“Oh, sure,” “By-an’-by” affirmed, “the ol’ man’ll know you, never fear. You jus’ give un a cup o’ tea an’ say I’ll be back afore dark.”
“Well,” the maid agreed, dubiously.
“I’ll be off,” said Brown, in a flush of embarrassment, “when I fetches the wood t’ keep your father cosey. He’ll be thirsty an’ cold when he comes. Ye’ll take good care of un, won’t ye?”
“Ye bet ye!”
“Mind ye get them there ol’ feet warm. An’ jus’ you fair pour the tea into un. He’s used t’ his share o’ tea, ye bet! I knows un.”
And so “By-an’-by” Brown, travelling over the hills, came hopefully to Jim Turley of Candlestick Cove, an obliging man, whilst the maid kept watch at the window of the Blunder Cove cottage. And Jim Turley was a most obligin’ man. ’Blige? Why, sure! I’ll ’blige ye! There was no service difficult or obnoxious to the selfish sons of men that Jim Turley would not perform for other folk—if only he might ’blige. Ye jus’ go ast Jim Turley; he’ll ’blige ye. And Jim Turley would with delight: for Jim had a passion for ’bligin’—assiduously seeking opportunities, even to the point of intrusion. Beaming Jim Turley o’ Candlestick Cove: poor, shiftless, optimistic, serene, well-beloved Jim Turley, forever cheerfully sprawling in the meshes of his own difficulties! Lean Jim Turley—forgetful of his interests in a fairly divine satisfaction with compassing the joy and welfare of his fellows! I shall never forget him: his round, flaring smile, rippling under his bushy whiskers, a perpetual delight, come any fortune; his mild, unself-conscious, sympathetic blue eyes, looking out upon the world in amazement, perhaps, but yet in kind and eager inquiry concerning the affairs of other folk; his blithe “Yo-ho!” at labor, and “Easy does it!” Jim Turley o’ Candlestick Cove—an’ obligin’ man!
“In trouble?” he asked of “By-an’-by” Brown, instantly concerned.
“Not ’xactly trouble,” answered “By-an’-by.”
“Sort o’ bothered?”
“Well, no,” drawled “By-an’-by” Brown; “but I got t’ have a father by Satu’day night.”