Oh! happy were those days—so happy that Helen would sometimes tremble; for surely they could not last for ever—otherwise it would be heaven on earth.
But, sober and inoffensive as Roony was, he was not without enemies; indeed, for very reason of his sobriety and inoffensiveness some hated him. And one evening—Christmas eve—he and his young wife were seated by the stove, talking about the Black-eye Club, whose head-quarters were in a liquor-store close by, and whose members had sworn vengeance on Mike for refusing to join them. “They have threatened to beat me,” he said; “but if they only give me fair play, I’ll be a match for the biggest of ’em.”
“Ay, fair play!” said Helen, shuddering. “Savages like them always take a man unawares, and, like wolves, they hunt in packs.”
“They carry pistols, too,” added Mike, “while I carry nothing but my fists.”
“Well, bad as I feel about it, husband dear, I’d a thousand times rather have you brave the whole villanous gang than see you join them; for now we are so happy.” Here Helen twined her arm round his neck, then, gazing on him with loving eye, she continued: “You have never touched liquor, you do not get into fights, you are so good; and this rock is dearer
to me than the greenest farm in the land.”
“With you any spot would be a paradise,” rejoined Mike; “and I hope to-morrow will be the last Christmas that we’ll go without a turkey and some toys for the children.”
“Oh! I’m sure it will,” said Helen. “But you are right to pay all our debts first; and already the boards which the shanty cost are paid for, and so is the stove, and there is nothing owing except the coal”; then, with a smile: “And I’ve promised a pailful of coal to Mrs. McGowan, who lives on the next rock. You see, poor as we are, we can afford to give something away. Oh! isn’t that sweet?”
“It is indeed,” answered Roony; then, after a pause: “But now tell me, wife, who do you think is going to preach to-morrow?”
“Father H——.”