“Gracey had always finer notions than me. I’d niver thought a bit of a bureau, for I know’d mother had a chist which would hold Jinny’s clothes and hers—all they had, poor things. Father Shane came to see me that night, too, and brought a big, black, wood cross to hang over the mantlepiece, and a string of beads for Jinny. Och, but we felt very happy, only every little bit, poor Elsie would come to my mind, and I’d think of how merry she’d been if she’d been livin’; and grate tears would roll down in spite of me. Father Shane spoke very pretty about her, and made me feel better, and after he and Gracey went away, I sat down by the stove, and there I sat all night, for I didn’t want to rumple the bed I’d made up for mother, for the sheets looked so white and smooth.
“The next afternoon the vessel came up the river, but it was ten o’clock at night before mother got off. There I stood on the wharf, talkin’ to her, that was on the ould vessel, all the evenin’. When she first see’d me, she cried,
“‘Och, and it’s my Bridget, God bless her!’
“She was so glad, she’d have tumbled overboard, but for one of the sailors who caught her. We both cried and laughed, and some laughed at us; but the good sailor who had caught ahold of her when she was fallin’, told her to cheer up, that she’d soon be on shore with her Bridget. He helped her down the side of the vessel, and when she hugged me and we both cried, I saw him wipe his eyes. He shook hands with us both, and asked where we lived, and said he’d come to see us.
“But, och, didn’t mother stare when she see’d her nice room. Then she throw’d her apron over her head and cried like a baby. Jinny had grow’d so tall I didn’t know her. I was glad she was tall, for I’d hated to see her, for fear she’d make me cry about Elsie, bein’ little like her; but she was near as tall as Gracey, and right pretty.
“Mother examined all the room, and kissed me, and hugged me, and then, when Gracey came, she looked very proud—for Gracey was so fine lookin’. Gracey staid all night, and we made her and Jinny a bed on the floor with the cushions of the form, for mother said she’d sleep with her Bridget. We talked nearly all night, and we all cried about Elsie, and I told ’em a great many pretty stories about her.
“‘Yes, mother,’ said Gracey, ‘Elsie, the darlin’, was always a blessin’ to Bridget, but I was a trouble.’
“I made her hush, and told her she wasn’t as bad as she pretended to be, and then after a bit we all went to sleep. But after I’d been asleep awhile I wakened, and there was mother lanin’ over me cryin’ and kissin’ me; I didn’t ope my eyes, but laid so still; for oh, Miss Enna, it was so nice to have my own mother beside me, and then I was afraid I was dramin’.”
“Well, Bridget,” I said, as the girl wiped her eyes, “how did you support your little family?”
“Very azy, ma’am,” she replied, “for we all took care of ourselves. Mrs. Hill came in and asked Jinny to go and live with her. Then I got a nice place at poor Mrs. Kenyon’s mother’s. You know’d Mrs. Kenyon, Miss Enna, ’twas she who died?”