone.