The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys

BY GULIELMA ZOLLINGER

(1904, 10th edition)

[Illustration: "CAN'T I DIPIND ON YE B'YS?"]

ILLUSTRATIONS

 Can't I depind on ye, b'ys?

 It's your father's ways you have

 For every one carried something

 "Cheer up, Andy!" he said

 Mrs. Brady looked at the tall, slender boy

 Pat donned his apron

 "I've good news for you, Fannie, " said the General

 The General makes the gravy

 Pat doing the marketing

 Pat and Mike building the kitchen

 Up on the roof sat Mike with his knife

 Barney and Tommie a-takin' care of the geese

 The merchant turned to the girl clerk

 Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished

 Little Jim became downright sulky

 In they came at that moment

 Jim made a clatter with the dishes

 Open the oven door, Jim

 Look at that Jim work

 Three cheers for Jim O'Callaghan

 Pat and Mike were one on each side of him

CHAPTER I

When Mr. O'Callaghan died, after a long, severe, and expensive sickness, he left to his widow a state of unlimited poverty and seven boys. 

"Sure, an' sivin's the parfect number, " she said through her tears asshe looked round on her flock; "and Tim was the bist man as iver lived, may the saints presarve him an' rist him from his dreadful pains!"

Thus did she loyally ignore the poverty. It was the last of February. Soon they must leave the tiny house of three rooms and the farm, foranother renter stood ready to take possession. There would be nothing totake with them but their clothing and their scant household furniture, for the farm rent and the sickness had swallowed up the crop, thefarming implements, and all the stock. 

Pat, who was fifteen and the oldest, looked gloomily out at one of thekitchen windows, and Mike, the next brother, a boy of thirteen, lookedas gloomily as he could out of the other. Mike always followed Pat'slead. 

When eleven-year-old Andy was a baby Pat had taken him for a pet. Accordingly, when, two years later, Jim was born, Mike took him incharge. To-day Pat's arm was thrown protectingly over Andy's shoulders, while Jim stood in the embrace of Mike's arm at the other window. Barneyand Tommie, aged seven and five respectively, whispered together in acorner, and three-year-old Larry sat on the floor at his mother's feetlooking wonderingly up into her face. 

Five days the father had slept in his grave, and still there was thesame solemn hush of sorrow in the house that fell upon it when he died. 

"And what do you intend to do?" sympathetically asked Mrs. Smith, awell-to-do farmer's wife and a neighbor. 

The widow straightened her trim little figure, wiped her eyes, andreplied in a firm voice: "It's goin' to town I am, where there's work tobe got, as well as good schoolin' for the b'ys. "

"But don't you think that seven boys are almost more than one littlewoman can support? Hadn't you better put some of them out--for atime?"--the kind neighbor was quick to add, as she saw the gatheringfrown on the widow's face. 

"Sure, " she replied, 'twas the Lord give me the b'ys, an' 'twas the Lordtook away their blissid father. Do ye think He'd 'a' done ayther wan orthe other if He hadn't thought I could care for 'em all? An' I will, too. It may be we'll be hungry--yis, an' cold, too--wanst in a while. But it won't be for long. "

"But town is a bad place for boys, I'm told, " urged the neighbor. 

"Not for mine, " answered the widow quietly. "They're their father'sb'ys, an' I can depind on 'em. They moind me loightest word. Come here, Pat, an' Moike, an' Andy, an' Jim, an' Barney, an' Tommie!"

Obediently the six drew near. She raised Larry to her lap, and looked uptouchingly into their faces. "Can't I depind on ye, b'ys?"

"Yes, mother, course you can, " answered Pat for them all. 

A moment the widow paused to steady her voice, and then resumed, "It'sall settled. A-Saturday I goes to town to get a place. A-Monday wemoves. "

The neighbor saw that it was indeed settled, and, like a discreet woman, did not push her counsel further, but presently took her leave, hopingthat the future might be brighter than it promised for Mrs. O'Callaghanand her boys. 

 * * * * *

"Aise 'em up an' down the hills, Pat, the dear bastes that your fatherloved!"

Mrs. O'Callaghan and Pat were driving to Wennott behind the team thatwas theirs no longer, and it was Saturday. No need to speak to Pat. Thewhip rested in the socket, and he wished, for his part, that the horseswould crawl. He knew how poor they were, and he did not want to go totown. But mother said town, and town it must be. 

Down across the railroad track, a little northeast of the depot, was atriangular bit of ground containing about as much as two lots, and on ithad been erected a poor little shanty of two rooms. The widow knew ofthis place, and she meant to try to secure it. 

"'Twill jist do for the loikes of us, Pat, for it's a low rint we'reafter, an' a place quiet loike an' free from obsarvers. If it's poor yeare, well an' good, but, says I, 'There's no use of makin' a show ofit. ' For it's not a pretty show that poverty makes, so it ain't, an', says I, 'A pretty show or none. ' I see you're of my moind, " shecontinued with a shrewd glance at him, "an' it heartens me whin ye agreewith me, for your father's gone, an' him and me used to agreewonderful. "

Pat's lips twitched. He had been very fond of his father. And all atonce it seemed to him that town and the shanty were the two mostdesirable things in their future. 

"But, cheer up, Pat! 'Twas your father as was a loively man, d'ye moind?Yon's the town. It's hopin' I am that our business'll soon be done. "

Pat's face brightened a little, for he found the entry into even sosmall a town as Wennott a diversion. To-day he looked about him with newinterest, for here were streets and stores that were to become familiarto him. They entered the town from the south and drove directly to itscenter, where stood the courthouse in a small square surrounded by aniron hitching-rack. Stores faced it on every side, and above the storeswere the lawyers' offices. Which one belonged to the man who had chargeof the place the widow wished to rent, she wondered, and Pat wondered, as she stood by, while he tied the horses. 

[Illustration: "It's your father's ways you have. "]

Above the stores, too, were doctors' offices, and dentists' offices, dress-making-shops, and suites of rooms where young couples and, in someinstances, small families lived. 

"We'll jist be inquirin', Pat. 'Tis the only way. But what to ask for, Idon't know. Shall I be sayin' the bit of a place beyant the tracks?"

"Yes, mother. That's what you want, ain't it?"

"Sure it is, an' nothin' else, nayther. It's your father's ways youhave, Pat. 'Twas himsilf as wint iver straight after what he wanted. "

Pat's eyes beamed and he held himself more proudly. What higher praisecould there be for him than to be thought like his father?

It chanced that the first lawyer they asked was the right one. 

"Luck's for us, " whispered the little widow. "Though maybe 'twouldn'thave been against us, nayther, if we'd had to hunt a bit. "

And then all three set out to look at the poor little property. 

"Sure, an' it suits me purpose intoirely, " declared Mrs. O'Callaghanwhen the bargain had been concluded. "An' it's home we'll be goin' atwanst. We've naught to be buyin' the day, seein' we're movin' in onMonday. "

Pat made no answer. 

"Did you see thim geese a-squawkin' down by the tracks?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan, as she and her son settled themselves on the high springseat of the farm wagon. 

Pat nodded. 

"There's an idea, " said his mother. "There's more than wan in the worldas can raise geese. An' geese is nice atin', too. I didn't see norunnin' water near, but there's a plinty of ditches and low places wherethere'll be water a-standin' a good bit of the toime. An' thim thatcan't git runnin' water must take standin'. Yis, Pat, be they geese ormin, in this world they must take what they can git an' fat up on it asmuch as they can, too. "

The thin little woman--thin from overwork and anxiety and grief--spokethus to her tall son, who, from rapid growing, was thin, too, and shespoke with a soberness that told how she was trying to strengthen herown courage to meet the days before her. Absorbed in themselves, motherand son paid no heed to their surroundings, the horses fell into theiraccustomed brisk trot, and they were soon out on the narrow road thatlay between the fields. 

"Now, Pat, me b'y, " said Mrs. O'Callaghan, rousing herself, "you're theoldest an' I'll tell you my plans. I'm a-goin' to git washin' to do. "

The boy looked at his mother in astonishment. 

"I know I'm little, " she nodded back at him, "but it's the grit in methat makes me strong. I can do it. For Tim's b'ys an' mine I can do it. Four days in the week I'll wash for other people, Friday I'll wash formy own, Saturday I'll mind for 'em, an' Sunday I'll rist. "

A few moments there was silence. Thewidow seemed to have no more to say. 

"An' what am I to do?" finally burst out Pat. "An' what's Mike to do?Sure we can help some way. "

"That you can, Pat. I was comin' to that. Did you notice the biggestroom in the little house we rinted the day?"

Pat nodded. 

"I thought you did. You're an obsarvin' b'y, Pat, jist loike yourfather. Well, I belave that room will jist about hold three beds an'lave a nate little path betwane ivery two of 'em. It's my notion we canbe nate an' clane if we are poor, an' it'll be your part to make iverywan of thim beds ivery day an' kape the floor clane. Larry an' mesilf, we'll slape in the kitchen, an' it's hopin' I am you'll kape thatshoinin', too. An' then there's the coal to be got in an' the ashes tobe took out. It does seem that iverything you bring in is the cause ofsomethin' to be took out, but it can't be helped, so it can't, so 'Outwith it, ' says I. An' there's the dishes to be washed an'--I hate to askyou, Pat, but do you think you could larn cookin' a bit?"

She looked at him anxiously. The boy met her look bravely. 

"If you can work to earn it, 'tis meself as can cook it, I guess, " hesaid. 

"Jist loike your father, you are, Pat. He wasn't niver afraid of tryin'nothin', an' siven b'ys takes cookin'. An' to hear you say you'll do it, whin I've larnt you, of course, aises me moind wonderful. There's someas wouldn't do it, Pat. I'm jist tellin' you this to let you know you'rebetter than most. " And she smiled upon him lovingly. 

"If the most of 'em's that mean that they wouldn't do what they couldan' their mother a--washin', 'tis well I'm better than them, anyway, "returned Pat. 

"Ah, but Pat, they'd think it benathe 'em. 'Tis some grand thing they'dbe doin' that couldn't be done at all. That's the way with some, Pat. It's grand or nothin', an' sure an' it's ginerally nothin', I'venoticed. "

A mile they went in silence. And then Mrs. O'Callaghan said: "As for therist, you'll all go to school but Larry, an' him I'll take with me whenI go a--washin'. I know I can foind thim in the town that'll help a poorwidow that much, an' that's all the help I want, too. Bad luck tobeggars. I'm none of 'em. "

Pat did not respond except by a kindly glance to show that he heard, andhis mother said no more till they drove in at the farm gate. 

"An' it's quite the man Pat is, " she cried cheerily to the six who cameout to meet them. "You'll do well, all of you, to pattern by Pat. An'it's movin' we'll be on Monday, jist as I told you. It's but a smallplace we've got, as Pat will tell you there. Close to the north side ofthe town it is, down by the railroad tracks, where you can see all thetrains pass by day an' hear 'em by night; an' there's freight carsstandin' about at all toimes that you can look at, an' they've got ironladders on the inds of 'em, but you must niver be goin' a-climbin' ontop of thim cars. "

At this announcement Andy and Jim looked interested, and the eyes ofBarney and Tommie fairly shone with excitement. The widow hadaccomplished her object. Her boys were favorably inclined toward the newhome, and she slipped into her bedroom to shed in secret the tears shecould no longer restrain. 

CHAPTER II

Sunday dawned cold and blustering--a sullen day that seemed hardly toknow which way was best to make itself disagreeable, and so tried themall. The stock had been removed. There was no work outside for the twooldest boys, no watching indoors by the hungry little brothers for Patand Mike to be through milking, and feeding, and pumping water into thetrough, so that they might all have breakfast together. Yes, there hadbeen a little work. The two horses which, with the wagon, had beenkindly lent them for their next day's moving were in the barn. Mike hadfed and watered them, Pat had combed them, and both had petted them. 

Many a time that day would Mrs. O'Callaghan slip out to stroke theirnoses and pat their glossy necks and say in a choked voice, "Tim'shorses! Tim's horses! and we can't kape 'em!" And many a time that daywould she smooth the signs of grief from her face to go into the houseagain with what cheer she could to her seven sons, who were gatheredlistlessly about the kitchen stove. Many a time that day would she tellherself stoutly, "I'll not give in! I'll not give in! I've to be bravefor eight, so I have. Brave for my b'ys, and brave for mesilf. And shallI fret more than is good for Tim's horses whin I know it's to a kindmaster they're goin', and he himsilf a helpin' us to-morrow with themovin'? The Lord's will be done! There's thim that thinks the Lord hasno will for horses and such. And 'tis mesilf is thankful that I can'tagree with 'em. "

Occasionally, as the morning passed, one of the boys stepped to thewindow for a moment, for even to glance out at flying flakes and awintry landscape was a relief from the depression that had settled downupon them all. 

That was a neighborhood of churches. Seven or eight miles from any town, it was remarkable to see three churches within half a mile of eachother. Small, plain buildings they were, but they represented the firmconvictions of the United Brethren, the United Presbyterians, and theMethodists for many miles around. Now all these people, vary as theymight in church creeds, were united in a hearty admiration for pluckylittle Mrs. O'Callaghan. They all knew, though the widow would not ownit, that destitution was at her door. The women feared that in takingher boys to town she was taking them to their ruin, while the menthought her course the only one, since a destitute woman can hardly runa farm with only seven growing boys to help her. And for a day or twothere had been busy riding to and fro among the neighbors. 

The snow fell fitfully, and the wind howled in gusts, but every farmerhitched up and took his wife and children with him, and no family wentempty-handed. For every road to every church lay straight by the widow'sdoor. Short cuts there were to be used on general occasions, but thatmorning there was but the one road. And so it fell out that by teno'clock there was a goodly procession of farm wagons, with here andthere a buggy, and presently the widow's fence was lined with teams, andthe men, women, and children were alighting and thronging up the narrowpath to Mrs. O'Callaghan's door. There was no merriment, but there was akindly look on every face that was beautiful to see. And there werethose between whom bitterness had been growing that smiled upon eachother to-day, as they jostled burdens on the path; for every one carriedsomething, even the children, who stumbled by reason of their veryimportance. 

The widow looked out and saw the full hands, and her heart sank. Was sheto be provided for by charity? She looked with her keen eyes into thecrowd of faces, and her heart went up into her throat. It was notcharity, but neighborliness and good will she read there. 

"I'd be wan of 'em, if somebody else was me, may the Lord bless 'em, "she said as she opened wide the door. 

In they trooped, and, for a moment, everybody seemed to be talking atonce. 

[Illustration: "For every one carried something. "]

It sometimes needs a great deal of talk to make a kind deed seem likenothing at all. Sometimes even a great deal of talk fails to do so. Itfailed to-day. 

Tears were running unheeded down the widow's face. Not even her boysknew how everything was gone, and she left with no money to buy more. And everybody tried not to see the tears and everybody talked fasterthan ever. Then the first church bell rang out, and old and young turnedto go. There came a little lull as one after another gave the widow'shand a cordial clasp. 

"My friends, " said Mrs. O'Callaghan--she could be heard now--"my dearfriends, I thank you all. You have made my heart strong the day. "

"I call that a pretty good way to put in time on Sunday, " said one manto another as they were untying their teams. 

"Makes going to church seem worth while, for a fact, " returned hisneighbor. 

Not till the last vehicle had passed from sight did the widow look roundupon what her neighbors had left her, and then she saw sufficient pantrystores to last even seven growing boys for a month. And among the restof her gifts she found coal for a week. She had not noticed her sons asshe busily took account of her stock, but when she had finished shesaid, "B'ys, b'ys! 'tis your father sees the hearts of these good peoplethis day and rej'ices. Ah, but Tim was a ginerous man himsilf! It'shopin' I am you'll all be loike him. "

That night when the younger boys were in bed and only Pat and Mike satkeeping her company, the widow rose from her seat, went to a box alreadypacked and took therefrom an account book and pencil. 

"They're your father's, " she said, "but it's a good use I'll be puttin''em to. "

Writing was, for the hand otherwise capable, a laborious task; but nohelp would she have from either of her sons. 

"May I ask you not to be spakin'?" she said politely to the two. "It'snot used to writin' I am, and I must be thinkin' besides. "

Two hours she sat there, her boys glancing curiously at her now and thenat first, and later falling into a doze in their chairs. She wrote twowords and stopped. Over and over she wrote two words and stopped. Overand over until she had written two words and stopped fifty times. Andoften she wiped away her tears. At last her task was done, and there inthe book, the letters misshapen and some of the words misspelled, werethe names of all who had come to her that morning. Just fifty there wereof them. She read them over carefully to see that she had not forgottenany. 

"Maybe I'll be havin' the chance to do 'em a good turn some day, " shesaid. "I will, if I can. But whether I do or not, I've got it here inwritin', that when all was gone, and I didn't have nothin', the Lordsint fifty friends to help me out. Let me be gettin' down in the heartand discouraged again, and I'll take this book and read the Lord'sdoin's for me. Come Pat and Moike! It's to bed you must be goin', forwe're to move to-morrow, do you moind?"

CHAPTER III

According to Mrs. O'Callaghan's plans, the moving was accomplished thenext day. There was but one load of household goods, so that the twoteams of their kind neighbor made only one trip, but that load, with theseven boys and their mother, filled the shanty by the tracks tooverflowing. The little boys immediately upon their arrival had been alleyes for the trains, and, failing them, the freight cars. And they hadreluctantly promised never to ascend the iron freight car ladders whenthey had been in their new home only one hour. 

"Whin you're dailin' with b'ys take 'em in toime, " was the widow'smotto. "What's the use of lettin' 'em climb up and fall down, and maybebreak their legs or arms, and then take their promise? Sure, and I'lltake it before the harm's done, so I will. "

Such tooting the delighted little fellows had never heard. "Barney!"whispered Tommie, in the middle of the night, with a nudge. "Barney!there's another of 'em!"

"And listen to the bell on it, " returned Barney. "Ain't you glad wemoved?"

And then they fell asleep to wake and repeat the conversation a littlelater. Larry was the only one who slept the night through. The rest werewaked so many times by the unaccustomed noise that one night seemed liketwenty. 

"We'll be used to it in toime, " said the heavy-eyed little widow toyawning Pat and Mike the next morning. "And the more things you get usedto in this world the better for you. I belave it's quite something loiketo be able to sleep with engines tootin' and blowin' off steam, andbells a-ringin', and cars a-bumpin'. Even a baby can slape where 'tisquiet, you know. "

Breakfast had been over an hour. 

"Now, Pat, " said his mother, "that's not the way to make beds. Off withthem covers and make 'em over again. "

Mrs. O'Callaghan was standing in the doorway and looking in at theroomful of beds. "I don't mane it for unkindness, Pat, but sure and theway you've got 'em made up they look jist loike pigs' nests with coversover 'em. There, that's better, " she commented when Pat had obedientlymade all the beds over again under her instructions. "You can't larn allthere is to bed-makin' in a day. 'Tis practice makes parfect, as yourcopy book used to say. But I'm thinkin' you'll have it in a week, foryou're your father's son, and he was a quick wan to larn, was Tim. Andnow I'll be teachin' you a bit of cookin' while I have the chance. Youmust larn that as quick as you can, Pat, for a poor cook wastes a sight, besides settin' dishes of stuff on the table that none but pigs can eat. And in most places the pigs would get their messes, but here we've gotno pigs, and whativer you cook we've got to be eatin'. Andy was askin'for beans for to-morrow a bit ago. What's your ideas about bakin' beans, Pat? How would you do it?"

Pat thought a moment. "I'd wash 'em good, and put 'em in a pan, and bake'em, " he said. 

"Sure, then, you've left out one thing. With that receipt, Pat, you'dneed a hammer to crack 'em with after they was baked. No, no, Pat, youpick 'em over good and put 'em a-soak over night. In the mornin' youpick 'em over again, and wash 'em good and bile 'em awhile, and pour offthe water, and bile 'em again in fresh water with jist enough salt init, and then you put 'em in the oven and bake 'em along with a piece ofpork that's been a-bilin' in another kittle all the toime. "

Pat looked a trifle astonished, but all he said was, "_Baked beans_is a queer name for 'em, ain't it?"

Mrs. O'Callaghan smiled. "That's the short of it, Pat, jist the short ofit. The names of things don't tell half there is to 'em sometoimes. Andnow for the dinner. It's belavin' I am you can cook it with me standin'by to help you out when you get into trouble. "

Pat tied on a clean apron, washed his hands and set to work. 

"That's it! That's it!" encouraged Mrs. O'Callaghan, from time to time, as the cooking progressed. "And I'll jist be tellin' you, Pat, you'renot so green as some girls I've seen. I'd rather have a handy b'y as anunhandy girl any day. "

A little later she stood in the shanty door. "Come, Moike!" she called. "Bring the little b'ys in to dinner. Pat's a-dishin' it a'ready. "

Mike had been detailed by his prudent mother as a guard to prevent hissmall brothers from making too intimate acquaintance with freight carsand engines. He was by this time pretty hungry, and he marshaled in hissquad with scant ceremony. 

A week went by and the widow was settled. Each boy was placed in hisproper class at the public school, and the mother had her coveted fourwashing places. 

"I didn't come to town to be foolin' my toime away, so I didn't, " saidMrs. O'Callaghan, as she sat down to rest with a satisfied face. "Pat, "she continued, "you've done foine with the work this week. All I've tosay is, 'Kape on. ' It'll kape you busy at it with school on your hands, but, sure, them as is busy ain't in mischief, nayther. "

The next week all went well with the widow and Larry as usual, but theboys at school found rough sailing. 

"Ah, but Mrs. Thompson's the jewel!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan on Mondayevening. "She do be sayin' that Larry's a cute little fellow, and shehas him in to play where she is, and he gets to hear the canary birdsing, so he does. Didn't I be tellin' you, Pat, that I knew there wasthem in this town would help me that way? But what makes you all look soglum? Didn't you foind the school foine the day? Niver moind! You ain'tacquainted yet. And jist remember that iverybody has a deal to bear inthis world, and the poor most of all. If anybody does you a rale wrong, come tell me of it. But if it's only nignaggin', say naught about it. 'Twon't last foriver, anyway, and them that's mane enough to nignag apoor b'y is too mane to desarve attintion, so they are. "

The widow looked searchingly at her older sons. She saw them, under thetonic of her sound counsel, straighten themselves with renewed courage, and she smiled upon them. 

"I'll niver be makin' Tim's b'ys weak-spirited by lettin' 'emtittle-tattle of what can't be helped, " she thought. 

"Now, b'ys, heads up and do your bist!" she said the next morning as shewent to her work. 

But it was one thing to hold up their heads at the shanty, and quiteanother to hold them up on the noisy, swarming campus where they knewnobody, and where the ill-bred bullies of the school felt free to jeerand gibe at their poor clothing and their shy, awkward ways. 

"Patrick O'Callaghan!" yelled Jim Barrows derisively. 

It was recess and the campus was overflowing with boys and girls, butPat was alone. "Just over from the 'ould coonthry', " he continued. "Youcan tell by his clothes. He got wet a-comin', and just see how they'veshrunk!"

The overgrown, hulking fellow lounged closer to the tall and slenderIrish boy, followed by the rough set that acknowledged him as a leader. Some measured the distance from the ends of Pat's jacket sleeves to hiswrists, while others predicted the number of days that must elapsebefore his arms burst through the sleeves. 

The spirit of the country-bred boy quailed before this coarse abuse, which he knew not how to resent. He glanced about him, but no way ofescape offered. He was hemmed in. And then the bell struck. Recess wasover. He thought of his brothers in different grades from himself, though in the same building. "Is there them that makes it hot for 'emwhen they can?" he said anxiously to himself. "We'll have to be stayin'more together mornin's and noons and recesses, so we will. "

But staying together did not avail. Jim Barrows and his set found moredelight in tormenting several unresisting victims than they couldpossibly have enjoyed with only one. 

"Ah, but this nignaggin's hard to stand!" thought Pat a week later. Hewas on his way to school. Pat was always last to get off on account ofhis work. That morning Jim Barrows was feeling particularly valiant. Hethought of the "O'Callaghan tribe, " as he called them, and his spiritsrose. He was seventeen and large for his age. "Them low Irish needssomebody to keep 'em to their places, " he said to himself, "and I'm theone to do it. "

Just then he spied Andy a few steps ahead of him, Andy, who was onlyeleven, and small and frail. Two strides of his long legs overtook thelittle boy. A big, ugly hand laid itself firmly on the shrinking littleshoulder. Words of abuse assailed the sensitive ears, and were followedby a rude blow. Then Jim Barrows, regarding his duty done for that time, lounged on, leaving the little fellow crying pitifully. 

A few moments later, Pat came along, and, finding his favorite brothercrying, insisted upon knowing the reason. And Andy told him. With allthe abuse they had borne, not one of the brothers had been struckbefore. As Pat listened his anger grew to fury. His blue eyes flashedlike steel. 

"Cheer up, Andy!" he said, "and run on to school. You needn't be afraid. I can't go with you; I've business on hand. But you needn't be afraid. "

He had just ten minutes till school would call. Who was that, two blocksoff, loitering on a corner? Was it?--it was Jim Barrows. 

[Illustration: "'Cheer up, Andy!' he said. "]

With a dogged step that did not seem hurried, Pat yet went rapidlyforward. Straight up to the bully he walked and looked him firmly in theeye. "You struck my brother Andy because you thought you could, " hesaid. And then, in the language of those Western boys, "he lit intohim. " "'Tis Andy's fist is on you now!" he cried, while he rained blowson the hulking coward, who did not offer to defend himself. "And there!"with a tremendous kick as Jim Barrows turned to run, "is a taste of hisfoot. Touch him again if you dare!"

Needless to say, he didn't dare. "I hear your brother Andy's beenfighting, " said the principal, as he stopped Pat the next day in thestreet. "At least, there are marks of Andy's fist and Andy's foot on JimBarrows. " His eyes twinkled as he spoke and then grew grave again. "Fighting's a bad thing in general, but you are excusable, my lad, youare excusable. "

Pat looked after the principal going with a quick firm step on his busyway, and thought him the finest man in town, for, so far, nobody hadgiven the poor Irish boy a word of sympathy and encouragement. 

That evening Pat ventured to tell his mother. 

"And so that's what the principal said, is it?" commented Mrs. O'Callaghan. "He's a man of sinse. Your father was a man of great sinse, Pat. Fightin' is a bad thing, so it is. But your father's gone, and it'syou must kape the little wans from harm in his place. You'd be but a badbrother to stand by and see any wan strike little Andy. There's somethings has got to be put a stop to, and the sooner it's done the better, says I. " Then after a pause, "I hope you larn your lessons, Pat?"

"I do, mother. "

"I thought you would. Your father always larnt all that come handy tohim. Larnin's no load, Pat. Larn all you can. "

Now Pat, with the exception of Latin, was no whit behind other boys ofhis age, for he had been sent to school in the country from the time hewas five years old. The fight being over, he gave his mind thoroughly tohis books, a thing he could not do while he did not know what to expectfrom Jim Barrows and his set, and his class-standing was high. 

And now the first of April was at hand. The O'Callaghans had been amonth in town and the widow was beginning to see that she hadoverestimated the purchasing power of what she could earn at fourwashing places. Four dollars a week needed a supplement. How could it besupplied? Mrs. O'Callaghan cast about in her mind. She had alreadydiscovered that Wennott offered a poor field for employment, so far asboys were concerned, and yet, in some way, her boys must help her. Byday, by night she thought and could hit upon nothing unless she took hersons from school. 

"And that I'll not do, " she said, "for larnin' is at the root ofeverything. "

CHAPTER IV

Is Friday an unlucky day? You could not get Mrs. O'Callaghan to thinkso, for it was upon the Friday that closed a week of anxious thinkingthat Mrs. Brady called at the shanty. Neither could you get Mrs. Bradyto think so, for--but let us begin a little farther back. Hired girls, as they were called in Wennott, were extremely scarce. Mrs. Brady waswithout one--could not get one, though she had advertised long andpatiently. Now she was tired to exhaustion. Sitting in the old woodenrocker that had been Mr. O'Callaghan's, Mrs. Brady rested a few momentsclosely surrounded on all sides by the O'Callaghan furniture. 

"'Tis a bit snug, ma'am, " Mrs. O'Callaghan had said when piloting her tothis seat, "but it's my belafe my b'ys don't moind the snugness of it somuch as they would if they was girls. "

Mrs. Brady mechanically agreed. 

The four walls of the kitchen were rather too close together to inclosea bed, a wash-bench, two tubs, a cooking stove, a table, seven Windsorchairs, the water pail, the cupboard, and the rocking-chair in whichMrs. Brady sat, and leave anything but a tortuous path for locomotion. The boys knew the track, however, and seldom ran up against anythingwith sufficient force to disturb it or their own serenity. But there wasnot a speck of dust anywhere, as Mrs. Brady noticed. 

The widow's face was a little careworn and anxious as she sat close athand in one of the wooden chairs listening to Mrs. Brady's explanationof her need of help. 

"You have been recommended to me by Mrs. Thompson. Could you come to meto-morrow, Mrs. O'Callaghan? It will be a day of sweeping and generalcleaning, " she concluded. 

The widow's countenance began to brighten. She saw her way out of thedifficulty that had been puzzling her. 

"I can't come mesilf, " she answered politely, "for what with my sivinb'ys I've my own work that can't be neglected. But my son, Pat, will doit for you. I'll come with him jist to get him started loike, for he'sniver swept a carpet, though he swapes a bare floor ilegant. "

Well, to be sure, Mrs. Brady was not overjoyed. But she saw it was Pator nobody, and she was very tired. So she agreed to try him. 

"And when will you have him come?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan. There was nodoubt expressed on the mother's face; no fear lest her son might not beable to please. 

"At eight, " responded Mrs. Brady. "I cannot be ready for him sooner. "

"Then together we'll be there, you may depind. "

And Mrs. Brady, on the whole dissatisfied, went on her way. "If thatboy--Pat, I think she called him--can do housework satisfactorily, he'sthe only boy that I've heard of here that can, " she thought. 

The next morning when the two presented themselves, Mrs. Brady, aftershowing Mrs. O'Callaghan where to leave her wraps, led the way at onceto her bedroom. "Perhaps you will just make my bed for me before you go, Mrs. O'Callaghan, " she insinuated. "It has been properly aired and isready. "

"Oh, Pat will make it for you, ma'am, " was the answer, and again Mrs. Brady yielded. 

"Now, Pat, on with your blouse. "

The two women waited while Pat untied the bundle he carried and put on aclean cotton blouse. 

"'Twas his father's blouse, ma'am. A bit loose now, but he'll grow toit. He's very loike his father. "

Mrs. Brady looked at the tall, slender boy wearing his father's blouseand his mother's apron, with an old straw hat on his head for a dustprotector, and then at the mother watching his every movement withloving eyes, and only anxious that he might give satisfaction. And allsense of incongruity vanished from her mind. 

"Now, Pat, show the lady what you can do. " And Pat obeyed as if he werefive instead of fifteen. The dead father had trained his sons from theirbabyhood to yield implicit obedience to their mother. Deftly he set towork. He turned the mattress; he smoothed and tucked in each sheet andcover as he put it on; he beat up the pillows, and within ten minutesthe bed was perfectly made. There was no need for Mrs. Brady to speak. She showed her surprise and delight in her face. 

"I was thinkin' Pat could suit you, ma'am, " smiled the mother. "And now, if you've more beds, maybe Pat had better make 'em before the dust ofthe swapin' is on him. "

"I have no more this morning, " responded Mrs. Brady courteously. 

[Illustration: "Mrs. Brady looked at the tall, slender boy. "]

"Then, Pat, there's the broom. " Then she turned to Mrs. Brady. "Now, ma'am, what's your ideas about swapin'? There's them that says, 'Swapeaisy and not be gettin' the wools off the carpet. ' But them wools don'tmany of 'em come off the carpet. There's a plinty of 'em comes on barefloors that ain't swept regular. I says, 'A vigorous swapin' and nolight brushin' except by a lady loike yoursilf as hasn't got strength. '"

"Those are my ideas, too, " said Mrs. Brady as with an air ofsatisfaction she began to spread the dust covers over her bed. 

All day Pat swept and dusted and wiped paint and window panes, and atnight he went home with seventy-five cents in his pocket. 

The widow was getting supper, but she worked mechanically, for her heartwas in her ears, and they were listening for Pat's step. The brothers, stowed here and there in chinks between the pieces of furniture, watchedwith eager eyes their mother's movements, and sniffed the savory odorsthat escaped from a perfectly clean saucepan in capable hands. But noboy lounged on the bed, nor even leaned against it, and no one sat inthe father's chair. To sit there meant special honor at the hands of thefamily. 

"And it's Pat will sit in the rocking-chair and rest himsilf thisavenin', " cried Mrs. O'Callaghan, returning to her cooking from a brieftrip to the door. "It's Pat'll be bringin' home money the night; honestmoney that he's earned. "

The little boys appeared impressed, and on Mike's face came a look ofdetermination that led his mother to say, "All in good toime, Moike. You're as willin' as Pat any day. I know that. And the way you lookafter the little b'ys, your father himsilf couldn't do better. "

And then Pat came stepping in. 

"Did she praise you, Pat?" cried the little woman as she dished up thesupper. She was hungry for appreciation of her boy. 

"She did that. She said, 'Patrick, you're elegant help, and will youcome again next Saturday?"

"And what did you tell her?"

"I told her I would, and let that Jim Barrows keep a civil tongue in hishead when he hears of it, or I'll be teaching him another lesson. He'llnot be throwin' it up to me that it's girl's work I'm doin' if he knowswhat's best for him. "

"Listen to me, Pat, " said his mother, soberly. "I'll be tellin' you nowmy plans for you so you'll not be runnin' agin 'em. It's to be agintleman you are, and gintlemen don't fight jist because some JimBarrows of a fellow says tauntin' words to 'em. You had to kape him offAndy, but moindin' his impudence to yoursilf is another thing. "

For the first time in his life Pat looked unconvinced of his mother'swisdom, and she went on soothingly, "But sure and I don't belave he'llbe sayin' a word to you, Pat. And anyway you know how many of theblissid saints and angels was women on the earth, and how it was theirwork to kape things clane and pleasant for them they loved. And thatain't a work to be ashamed of by girl or b'y. "

The little boys busily eating had seemed not to notice. Only Mike hadlooked on with interest. But into all their hearts had sunk the lessonthat gentlemen did not fight. 

"Are we all to be gintlemen?" asked Barney looking up when his plate wasquite empty. 

"Ivery wan of you. What should your father's b'ys be but gintlemen andhim the best man as iver lived?"

It was not to be expected that in any place service such as Pat's wouldbe willingly done without, least of all in Wennott. The more Mrs. Bradythought of it, the smaller and more unsatisfactory did Saturday appear, and on Friday morning she went again to the shanty. 

"And I hope you're not come to say you've changed your moind aboutwantin' Pat to-morrow, " said Mrs. O'Callaghan when civil greetings hadbeen exchanged and Mrs. Brady sat once more in the rocker. 

"In one sense I have changed my mind, " answered Mrs. Brady with a smile. "I want Pat to-morrow, but I want him all the other days of the week, too. "

The widow was silent. She had not planned so far as this. What would Patsay? Would he do it?

"I will give him his board and lodging and a dollar a week to help meSaturday and Sunday, and before and after school the other days of theweek. Saturday he would have to work all day, of course, but Sunday hewould have almost nothing to do, " said Mrs. Brady. "The washing andironing I put out, " she added as Mrs. O'Callaghan still hesitated. 

"You're very koind, ma'am, " responded the widow after a pause. "I hopePat'll go to you. I'll ask him. "

"What makes you think he might not like to come?" inquired Mrs. Brady, anxious in her turn. 

"Well, you see, ma'am, 'tis girl's work entoirely you want him to do. And Pat's been put on and made fun of almost more than he can bear sincewe moved to Wennott. Sure and them b'ys--I'd call 'em imps, only they'rebig for imps, bein' bigger and stouter than Pat himsilf--they sets onhim and foretells when his arms is goin' to burst through his sleevesand such as that, loike an almanac, ma'am. And him a-loikin' niceclothes as well as any one, only he can't get 'em because it's poor weare, ma'am. Not that there's anything wrong about that. 'Tis the Lord'swill that it's so, and we're doin' our best with it. But Pat's young. Hedidn't mean to tell me of it, but his moind bein' full of it, it slippedout. 

"Pat, he done as I told him, and come to you a-Saturday, and he'd kapeon comin' Saturdays, but I can't tell him he must go out to serviceloike a girl, when I know what thim b'ys will have in store for him. Imust jist ask him, do you see? And what he'll say, I can't tell. He'smighty brave. Maybe he'll come. I've been tellin' him he's not to belickin' that Jim Barrows if he is impudent to him. "

"Does Pat fight?" asked Mrs. Brady doubtfully. "He seemed so amiable. "

"And pleasant he is, " cried the widow earnestly. "'Twas not for himsilfhe fought, do you understand. 'Twas because Jim Barrows hurt Andy'sfeelin's and struck him besides. Andy's my third son, ma'am. He's onlyeleven, and not strong ayther. And Pat, he loves him better, I belave, than he does all the rest of the b'ys put together. "

"Oh!" said Mrs. Brady with a relieved air. 

"But havin' got a taste of makin' Jim Barrows kape off Andy has sort ofgot him in the notion of not takin' nothin' off him, do you see? Butit's his father has a good influence over him yet. Tim's in his grave, ma'am, but it's meanin' I am he shall still rule his b'ys. And he does, too. "

CHAPTER V

There was a certain part of Wennott which its own residents were wont tothink was _the_ part of town in which to live. Sometimes inconfidence they even congratulated themselves over their own goodfortune and commiserated the rest of the town who lived upon the flatlands. 

The rest of the town were not discontented in the least. They thoughtnortheast Wennott was a little far out, themselves. And it was a goodthree-quarters of a mile from the public square. But the knolls were notto be had any nearer, and those who owned them felt repaid for the walkit took to reach them. The places were larger, the air was fresher andsweeter, and there was only one knoll to rent among them all. Beyond theknolls were the northeast suburbs, built upon as flat land as any thetown afforded, and farther on stretched rolling prairie, picturesquelybeautiful. It was upon one of the knolls that Mrs. Brady lived, in asquare house of an old-fashioned build, having a hall running throughthe center with rooms on each side. It fronted the west. To the left, asone entered, was the dining-room; to the right, the parlor, whose alwaysopen folding doors made the pleasant sitting-room a part of itself. There was a bay window in the east end of the sitting-room, and one'sfirst glance in at the parlor door from the hall always traveled pasteverything else to rest on the mass of green and blossoms in the baywindow. For Mrs. Brady was an expert at floriculture. Here and there onthe lawn, not crowded, but just where it seemed natural to find them, were rosebushes of different varieties that waited patiently all winterfor the appreciation of their beauty which summer was sure to bring, andamong them were some of the kinds Mrs. Brady had loved in the Easternhome of her girlhood. 

One stepped out from the south door of the sitting-room to find narrowbeds for all sorts of summer blooms hugging the house, and looked aboutto see farther on occasional other beds. Everything was represented inher flower garden, from sweet alyssum and mignonette to roses andlilies, just as a little of all sweet qualities mingled themselves inher disposition. She was no longer young, and she had come to be quitefrail. 

"I hope he will come, " she said as she let herself in at the front door. 

From the shanty she had come the back way, a part of which followed therailroad track, and the walk had not been very long, but wearily shesank down to rest. 

"He's such a handy boy, " she thought. "If he shouldn't come!"

And down at the shanty Mrs. O'Callaghan, as she washed vigorously forher boys, was thinking, too. 

"It's wishin' I am 'twas avenin', " she cried at last, "and then 'twouldbe off my moind, so 'twould. I can't tell no more than nothin' whatPat'll be sayin'. And what's worse, I can't tell what I want him to besayin'. 'Tis the best I want him to be doin', but what's the best? If hedon't go, there's a chance gone of earnin' what we need. And if he doesgo, I'll be at my wits' ends to kape him from settlin' that Jim Barrows. It's widows as has their trials when they've sivin b'ys on their hands, and all of 'em foine wans at that. "

It was a very uncertain day. Cloud followed sunshine, and a sprinkle ofrain the cloud, over and over again. 

"Sure an' the weather an' me's as loike as two peas the day. We'renayther of us to be depinded on, so we ain't, not knowin' what we want. Look at my clothes not dryin' an' me a-frettin'. What's the use of itall? Let Pat do as he will, I'll think no more of it. "

The little woman was capable. She could work; she could control herboys, though sometimes, when it seemed best, she could give control ofthem into their own hands, and she could govern her thoughts with somemeasure of success. So, casting her worries behind her, she went aboutbrightly and cheerily as if nothing of an anxious nature lay before her, amusing Larry with chatter suited to his years, and making him contentedto stay indoors while she toiled. For Mrs. O'Callaghan was as young asher youngest child, and as old as her oldest. It was easy for the boysto get close to mother. Only once did her mind revert to the forbiddentheme. Dinner was over and she stood watching Pat, who was fastdisappearing on his way to school. 

"There's toimes to be spakin', and toimes to be kapin' still, " she said. "Niver a word must I be sayin' till the rest of 'em's abed, and it'shard waitin', so it is. It's my belafe that's what makes some b'ys sounruly--takin' 'em at the wrong toime. Sure and b'ys has their feelin'sloike the rest of the world. Spake to 'em by their lone silves whenyou've aught to say to 'em. There's niver a man of 'em all, not evenGineral Brady himsilf, would loike bein' bawled at in a crowd aboutsomethin' that needed thinkin' over. And Gineral Brady's the foine man, too. Big and straight he walks, a-wearin' his plug hat, and old andyoung is plazed to meet him. Well, his business is done. There's no morefoightin'. But he was a brave foighter! My Tim saw him at it more'nwanst. Tim was a long way behind the Gineral, but Tim, he done his duty, too. Sure some has to be behoind, and if that's your place, 'Make thatplace respicted, ' says I. "

She turned from the door and went back to her work. 

"There's some as thinks the Gineral has a business, " she went on. "There's them that calls him a banker. But what sort of a business isthat now? Jist none at all. All he does is to take in the money, and putit in a safe place where nobody won't steal it, and hand it out againwhen it's needed, and lend a little now and then to somebody that wantsit and is loikely to be payin' it back again. Anybody could do that. There's no work to it. And, by the same token, it's no business. Whenthe war was over, the Gineral's business was done, I say, and it'shopin' I am it'll soon be evenin', for I'm wantin' to hear what Pat'llsay. "

It was, in the main, a quiet supper at the shanty, and, for the mostpart, a silent evening. One by one the boys went to bed, and Pat and hismother were left alone. 

"Pat, " began Mrs. O'Callaghan, in a tremble of eagerness andapprehension, "who do you think was here the mornin'?"

"Sure and I couldn't guess, mother dear. You'll have to be tellin' me. "

"And so I will, " was the prompt reply. "'Twas Mrs. Gineral Brady, then. And she loikes your work that well, Pat, she wants you to go to herhouse to live. "

At first the boy looked bewildered. Then a light of understandingflashed over his face, and he blushed as if with shame. To go out toservice like a girl! He couldn't do it, and he wouldn't. But even in hisfierce young indignation he restrained himself. He had suffered so muchof late that he was growing very careful about inflicting suffering uponothers, especially upon his mother. He covered his eyes with his handand sat quite still for a few moments before he inquired, "What did youtell her?"

"I told her I'd ask you, Pat. Only that. " The boy wheeled round in theold Windsor chair in which he sat, threw his arms over the top of itsback and buried his face. They had been in town now six weeks. Pat hadlearned by his experience in cooking how fast supplies went in a largefamily. Two weeks before, the generous contributions of their countryneighbors had given entirely out, and Pat, as marketer, had learned howmuch money it took to buy with. Four dollars a week would not, couldnot, support the family even in summer time. Hard knowledge was this fora boy of fifteen to have, and hardly had it been learned. If he went, there was Jim Barrows and his set with more jeers and insults which hemust not avenge. If he did not go--all at once he remembered that ridehome from Wennott with his mother, when he had asked her what he coulddo and what Mike could do to help. Was this the answer? Was he to liveout like a girl, and Mike to take his place with the work at home?

He lifted his face, and his blue eyes had a pleading look that went tothe widow's heart. "Mother, tell me what I must do, " he said. 

"I can't, Pat dear. You must say for yoursilf. "

There was loving sympathy in look and tone, but the little woman'sdetermination was clear. Pat must decide for himself. And the young headwent down again. 

Ten long minutes went by before Pat spoke again, and his voice had amuffled sound, for his face was not lifted. "Mother, are you willin'?"he asked. 

"I am, Pat, my son. "

Heavier the dreadful prospect pressed upon him. He could trust hismother, and she was willing. Then it must be right. 

More minutes went by. Pat had a telltale voice. Clear and musical, ithad ever revealed to the mother the heart of her son. And its sadnessand submission smote upon her as he said at last, "You may tell her I'llgo, mother. "

"I always knowed you was brave, Pat, " said Mrs. O'Callaghan. Then arough little hand was laid on his head--the hand of an honestwasherwoman--and in a reverent tone came the words, "Your father wasbrave. "

The boy looked up gratefully. To be likened to his father was dear tohim. 

"Yes, Pat, " went on Mrs. O'Callaghan. "'Most anybody can take a noicepayin' job as suits 'em, but it's the brave wans that takes the workthey don't want to do and does it good, too. "

And then the mother who had the courage to battle cheerfully for herchildren, and the son who had the courage to do what seemed best in theface of contempt and ridicule, went to their rest. 

CHAPTER VI

The next morning Pat stepped out into the kitchen and donned his apronin a downcast mood. The uplift of his mother's praise had passed, andthe fact remained that to-day he was to go out to service like a girl. The little boys were up and stowed here and there waiting for breakfast. Some little boys cannot be kept in bed mornings as long as their elderscould wish, and the widow's little boys were of that kind. 

"Get up, if you want to, " was Mrs. O'Callaghan's counsel to her youngestsons, "but see to it you don't get under Pat's feet. Nayther must you berunnin' out doors, for Moike to be haulin' you in when breakfast'sready. "

These orders shut the little fellows into a narrow space, and they werealways eager for the morning meal to be over. Andy and Jim were not insuch a hurry to rise, having reached the age when boys need a deal ofpersuasion to get them up. 

"They'll be along in a minute, " thought the widow. "Here comes Moike. "

[Illustration: "Pat donned his apron. "]

Along they were in a minute, as their mother had predicted. The littlewoman was fond of effect. "There's toimes when it's the thing to spakebefore 'em all, " she thought. "This is wan of 'em. Pat needs heartenin'a bit. "

Then with an air of authority she said: "Pat, off with your apron!"

The rest were eyes and ears at once as their mother meant they shouldbe, but Pat only stared in surprise. Some way he felt stupid thismorning. 

"Off with your apron, " repeated Mrs. O'Callaghan, "and sit you down inthe father's chair. I get the breakfast this mornin'. "

With a shamefaced blush Pat obeyed, amid the wondering looks of hisbrothers. 

"You'll be sayin' farewell to Pat this mornin', " went on the widow, herglance traveling from one to another. "It's lavin' us he is to go toGineral Brady's to live. 'Tis hard toimes we've been havin' and harder'sbefore us. Pat seen it and he's a-goin' to help. He'll be gettin' hisboard and he'll still be goin' to school. "

At this Pat started. 

"Did you think I'd be willin' for you to lave school, my son?" asked themother tenderly. 

Then turning to the rest once more, "And it's a dollar a week he'll begettin' besides. He's his father's son, and he's got a head older thanhis years, or he'd niver 'a' been the brave b'y he is, nor seen nothin'to be brave about, nayther. And he'll be comin' to visit us when Mrs. Brady can spare him, and that'll be when his work's done, of course; andalways he sits in his father's chair. "

Redder and redder flushed Pat's cheeks, seeing which the widow adroitlydrew the general attention to her second son. 

"And here's the chance for Moike, " she said, going busily on with herwork. "Will you be makin' the beds and kapin' things shinin' and doin'the cookin' for us all?"

"You know I will, mother. "

The little woman smiled. "Sure and I knowed you would. I jist asked you. 

"Now, b'ys, there's what they call permotions. Often and often have Iheard your father spake of 'em. We're havin' some of 'em this mornin'. Pat, he goes to earnin' money and his board. That gives Moike a chanceto step up into his place, do you see? That's what permotions is for, I'm thinkin'--to give the wans behoind you a chance. Always step up whenyou honestly can, b'ys, if for no other reason, to give the wan behoindyou a chance. There's no tellin' what he can do till he gets a chance, do you see? Tim, he wouldn't 'a' stayed foightin' a private if the wanahead of him had only done his duty and stepped up. But some folks niverdoes their duty, and it's hopin' I am you'll none of you be loike 'em. It's a noice place Pat's goin' to, so 'tis. There's a queer little housewith a glass roof on jist across the street from it, and, by the sametoken, it's a wonder how they can kape a glass roof on it. There's themthat can't even kape their window glass in, so there is, but goesa-stuffin' up the holes with what they can get. It's full of plants, so'tis, a sort of a garden house where they sells flowers for weddin's andfunerals and such, and maybe Pat'll be showin' you through it some daywhen he gets acquainted. I'm told anybody can see it. Grane house, Ibelave they calls it, but why anybody should call a garden house a granehouse I can't tell, for sure and it's not a bit of a grane idea to sellflowers if you can find them that has the money to buy 'em. "

At this, quiet little Andy, who was fond of his book, glanced up. "Maybethey call it greenhouse because it's full of green things, " he said. 

The widow nodded two or three times in a convinced manner. "To be sure. That's the reason, " she said. "And it's proud I am to have for my thirdson a b'y that can give the reasons of things. And there's anotherpermotion we was forgettin'. Andy'll take Moike's place, so he will, andlook after the little b'ys. A b'y that can give reasons can look after'em wonderful, so he can, if he don't get so full of his reasons that heforgets the little b'ys entoirely. But Andy'll not be doin' that. Iniver told you before, but your father's favorite brother was namedAndy, and a great wan he was for reasons, as I've heard. 

"Now breakfast's ready, so 'tis. I took my toime to it, for permotionsalways takes toime. There's them that wants permotion in such a hurrythat they all but knocks over the wans in front of 'em. And that's bad, so 'tis. And no way at all, nayther. Jist kape yoursilf ready to step, and when the toime comes step aisy loike a gintleman, and then folksrej'ices with you, instead of feelin' of their bumps and wonderin' atyour impudence. And the worst of them koind of tryin's after permotionsis that it hurts them behoind you, for they're jist a-breathin' aisy, doyou see, when back you come a-tumblin' a-top of 'em, and lucky you areif you don't go past 'em, and land nobody knows where. "

Seldom were the little boys so deluged with wisdom beyond their power ofcomprehension, but this was a special occasion, and as the generaleffect of the widow's remarks was to stir up in all a determination todo their best just where they were, her aim had been accomplished. Pat, in particular, was encouraged. Perhaps he was in line of promotion. Hehoped it might come soon. 

"Now, Moike, " cried Mrs. O'Callaghan when Pat was gone, "here's a chancefor you. It's lucky I am to be at home the day. I'll be teachin' you abit of all sorts, so I will, for you've everything to larn, Moike, andthat's the truth, barrin' the lay of the tracks, and the switches, andthe empty cars a-standin' about, and how to kape the little b'ys fromhurtin' thimsilves. "

Mike looked rather disheartened. 

"You niver let 'em get hurted wanst, did you, Moike? And that's doin'well, too. I hope Andy'll be comin' up to you in that. "

So encouragingly did his mother smile upon him as she said these lastwords that he visibly brightened. He was not tall and slender like Pat, but rather short and of a sturdy build. And he tied on his apron withdetermination in his eye. 

"Do you know what you look loike, Moike?"

The boy glanced at her inquiringly. 

"You look loike you was goin' to make short work of your larnin' andcome up to Pat before you know it. I niver knowed a b'y to get the worstof it that looked that way out of his eye. It's a sort of 'do it I will, and let them stop me that can' look, Moike dear. Not that anybody wantsto stop you, and it's an ilegant look, too, as I've often seen on yourfather's face when he had a hard job ahead of him. "

By this time Mike was ready for anything. He really knew more than hismother gave him credit for, having furtively watched Pat more than once. 

"Well, well, Moike!" exclaimed Mrs. O'Callaghan when the last bed wasmade. "That's a sight better as Pat's first try at bed-makin'. If he washere he'd say that wasn't so bad nayther, and it's yoursilf as knowsPat's an ilegant bed-maker. If you'd seen him astonishin' Mrs. GineralBrady you'd 'a' seen a sight now. I was proud that day. "

Mike smiled with satisfaction and reached for the broom. His mother saidnothing, but not a move escaped her critical eye. As far as the bedscould be moved, they were moved, and around them and under them wentMike's busy broom. Mike was warm-blooded, and it was a pretty red-facedboy that stood at last before his mother with the dustpan in his hand. There was strong approval on the little woman's face. 

"Pat himsilf couldn't 'a' beat that. It's my belafe you've got a giftfor swapin', " she said. "I can leave home to go to my washin' with anaisy mind, I see, and with no fears of chance callers foindin' dirtyfloors and mussy-lookin' beds a-disgracin' me. If widows is iver lucky, which I doubt, Moike, I'm lucky this far. I've got some wonderful foinesons, so I have. "

Mike, at this, beamed with the consciousness that he was one of the sonsand a fully appreciated one, too. A long time he had stood in the shadowof Pat's achievements. This morning he was showing what he could do. 

"This permotion is pretty foine, " said Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Moike, my b'y, you have stepped up aisy loike a gintleman into Pat's place, and nowlet's see you cook. "

Mike looked crestfallen at once. "I can't cook, mother, " he said. "Notthe least in the world. Often and often I've watched Pat, but I nevercould get the hang of it. "

The widow was silent a moment, "Well, then!" she cried, "you've got the hang of bein' an honest b'y, and not pretindin' to do what you can't do, and that's better as bein'the best cook in the world. Niver do you pretind, Moike, not becausethere's always somebody about to foind you out, but because pretindin'smean. I'd have no pride left in me if I could think I had a pretindin'b'y about the house. And now, Moike, I'll teach you to cook. It's mybelafe you can larn it. Why, Pat didn't know nothin' about it when hebegun, and now he can cook meat and potatoes and such better as many adoless girl I've seen. You think Pat's cookin' tastes pretty good, don'tyou, Moike?"

"I do, mother, " said Mike earnestly and without a tinge of jealousy inhis tone. He loved and admired Pat with all his heart. 

"You can larn it, too, if you only think so, " encouraged Mrs. O'Callaghan. 

"There's them that think's that cookin's a special gift, and they'reright, too. But there's things about cookin' that anybody can attind to, such as havin' kettles and pans clean, and kapin' the fire up when it'sneeded, and not roastin' a body's brains out when it ain't needed. Yes, and there's other things, " she continued with increasing earnestness. "There's them as thinks if they've a book or paper stuck about handy, and them a-poppin' down to read a bit ivery now and then, it shows thatcookin's beneath 'em. And then the meat burns or it sogs and gets tough, the potatoes don't get the water poured off of 'em in toime, and thingsbiles over on the stove or don't bile at all, at all, and what does allthat show, Moike? Not that they're above cookin', but that they'relackin' in sinse. For a sinsible person always pays attintion to whatthey're at, but a silly is lookin' all ways but the right wan, and tento wan but if you looked inside their skulls you'd foind 'em that emptyit would astonish you. Not that I'm down on readin', but that readin'and cookin' hadn't ought to be mixed. Now, Moike, if any of these thingsI've been tellin' you of happens to your cookin', you'll know where toput the blame. Don't say, 'I wasn't made to cook, I guess'. That's whatI wanst heard a silly say when she'd burnt the dinner. But jistunderstand that your wits must have been off a piece, and kape 'em byyou nixt toime. But what's that n'ise?"

She stepped to the door. A short distance off Jim was trying to getsomething away from Barney, who was making up in roars what he lacked instrength. Up went Mrs. O'Callaghan's hands to curve around her mouth andform a speaking trumpet. 

"Jim, come here!" she called. 

Jim began to obey, and his mother, leaving Mike inside to think over herremarks on cooking, stood waiting for his lagging feet. 

"Well, Jim, " she said when he stood before her, "it's ashamed of you Iam, and that's the truth. A big b'y loike you, noine years old, a-snatchin' something from little Barney and him only sivin! It's mybelafe your father niver snatched nothin' from nobody. "

At this Jim's countenance fell, for, in common with all his brothers, heshared a strong desire to be like his father. 

"You may go now, but remember you'll be takin' Andy's place some day, a-carin' for the little wans. "

The idea of taking Andy's place, even at so indefinite a period assometime, quite took the edge off his mother's rebuke, and Jim wentstepping off with great importance. 

"Jim!" she called again, and the boy came back. 

"That's a terrible swagger you've got on you, Jim. Walk natural. Yourfather was niver wan of the swaggerin' sort. And jist remember thattakin' care of the little b'ys ain't lordin' it over 'em nayther. "

CHAPTER VII

"If I'm goin', I may as well go, " thought Pat as he left his mother'sdoor on that mid-April Saturday morning. And away he went on therailroad track at a rapid pace that did not give him much time to think. 

It was the General himself who answered his knock that had a strangemixture of the bold and the timid. The General had been listening forthat knock. He had been wondering what sort of a boy it was who waswilling to go out by the day to do housework. The knock, told him. "Hehates to come, but he comes, nevertheless, " thought the General. And hearose and opened the door. 

He looked into the boy's face and he saw a determined mouth and pleadingeyes. 

"Grit, " thought the General. But he only said, "Come in, my boy. "

"Yes, sir, if you please, sir, will you be tellin' Mrs. General Bradythat I'm here, sir?" was Pat's answer as, with flushing cheeks, hestepped awkwardly into the room. What a fine soldierly bearing theGeneral had, and how he must despise a boy who could turn himself into agirl!

"Sit down, Pat, " said the General pleasantly. "That's your name, isn'tit? I'll tell Mrs. Brady presently. "

Pat sat down. He could not imagine the General with an apron on doinghousework, though that was what he was trying to do while he sat therewith cheeks that grew redder and more red. 

"Mrs. Brady tells me you are excellent help, Pat, " went on the General. 

"Yes, sir, " stammered Pat. 

"Have you come to stay, or just for the day?"

The boy's eyes were almost beseeching as he answered, "I've come tostay, sir. " What would the General think of him now?

"I suppose you like housework, then?"

"No, sir, " came the answer in a low tone. "But father's gone, andthere's mother and the boys and there's no work for boys in Wennottunless they turn themselves into girls. "

"Better turn into a girl than into a tough from loafing on the streets, Pat, " said the General heartily, as he rose from his chair. "I'll tellMrs. Brady you are here. "

There was not so much in what the genial master of the house had said, but Pat's head lifted a little. Perhaps the General did not despise himafter all. 

"I've good news for you, Fannie, " said the General as he entered thedining-room. "Your boy has come, and come to stay. "

"Oh, has he? I'm so glad. " And she smiled her pleasure. "He's such anice boy. "

"He's a brave boy, " said her husband with emphasis. "That boy has thegrit of a hero. He may come into our kitchen for a time, but, pleaseGod, he shan't stay there. I know what he will have to take from thosestreet boys for doing the best he can for his mother and youngerbrothers and he knows it, too. I saw it in his face just now. The boythat has the moral courage to face insult and abuse deserves to rise, and he shall rise. But, bless me! I'm getting rather excited over it, Isee. " And he smiled. 

[Illustration: "'I've good news for you, Fannie, ' said the General. "]

"Perhaps, Tom, you could shield him a little in the street, " suggestedMrs. Brady. 

"I'll do my best, my dear. " And then the General went away to his bank, and Mrs. Brady went into the kitchen to see Pat. 

Pat was sensitive. There was something in the General's manner as heleft him, something in Mrs. Brady's tones as she directed him, thatrestored his self-respect. 

"If only I never had to be goin' on the street till after dark, 'twouldn't be so bad, " thought Pat. "But there's school, and there's JimBarrows. I'll just have to stand it, that's what I will. Mother says I'mbrave, but it's not very brave inside I'm feelin'. I'd run if I could. "

But Pat was to learn some day, and learn it from the General's lips, that the very bravest men have been men who wanted to run and_wouldn't_. 

At General Brady's there was light lunch at noon and dinner at five, which was something Pat had already become accustomed to from having todo his own family cooking for the last six weeks. He was pretty wellused to hurrying home the moment the afternoon session of school wasover to prepare the meal of the day for his hungry brothers and histired mother. On Monday, therefore, he came flying into the Bradykitchen at fifteen minutes of five. There was the dinner cooking, withno one to watch it. Where was Mrs. Brady? Pat did not stop to inquire. His own experience told him that that dinner needed immediate attention. 

Down went his books. He flew to wash his hands and put on his apron. Heturned the water off the potatoes in a jiffy. "Sure and I just saved'em, and that's all!" he cried, as he put them to steam dry. 

"I'll peep in the oven, so I will, " he said. "That roast needs bastin', so it does. "

He heard the General come in. 

"There's a puddin' in the warm oven, " he continued, "but I don't knownothin' about that. It's long since we've had puddin' at home. I'll justdress the potatoes and whip 'em up light. I can do that anyway, and givethe roast another baste. It's done, and I'll be settin' it in the warmoven along with the puddin'. For how do I know how Mrs. Brady wants hergravy? Where is she, I wonder?"

"Why, Pat, " said a surprised voice, "can you cook?"

"Not much, ma'am, " answered Pat with a blush. "But I can sometimes keepother people's cookin' from spoilin'. "

"Well said!" cried the General, who was determined to make Pat feel atease. "Fannie, give me an apron, and I'll make the gravy. I used to be afamous hand at it in the army. "

Pat stared, and then such a happy look came into his eyes that theGeneral felt a little moisture in his own. 

"How that boy has been suffering!" he said to himself. 

"I was detained by a caller, " explained Mrs. Brady. "The dinner wouldsurely have been spoiled if Pat had not come just when he did. "

And then Pat's cup was full. He blushed, he beamed. Here was theGeneral, the man whom his mother had held up to Pat's admiration, withan apron on, cooking! And Mrs. Brady said that he had saved the dinner. 

"Let Jim Barrows say what he likes, " he thought. "I'd not like to beeatin' any of his cookin'. "

Cooking had risen in Pat's estimation. 

"She asked me, 'Will you please not be nickin' or crackin' the dishes, Pat?' And says I, 'I'll be careful, Mrs. Brady. ' But I wonder what makes'em have these thin sort of dishes. I never seen none like 'em nowhereelse. "

Dinner was over and Pat was alone in the kitchen. 

[Illustration: The General makes the gravy. ]

"But the General makin' the gravy was fine, and sure I never tasted nobetter gravy neither. I wish I could just be lettin' 'em know at home. Mike will have to be turnin' into a girl, too, one of these days, and itmight ease him a bit if he could know the General wasn't above cookin'. My mother said I'd be comin' to visit 'em when my work was done, if Mrs. Brady could spare me. "

A half-hour later a trim-looking boy presented himself at thesitting-room door. 

"Come in, Pat, " invited the General, looking up from his paper with asmile. 

Pat smiled back again, but it was to Mrs. Brady that he turned as heentered the room. 

"Mrs. Brady, ma'am, " he said, "the dishes are done and the kitchen madeneat. Will you have me to be doin' something more for you this evenin'?"

"No, Pat, " replied Mrs. Brady kindly. "Your work, for to-day, is done. You may take off your apron. "

"Yes, ma'am. Would you kindly be lettin' me go home a little whilethen?"

Pat's look was eager but submissive. 

"Certainly, Pat, " was the reply. "Take the kitchen key with you. "

"Thank you, kindly, ma'am, " returned Pat gratefully. And with anothersmile for the General, who had not resumed his reading, the boy left theroom, and, shortly after, the house. 

"Listen!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan, with uplifted ringer. And therollicking talk about her ceased on the instant. 

"'Tis Pat's step I hear outside, and here he is, sure enough. Now, b'ys, don't all of you be on him at wanst. Let him sit down in the father'schair. "

Pat, feeling the honor paid him, and showing that he felt it, sat down. The little boys crowded around him with their news. Jim and Andy got asnear to him as they could for furniture, while Mike looked at him fromthe farther side of the tiny room with a heart full of love andadmiration in his eyes. They had not seen Pat since Saturday morningexcept at school that day, and that was not like having him at home withthem. 

"And how does your work come on?" asked his mother as soon as she couldget in a word. 

"Fine, " said Pat. "'Tis an elegant place. " Then, with an air that triedhard to be natural, he added, "The General himself made the gravyto-day. "

"What!" exclaimed his mother. "The Gineral!"

"He did, " said Pat. "He put on one of Mrs. Brady's aprons, and 'twasfine gravy, too. "

The widow looked her astonishment. "And do you call that foine?" shedemanded at last. "The Gineral havin' to make his own gravy? What wasyou a-doin', Pat?"

"I was helpin' Mrs. Brady with the puddin' sauce and dishin' up. 'Twasbehind we all was, owin' to a caller, and Mrs. Brady said if it hadn'tbeen for me the dinner would have been spoiled sure. I got there just intime. "

"The Gineral, " said Mrs. O'Callaghan, looking about her impressively, "is the handsomest and the foinest gintleman in the town. Iverybody saysso. And the Gineral ain't above puttin' an apron on him and makin'gravy. Let that be a lesson to you all. The war's over. You'll none ofyou iver be ginerals. But you can all make gravy, so you can. "

"When, mother, when?" asked Barney and Tommie eagerly, who saw at oncethat gravy would be a great improvement on mud pies, their only culinaryaccomplishment at present. 

"When?" repeated the widow. "All in good toime, to be sure. Pat will begivin' Moike the Gineral's receipt, and the b'y that steps into Moike'splace--and that'll be Andy, I'm thinkin'--he'll larn it of Moike, and soon, do you see?"

"And I was just thinkin', " put in Pat, with an encouraging glance atMike, "that Jim Barrows's cookin' was like to be poor eatin'. "

"True for you, my b'y!" exclaimed the widow. "The idea of that JimBarrows a-cookin' niver struck me before. But, as you say, no doubt'twould be poor. Them that's not above nignaggin' the unfortunate is aptto be thinkin' themsilves above cookin', and if they tried it wanst, nodoubt their gravy would be a mixture of hot water and scorch, with, likeenough, too little salt in it if it didn't have too much, and full oflumps besides. 'Tis your brave foightin' men and iligant gintlemen loikethe Gineral that makes the good gravy. "

CHAPTER VIII

"Pat, I forgot to give Mr. Brady the list of things that I want sent upthis morning. "

Pat looked up from his dishwashing sympathetically, for there wasperplexity in the kindly tone and on the face no longer young. 

It was always a mystery to the boy why Mrs. Brady called her husband"Mr. Brady" when everybody else said General Brady. 

"But it's none of my business, of course, " he told himself. 

It was Saturday morning. 

"Do you think you could go down, Pat, when the dishes are finished?"

"Indeed, and I can that, ma'am, " returned Pat heartily. 

"Do so, then, " was the reply. And Mrs. Brady walked away with a relievedair. 

"I'm ready, ma'am, " announced Pat, coming to the sitting-room door alittle later. "Will you be havin' me to take the list to General Brady, or will you be havin' me to be doin' the buyin' myself?"

Mrs. Brady thought a moment. Her husband very much disliked marketing. If Pat should prove as capable in that direction as in every other, theGeneral would be saved what was to him a disagreeable task. She resolvedto try him. So she said, "You may do the buying yourself, Pat. "

"Thank you kindly, ma'am, " answered Pat respectfully. 

"Do you like to buy things?" asked Mrs. Brady, surprised at theexpression of anticipated pleasure on the boy's face. 

"I don't like nothin' better, ma'am. 'Twas but a taste I'd got of itbefore I left home. Mike does our buyin' now. Buyin's next best tosellin', we both think. "

He took the list Mrs. Brady held out and ran his eye over it. "I'll betakin' my basket and bring the little things home myself", he said. "Would you believe it, ma'am, some of them delivery boys is snoopy, I'vebeen told. Not all of 'em, of course, but some of 'em just. Now raisins, you've got here. Raisins is mighty good, but let 'em buy their own, 'says I. And don't you be doin' nothin' but restin', ma'am, while I'mgone. If I'm off enjoyin' myself 'tain't fair as you should be up herea-workin'. There's not much to be done anyway, but I'll get through withit, " he ended with a smile. 

Away went Pat, stepping jauntily with his basket on his arm. It was thefirst of June, and Wennott, embowered in trees, was beautiful. He hadalmost reached the square before he thought, "She never told me where togo. I can't be wastin' my time goin' back. I'll just step into the bankand ask the General. "

Pat loved the General. A woman's apron was the bond that bound the poorIrish boy to the fine old soldier, and it was with the smile that theboy kept exclusively for him that he stepped in at the open door of thebank. 

The General was engaged, but he found time to answer the smile and tosay in his most genial tone, "In a moment, Pat. "

He was soon at liberty, and then he said, "Now, Pat, what is it?"

"Please, sir, have you any one place where you want me to be tradin', oram I to buy where the goods suit me?"

"Are you doing the marketing to-day, Pat?"

"Yes, sir. Mrs. Brady give me leave. "

"And what is your own idea about trading?"

"Buy where you can do the best for the money, sir, " was the promptreply. 

The banker looked at him thoughtfully. He had the key to Pat's futurenow. He knew along what line to push him, for he was determined to pushPat. And then he said, "Buy where you think best. But did Mrs. Bradygive you money?"

"She did, sir. This creditin' is poor business. Show 'em your money, andthey'll do better by you every time. "

The General listened in so interested a manner that Pat added, "It'sbecause the storemen can get all the creditin' they want to do and more, too, but them as steps up with the cash, them's the ones they're after. "

"And who taught you this, Pat?"

"Sure and my mother told me part of it, and part of it I just picked up. But I'll be goin' now, or Mrs. Brady will think I'm never comin'. She'llbe teachin' me to-day to make a fine puddin' for your dinner. "

The first store Pat went into had already several customers. As heentered, the clerks saw a tall boy wearing a blouse shirt and cottonadetrousers, and having on his head a broad-brimmed straw hat well setback. And they seemed not at all interested in him. The basket on hisarm was also against him. "Some greeny that wants a nickel's worth ofbeans, I suppose, " said one. 

But if the clerks seemed to make little of Pat, Pat, for his part, regarded them with indifference. The sight of the General making gravyhad changed the boy's whole outlook; and he had come to feel thatwhoever concerned himself with Pat O'Callaghan's business was out of hisprovince. Pat was growing independent. 

Other customers came in and were waited upon out of their turn while Patwas left unnoticed. 

"That's no way to do business, " he thought, "but if they can stand it, Ican. " And he looked about him with a critical air. He was not going offin a huff, and perhaps missing the chance of buying to advantage for theGeneral. At last a clerk drew near--a smallish, dapper young fellow ofabout twenty. 

"I'll be lookin' at raisins, " said Pat. 

"How many'll you have?" asked the clerk, stepping down the store on theinside of the counter, while Pat followed on the outside. 

"I said I'd be lookin' at 'em, " answered Pat. "I don't want none of 'emif they don't suit. "

The clerk glanced at him a little sharply, and then handed out a samplebunch of a poor quality. 

Pat did not offer to touch them. 

"They'll not do, " he said. "Have you no better ones? I want to see thebest ones you've got. "

"What's the matter with these?" asked the clerk quickly. 

"And how can I tell what's the matter with 'em? They're not the kind forGeneral Brady, and that you know as well as I. "

At mention of the General's name the clerk pricked up his ears. It wouldbe greatly to his credit if, through him, their house should catchGeneral Brady's trade. He became deferential at once. But he might aswell have spared his pains. No one, with Pat as buyer, would be able tocatch or to keep the General's trade. Whoever offered the best for themoney would sell to him. 

The boy had the same experience in every store he entered, as he wentabout picking up one article here and another there till all werechecked off his list. 

"There's more'n me thinks the General's a fine man, " he thought as hewent home. "There didn't nobody care about sellin' to me, but they wasall after the General's trade, so they was. And now I must hurry, for mywork's a-waitin' for me, and the puddin' to be learnin' besides. Would Ibe goin' back to live off my mother now, and her a-washin' to keep me?Indeed and I wouldn't. The meanest thing a boy can be doin', I believe, is to be lettin' his mother keep him if he can get a bit of work of anysort. "

With his mother's shrewd counsel backing him up, and with the Generalconstantly before him to be admired and imitated, Pat was developing amanly spirit. When he went to live with Mrs. Brady, he had offered hismother the dollar a week he was to receive as wages. 

"Sure and I'll not be takin' it, Pat, " said the little woman decidedly. 

To-night he had come home again, and this time he had brought threedollars with him. 

[Illustration: Pat doing the marketing. ]

"I told you I'd not be takin' it, Pat, and I won't nayther. " Though thewidow would not touch the coin, she looked lovingly at her son and wenton, "It's ginerous you are, loike your father, but you're helpin' meenough when you take your board off my hands. You must save your moneyto buy clothes for yoursilf, for you need 'em, Pat dear. Mrs. Bradycan't be puttin' up with too badly dressed help. Now don't you bespakin' yet, " she continued, as she saw him about to remonstrate. "It'sa skame of my own I've got that I want to be tellin' you about, for it'sa comfort you are to me, Pat. Many's the mother as can't say that to heroldest son, and all on account of the son bein' anything but a comfort, do you see? But I can say it, Pat, and mean it, too. A comfort you areto me. "

Pat smiled as he listened. 

"Do you know, Pat, " pursued his mother earnestly, "as I'm goin' to mywashin' places, I goes and comes different ways whiniver I can, forwhat's the use of always goin' the same way loike a horse in a treadmillwhen you don't have to? Course, if you have to, that's different. 

"Well, Pat, sure there's an awful lot of cows kept in this town. AndI've found out that most of 'em is put out to pasture in Jansen'spasture north of the railroad. It runs north most to the cemetery, I'mtold. But what of that when the gate's at this end? You don't have todrive the cows no further than the gate, Pat, dear. And the gate youalmost passes when you're goin' to Gineral Brady's by the back way upthe track. It's not far from us, by no manes. "

Pat's face expressed surprise. Did his mother want him to drive cows inaddition to his other work?

"Now all these cows. Pat, " continued his mother impressively, "belongswan cow at a house. I don't know but wan house where they kapes more, and their own b'ys does the drivin', and that wouldn't do us no good. The pay is fifty cents a month for drivin' a cow out in the mornin' anddrivin' it back at night, and them drivin' b'ys runs 'em till the folks, many of 'em, is wantin' a different koind of b'ys. Now what if I couldget about ten cows, and put Andy and Jim to drive 'em turn about, wanout and the other back. Wouldn't that be a good thing? Five dollars amonth to put to the sixteen I earn a-washin', and not too hard on theb'ys, nayther. Don't you think 'twould be a good thing, Pat?"

"I do, indeed, mother, " answered the son approvingly. 

"I knowed you would, and I belave your father would. How is it you cometo be so like him, Pat, dear? The blessed angels know. But you're acomfort to me. And now will you help me to get the cows? If you couldget a riference, I belave they calls it, from the Gineral, for we'remostly strangers yet. You can say you know Andy and Jim won't run thecows. "

The reference was had from the General that very evening, though the oldsoldier could not help smiling to himself over it, and the first of theweek found Andy and Jim trudging daily to and from the pasture. 

It was not without something like a spirit of envy that Barney andTommie saw Jim and Andy driving the cows. 

"Mother, why can't we be goin', too?" teased Barney, while Tommie stoodby with pouting lips. 

"And what for would you be goin'?" asked the widow. "Most cows don'tloike little b'ys. They knows, does the cows, that little b'ys is bestoff somewhere else than tryin' to drive them about sayin, ' 'Hi! hi!' andshowin' 'em a stick. "

The two still showing discontent, she continued: "But geese, now, isdifferent. And who's to be moindin' the geese, if you and Tommie was togo off after the cows? Sure geese is more your size than cows, I'mthinkin', and, by the same token, I hear 'em a-squawkin' now. What's thematter with 'em? Go see. Not that anybody iver knows what's the matterwith a goose, " she ended as the little boys chased out of the shanty. "It's for that they're called geese, I shouldn't wonder. "

CHAPTER IX

There is no whip to ambition like success. Every day the widow thought, and toiled, and kept her eyes open for chances for her boys. "For, after all, " said she, "twenty-one dollars a month is all too small tokape six b'ys and mesilf when the winter's a-comin', and 'twon't betwenty-one then nayther, for cows ain't drove to pasture in winter. "

It was the second son who was listening this time, and the two werealone in the shanty kitchen. 

"The days is long, and I belave, Moike, you could do something else thanour own housework, with Andy here to look after the little b'ys. "

"Say what it is, mother dear, and I'll do it, " cried Mike, who had beenenvying Pat his chance to earn. 

"Well, then, to be telling you the truth, Moike, who should be askin' meif I knowed of a boy to kape his lawn clean this summer but the Gineral. Says I, 'I do, Gineral Brady. I'll be bold to say my Moike will do it. 'So there I've promised for you, Moike, and you're to have a dollar amonth. "

The boy's delight at the prospect shone in his eyes and his mother wenton, "Strong and hearty you are, Moike, and I've been thinkin' what's tohinder your gettin' other lawns with school out next week and nothin' tobother you. "

The little woman looked tired and warm. She was just home fromThursday's wash, and she sat down wearily on one of the wooden chairs. Mike saw it, and, to the boy who would be fourteen the next day, theresuddenly came a realizing sense of the stay his mother was to thefamily. He noted with anxiety the lines that were deepening on her face. "Sit in father's chair, mother dear, " he coaxed. "'Twill rest you more. "

The widow looked at him with a pleased expression creeping over herface. 

"You're father and mother both, so you are. Sit in father's chair, "persuaded Mike. 

"No, " she answered, as she rose and went over to the seat of honor. "Don't praise me too much. I'm jist your mother, doin' the best I canfor you, though. "

And she sat down and leaned her head against the back of the chair. 

The sturdy figure of the boy began to move briskly about. He made up thefire and then he slipped out at the door and took an observation. Noshade anywhere but at the east end of the shanty, where the buildingitself threw a shade. He hurried in again. 

"Will you be gettin' up, mother dear, if you please?"

In surprise she stood up. The strong, young arms reached past her, lifted the chair, and then the boy began to pick his way carefully so asnot to strike this treasured possession against anything. 

"What are you doin', Moike?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan in astonishment. 

"I'm takin'--the chair--outside--where--there's a cool shade. 'Tis toohot--for you here where I'm cookin'. "

He turned and looked back as he stood in the doorway. "Come, motherdear, and rest you in the cool. "

"Moike! Moike!" cried the widow, touched by this attention. "'Tis whatyour father would have done if he was here. Always afraid he was, that Iwould be gettin' overtired or something. 'Tis sweet to have his b'y soloike him. "

Mike's heart gave a great throb. He knew now the taste of that praisethat kept Pat pushing ahead. "'Tis for Pat to lead--he's the oldest, " hethought over his cooking. "But see if I don't be lookin' out for motherafter this, and makin' it as easy for her as I can. I'd lug forty chairsten miles, so I would, to have her praise me like that. "

The next morning the widow rose still weary. The kitchen wasuncomfortably warm as a sleeping place now, but what could be done aboutit? Nothing. 

"It's all there is, and I won't be sayin' a word about it, so I won't, "she thought. "I'll jist tuck Larry in with Moike, and I guess I canstand it. "

Wash day for the home. She hardly felt equal to her task. 

Breakfast was over, but what was Mike doing? Not making his beds, norwashing his dishes. He had put on and filled the boiler. Now he wascarrying out wash bench and tubs to the west side of the shanty. Thewest was the shady side of a morning. In he came again--this time forthe father's chair. 

"'Tis an iligant breeze there is this mornin', " he cried. "Come out, mother, dear, and sit in father's chair. You've got a wash boy thismornin', so you have, and he'll need a lot of showin'. "

He reached for the washboard as he ceased, and smiled lovingly on hismother. 

"Moike! Moike!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan in a trembling tone, "'tis sweetto be took care of. I hain't been took care of since your father died. "

"Then 'tis time you was!" answered Mike. "And I'm the boy to do it, too. Come out, mother dear. "

And the mother went out. 

"But there's your housework, Moike. "

"That can wait, " was the positive reply. 

"But there's your schoolin'. "

"I'm not goin' to school to-day. I know my lessons. I learnt 'em lastnight. Will I be goin' to school and sittin' there all day, and you alltired out a-washin' for us? I won't that. "

"Moike, 'twas your father was dreadful headstrong when he set out to be. It's fearin' I am you're loike him there. "

But the happy light in her eyes was reflected on the face of her son ashe answered: "It's wantin' I am to be like him in everything, headstrongand all. I'm not goin' to school to-day. "

"And you needn't, Moike. I'll be ownin' to you now I didn't feel equalto the washin', and that's the truth. "

Mike nodded and went gayly into the house for warm water and theclothes. 

"There's more than one kind of a boy needed in a house, " he said tohimself. "With seven of us mother ought to have 'em of all kinds. I'mthe one to be aisin' her. I'm built for it. " And he rolled up his shirtsleeves over his strong, muscular young arms. 

"Now be careful, " began Mike's first lesson in washing, "and don't wastethe soap and your strength a-tryin' to get the dirt out of the placesthat ain't dirty. Rub where the rubbin's needed, and put the soap whereit's wanted. That's it. You're comin' on foine. " And the widow resumedher seat. 

For a few moments she sat silent in thought. Then she said: "Do you knowwhat's the matter with this town, Moike? All the b'ys in it that wantsto work at all wants to do somethin' aisy, loike drivin' a deliverywagon. Though the way they drive 'em ain't so aisy on the horses, nayther. There's a lesson for you, Moike. Them that's so aisy onthemsilves is the very wans to be hard on iverything and iverybody. Themthat's got snail's feet of their own can't get a horse to go fast enoughfor 'em, specially when the horse belongs to somebody else. And I'm jista-gettin' my courage up, Moike. I belave there'll be always somethingfor my b'ys to do, because my b'ys will _work_. And if they can'tget b'ys' work they'll do girls' work. Betwane you and me, Moike, I'mproud of Pat. Have you heard the news? When school closes he's to havetwo dollars a week, and three afternoons out all summer. And what do youthink Mrs. Brady says? She says she hain't had such help since she livedin the East. She says she's restin', and she feels ten years younger. That's your brother's work, Moike, --makin' a lady like Mrs. GineralBrady feel ten years younger. If there's aught to be ashamed of in that, sure 'twould take a ninny to find out what it is. I'll warrant themdelivery b'ys' horses ain't feelin' ten years younger, anyway. "

Mike's face showed that he relished his mother's talk; seeing which, shewent on: "You're doin' foine, Moike. Do you know there was a girl wanstset to washin', and she had it in her moind to do a good job, too. Thefirst thing she got hold of was a pillow case with lace on the ind ofit--wide lace. And what does she do but lather that clean lace with soapand put in her best licks on it, and all to no purpose at all only towear the lace to strings, and then, don't you think, she quite skippedthe body of the case where the head had been a-layin'. "

Mike laughed. 

That night as the widow and her boys sat outside the door in the cool, quick steps came down the track, crunching the slack and cinders thatfilled the spaces between the ties. It was Pat who was coming, and hisface was anxious. 

"What ails you, mother dear?" he cried lovingly. 

"Why, nothin', Pat, only I've got some sons that spoils me, so I have, a-makin' much of me. 'Tis a dreadful complaint, ain't it? But there'smothers as is not loike to die of it. " And she laughed half tearfully. She had been nearer breaking down that morning than she would admit, andher nerves were still a little unsteady. 

"Andy told me at recess Mike was stayin' home to wash, and I didn't knowwhat to think. I've been worryin' about it ever since, and the minute mywork was done I come a-flyin' to see. "

"You needn't worry no more, Pat. Sure, and I thought when the chancecome for you to go to Mrs. Gineral Brady 'twas because the Lord saw ourneed. And that was it, no doubt, but there's more to it, Pat. You wentthat I might foind out what koind of a b'y Moike is. You moind what Itold you about permotions, Pat? 'Twas your steppin' up that give Moikehis chance to show what he could do. And Moike was ready for it. Chancesdon't do nobody no good that ain't ready for 'em. Andy there isa-watchin', I know. "

The frail little fellow smiled. There was some light on the group, thrown from the electric light tower, but not enough to show thewistfulness of the boy's face, and the widow burned no oil in summer. Privately, Andy was afraid chances would not do him much good. 

"Why, " continued the widow, "even the little b'ys, Barney and Tommie, was a-watchin' the other day for chances. 'Twas them that wanted to betakin' the job of drivin' the cows from Andy and Jim, and leavin' theirgeese to do it, too. There's big b'ys, I'm thinkin', that's after cowswhen geese would be better suited to 'em. "

Barney and Tommie were drowsing, but Jim blushed. He knew that reproofwas meant for him. Mrs. O'Callaghan had been thinking about her fourthson to-day in the unaccustomed leisure given her by Mike. 

"How it is I don't know, " she mused, "but he do have a wonderful knackat rilin' up the little b'ys, and he'd iver be doin' somethin' he can'tdo at all. I'll be lookin' into Jim's case. There shan't wan of Tim'sb'ys be sp'iled if I can help it. "

"It's time you was goin', ain't it, Pat?" suggested Mike. 

At this breach of hospitality the widow was astounded. Mike to speaklike that!

For a second Pat seemed hurt. "I could have stayed half an hour longer, but I'll go, " he said, rising. 

"And I'll go with you a ways!" exclaimed Mike, jumping up very promptly. 

Pat's farewells were said and the two were off before Mrs. O'Callaghanhad recovered herself enough to remonstrate. 

"I wanted to be talkin' to you, Pat, and I didn't want mother to hear. That kitchen's too hot for her to sleep in, and that's the truth. "

"But there ain't no other place, " answered Pat anxiously. 

"No, " returned Mike triumphantly. "There ain't no other place for motherto sleep, but there is a place we could put the stove, and that'soutside. "

"What in?" inquired Pat gloomily. 

"What in? In nothin', of course. There's nothin' there. But couldn't westick in four poles and put old boards across so's the stove would becovered, and run the pipe out of a hole in the top?"

"We might, " returned Pat, "but you'll have to make up your mind to getwet a-cookin' more days than one. All the rains don't come straightdown. There's them that drives under. And you'd have to be carrying thethings in through the wet when you got 'em cooked, too. "

"And what of that?" asked Mike. "Do you think I care for that? What's megettin' wet to makin' mother comfortable? There's July and August comin'yet, and June only begun. "

Pat looked at his brother admiringly, though the semi-darkness did notpermit his expression to be seen. 

"We'll do it!" said he. "I'll help you dig the holes for the posts andall. We'll begin to-morrow evenin'. I know Mrs. Brady will let me comewhen my work's done. "

CHAPTER X

The next morning Pat went about with a preoccupied air. But all his workwas done with his accustomed dispatch and skill, nevertheless. 

"What is on my boy's mind?" thought Mrs. Brady. Yes, that is what shethought--"_my_ boy. "

And just then Pat looked into the sitting-room with his basket on hisarm. "I'll just be doin' the marketin' now, ma'am, " he said. 

"Very well, " smiled Mrs. Brady. "Here's a rose for your buttonhole. Youlook very trim this morning. "

Pat blushed with pleasure, and, advancing, took the flower. The poorIrish boy had instinctively dainty tastes, and the love of flowers wasone of them. But even before the blossom was made fast, the preoccupiedlook returned. 

"Mrs. Brady, ma'am, would you care if I stopped at the lumber yard whileI'm down town? I'd like to be gettin' some of their cheapest lumber senthome this afternoon. "

"Why, no, Pat. Stop, of course. "

Pat was encouraged. "I know I was out last night, " he said. "But could Ibe goin' again this evenin' after my work's done? Mike's got a job onhand that I want to help him at. "

"Yes, Pat. "

"You see, ma'am, " said the boy gratefully, "we're goin' to rig upsomething to put the cook-stove in so as mother will be cooler. It's toohot for her sleepin' in the kitchen. "

Mrs. Brady looked thoughtful. Then she said: "You are such a good, dutiful boy to me, Pat, that I think I must reconsider my permission. Lunch is prepared. You may go home as soon as you have finished yourmarketing and help Mike till it is time to get dinner. We will havesomething simple, so you need not be back until four this afternoon, andyou may go again this evening to finish what remains to be done. "

"Mrs. Brady, ma'am, " cried Pat from his heart, "you're next to theGeneral, that's what you are, and I thank you. "

Mrs. Brady smiled. She knew the boy's love for her husband, and sheunderstood that to stand next to the General in Pat's estimation was tobe elevated to a pinnacle. "Thank you, Pat, " she replied. Then she wenton snipping at the choice plants she kept in the house, even in summer, and Pat, proudly wearing his rose, hurried off. 

But when Pat arrived at home and hastened out behind the shanty, thepost-holes were dug. Mike had risen at three o'clock that morning, dugeach one and covered it with a bit of board before his mother was up. 

"And have you come to say you can't come this evenin'?" asked Mike, asPat advanced to where he was sorting over such old scraps of boards ashe had been permitted to pick up and carry home. 

"I've come to get to work this minute, " replied Pat, throwing off hisblouse and hanging it on the sill of the open window, with the roseuppermost. 

"Where'd you get that rose?" inquired Mike, bending to inhale itsfragrance. 

"Mrs. Brady give it to me. "

"Mother would think it was pretty, " with a glance at his older brother. 

"And she shall have it, " said Pat. "But them boards won't do. I'vebought some cheap ones at the lumber yard, and they're on the way. Andhere's the nails. We'll get that stove out this day, I'm thinkin'. Icouldn't sleep in my bed last night for thinkin' of mother roastin' byit. "

"Nor I, neither, " said Mike. 

"Well, let's get to diggin' the holes. "

"They're dug. "

"When did you dig 'em?"

"Before day. "

"Does mother know?"

"Never a word. "

Pat went from corner to corner and peered critically down into eachhole. 

"You're the boy, Mike, and that's a fact, " was his approving sentence. 

Just then the boards came and were thrown off with a great clatter. Mrs. O'Callaghan hurried to the door. "Now, b'ys, what's the meanin' ofthis?" she questioned when the man had gone. 

"Have my rose, mother dear, " said Pat. 

"And it's a pretty rose, so it is, " responded Mrs. O'Callaghan, receiving it graciously. "But it don't answer my question. What'll yoube doin' with them boords?"

"Now, mother, it's Mike's plan, but I'm into it, too, and we want tosurprise you. Can't you trust us?"

"I can, " was the answer. "Go on with your surprise. " And she went backinto the shanty. 

Then the boys set to work in earnest. Four scantlings had come with theboards, and were speedily planted firmly. 

[Illustration: Pat and Mike building the kitchen. ]

"We don't need no saw, for the boards are of the right length, so theyare. A man at the yard sawed 'em for me. He said he could as well asnot. Folks are mighty good to us, Mike; have you noticed?"

"The right sort are good to us, of course. Them Jim Barrows boys areanything but good. They sets on all of us as much as they dares. "

By three o'clock the roof was on, and the rough scraps Mike hadcollected were patched into a sort of protection for a part of the eastside of the new kitchen. 

"Now let's be after the stove!" cried Mike. 

In they went, very important. 

"Mother, dear, we'd like to be takin' down your stove, if you'll letus, " said Pat. 

The widow smiled. "I lets you, " she answered. 

Down came the stovepipe to be carried out. Then the lids and the doorswere taken off to make the heavy load lighter. And then under went thetruck that Andy had run to borrow, and the stove was out. 

Mrs. O'Callaghan carefully refrained from looking at them, but cheerfulsounds came in through doors and windows as the big boys worked and thelittle ones crowded close with eager enjoyment of the unusual happening. Presently there came tones of dismay. 

"Pat, " said Mike, "there's no hole to run the pipe through. What'll wedo?"

"We'll have to be cuttin' one, and with a jackknife, too, for we'venothin' else. But I'll have to be goin' now. I was to be back by four, you know. "

"Then we'll call the mother out and show her the surprise now, " saidMike. "I'll make short work of cuttin' that hole after you're gone. "

"Will you be steppin' out, mother dear?" invited Mike gallantly. 

"You'll not be roastin' by the stove no more this summer, " observed Pat. 

The widow came out. She looked at the rough roof supported by the fourscantlings, and then at her boys. 

"Sure, 'tis a nice, airy kitchen, so it is, " she said. "And as for thesurprise, 'tis jist the koind of a wan your father was always thinkin'up. As you say, I'll not be roastin' no more. But it's awful warm you'vemade my heart, b'ys. It's a warm heart that's good to have summer andwinter. " And then she broke down. "Niver do you moind me, b'ys, " shewent on after a moment. "'Tis this sort of tears that makes a mother'sloife long, so 'tis. "

"Well, Mrs. Brady, ma'am, we're done, " reported Pat at a few minutesbefore four. "Mike, he'd got up and dug all the holes before day, and itdidn't take us so long. "

"And is the stove out?" inquired Mrs. Brady kindly. 

"It is, ma'am. Mike will be cookin' out there this evenin'. Mike'sgettin' to be the cook, ma'am. I show him all I learn here, and he soonhas it better than I have myself. "

Mrs. Brady smiled. How Mike could do better than Pat she did not see, but she could see the brotherly spirit that made Pat believe it. 

"Perhaps you had better go over again this evening, " she said, "just tosee if the stove draws well in the new kitchen. "

"Do you mean it, ma'am?" asked the boy eagerly. 

"Yes. "

"Thank you, kindly. I'd like to go, but I wasn't goin' to ask. My mothersays askin's a bad habit. Them that has it is apt to ask more thanthey'd ought to many times. "

Meanwhile, up on the roof of the new kitchen in the hot afternoon sunsat Mike with his knife. He had marked out the size of the pipe-holewith a pencil, and with set lips was putting all the force of hisstrong, young arms into the work. A big straw hat was on his head--acommon straw, worth about fifteen cents. Clustered below were the littleboys. 

"No, you can't come up, " Mike had just said in answer to theirentreaties. "The roof won't bear you. "

"'Twould bear me, and I could help you cut the hole, " said Jim. 

"There goes Jim again, " soliloquized the widow. "Wantin' to cut a roundhole in a boord with a knife, when 'tis only himself he'd be cuttin', and not the boord at all. It's not so much that he's iver for doin' whathe can't, but he's awful set against doin' what he can. Jim, come here!"she called. 

Jim obeyed. 

"You see how loike your father Pat and Moike and Andy is, some wan wayand some another. Do you want to be loike him, too?"

[Illustration: "Up on the roof sat Mike with his knife. "]

Jim owned that he did. 

"Well, then, remimber your father would niver have been for climbin' tothe roof of the new kitchen and cuttin' a round hole in a boord with aknife so as to run the pipe through when he was your soize. But he wouldhave been for huntin' up some dry kindlin' to start the fire for supper. So, now, there's your job, Jim, and do it good. Don't come back with askimpin' bit that won't start the coal at all. "

With lagging steps Jim set off to the patch of hazel brush north of theshanty to pick up such dry twigs as he could. His mother gazed afterhim. 

"Tim left me a fortune when he left me my b'ys, all but Jim, " she said, "and see if I don't make something out of him, too. Pat and Moike andAndy--showin' that you sense what they're doin' is enough for 'em. Jistthat will kape 'em goin' foine. But Jim, he'll take leadin' with praiseand shovin' with blame, and he'll get both of 'em from me, so he will. For sure, he's Tim's b'y, too, and will I be leavin' him to spoil forwant of a harsh word now and then? I won't that. There's them in thisworld that needs settin' up and there's them that needs takin' down apeg. And wanst in a while you see wan that needs both of 'em, and that'sJim, so 'tis. Well, I know it in toime, that's wan thing. "

Jim made such slow progress that the hole was cut, the pipe run through, and Mike was beginning to look about for his own kindling when he madehis appearance. 

"Well, Jim, " said his mother, taking him aside, "there's something thematter with your feet, I'm thinkin', you've been gone so long. You wasall but missin' the chance of seein' the first fire started in the newkitchen. There's something to remimber--seein' a sight loike that--andthen you have it to think about that it was yoursilf that provided thekindlin' for it. All this you was on the p'int of losin' through bein'slow on your feet. Your father was the spriest koind of a b'y, I'm told. Only show him an errand, and he was off on it. Get some spryness intoyour feet if you want to be like your father, and run, now, to see Moikeloight the fire. And don't be reachin' to take the match out of hishand, nayther. Your toime of fire buildin' will come. "

Away went Jim. He was certainly spry enough now. Mike was just settingthe blazing match to the kindling when he reached the group around thestove. At the front stood the little boys, and in a twinkling Jim hadpushed them one this way, one that, in order to stand directly in frontof the stove himself. 

"There he goes again, " sighed the widow. "'Tis a many pegs Jim will haveto be took down, I'm thinkin'. "

CHAPTER XI

It was the last day of August that Pat went walking down to do hismarketing with a jubilant air. Next week school was to begin, and withthe beginning of the term he had expected to go back to his old wages ofa dollar a week. But that morning Mrs. Brady had told him that he wasstill to have two dollars. 

"And me goin' to school?" asked the boy in surprise. 

"Yes, Pat. You have come to be very skillful about the house and you areworth it. "

"I wasn't thinkin' about gettin' skillful, ma'am, so as to have my wagesraised, " was the earnest answer. "I was just thinkin' how to please youand doin' my best. "

Mrs. Brady was touched. "You have pleased me, Pat, and you have pleasedMr. Brady, too. We both take a great interest in you. "

"Do you, ma'am? Then that's better than havin' my wages raised, thoughit's glad of the raise I am, too, and thank you for it. 'Twill be greatnews to be takin' home the next time I go. "

But Pat was to take home greater news than that, though he did not knowit as he went along with all the light-heartedness of his race. Thesight of the tall, slender boy with his basket on his arm had grownfamiliar in the streets of Wennott. He was never left waiting in thestores now, and nothing but the best was ever offered him. Not only didthe grocers know him, but the butchers, the poulterers, and even the drygoods merchants. For he often matched silks and wools for Mrs. Brady, and he had been known to buy towels of the common sort. A group ofloafers shrugged their shoulders as he passed them this morning, andfell to repeating anecdotes of his shrewdness when certain dealers hadtried to sell him poor goods at market prices. 

"There's nobody in this town ever got ahead of him yet on a deal, " saidone. "He's so awful honest. "

"Bein' square himself, he won't take nothin' but squareness from nobody, and while he's lookin' out for his own chances he looks out for theother fellow's, too. Times and times he's handed back nickels and dimeswhen change wasn't made straight, " contributed a second. 

"There's two or three store men in town got their eye on him. They don'tlike to say nothin', seem' he's cookin' at General Brady's, but if heever leaves there, he'll have pick and choice. Yes, sir, pick andchoice, " concluded a third. 

At that very moment a dry goods merchant of the west side of the squarewas in the bank talking to General Brady. "I might as well speak, " Mr. Farnham had thought. "If I don't get him, somebody else will. " What theloafers had said was true. 

"General, " began Mr. Farnham, after the two had exchanged greetings, "Idislike to interfere with your family arrangements, but I should like tohave Pat in the store this fall. I'll give him fifteen dollars a month. "

The General smiled. "Fifteen dollars is cheap for Pat, Mr. Farnham. He'sno ordinary boy. "

"But that's the regular price paid here for beginners, " responded Mr. Farnham. "And he'll have a great deal to learn. "

"Have you spoken to him yet?"

"No, I thought I would speak to you first. "

"Well, Mr. Farnham, Mrs. Brady and I some time ago decided that, much aswe should like to keep Pat with us, we would not stand in his way whenhis chance came, I think this is his chance. And I don't doubt he'llcome to you. "

After a little further talk between the two General Brady said: "Thereis another matter I wish to mention. Mrs. O'Callaghan has set her hearton having Pat graduate from the public school. He could do so easily inanother year, but with his strong mercantile bent, and taking intoconsideration the struggle his mother is obliged to make to keep himthere, I don't think it best. For, while Pat supports himself, he can donothing to help at home. I ask you to give him one evening out a week, Mr. Farnham, and I will direct his reading on that evening. If I canbring him up and keep him abreast of the times, and prevent him fromgetting into mischief, he'll do. "

"I shouldn't think he could accomplish much with one evening a week, General, " objected Mr. Farnham, who did not wish to give Pat a regularevening out. An occasional evening was enough, he thought. 

"Oh, yes, he can, " insisted the General. "The most of his reading hewill do at odd minutes, and that evening will be chiefly a resume anddiscussion of what he has gone over during the week. "

"You must take a strong interest in the boy, General. "

"I do. I don't mind telling you privately, Mr. Farnham, that I mean topush him. Not by charity, which, to the best of my belief, not anO'Callaghan would take, but by giving him every opportunity in my powerto advance for himself. "

"In other words, you mean to protect the boy's interests, General?"

"I do. As I said before, fifteen dollars a month is cheap for Pat. Isuppose he is to have, in addition, his one evening a week?"

"Yes, " agreed Mr. Farnham, reluctantly. 

"Thank you, " said the General, courteously. 

General Brady had intended to keep his news from Pat until the nextmorning, but it would not keep. As the boy, with his spotless apron on, brought in the dinner and stood ready to wait at table, the old soldierfound the words crowding to the tip end of his tongue. His keen eyesshone, and he regarded with a most kindly gaze the lad who, to make lifea little easier for his mother, had faced jeers and contempt and hadturned himself into a girl--a kitchen girl. It was not with his usualsmoothness, but quite abruptly, that he began: "Pat, you are to leaveus, it seems. "

Pat so far forgot his manners as to stop and stare blankly at hisemployer. 

"Yes, Pat. You are going into Mr. Farnham's store this fall at fifteendollars a month. "

If anything could have more endeared him to the General and his wife itwas the way in which Pat received this, to him, important communication. He looked from one to the other and back again, his face radiant withdelight. The born trader was to have an opportunity to trade. 

And then his expression sobered. "But what will Mrs. Brady be doin'without me?" he cried. "Sure she's used to me now, and she's not strong, either. "

"Perhaps Mike would come, " suggested Mrs. Brady. 

"He'll be glad to do it, ma'am!" exclaimed Pat, his joy returning. "'Tishimself that thinks its first the General and then you, just as I do. "

"I hope you may always think so, " said Mrs. Brady, smiling. 

"Sure and I will. How could I be thinkin' anything else?"

And then the meal went on. 

That evening, by permission, Pat went home. He sang, he whistled, healmost danced down the track. 

"And it's Pat as is the happy b'y this evenin', " said Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Listen to him singin' and whistlin', first wan and then the other. Gineral Brady's is the place for any one. "

The family were sitting in the kitchen, for the evening was a triflecool. But the windows were open and there was a lamp burning. 

"He's got some good news, I guess, " remarked quiet Andy. 

The mother gave him a quick glance. "Andy, " she said, "you're the b'y asis different from all the rest, and a comfort you are, too. 'Tisn'tivery family has a b'y as can hear good news when it's comin'. "

And then Pat came in. His eyes were ablaze, and his wide mouth wore itsmost joyous smile. He looked round upon them all for one second, andthen, in a ringing voice, he cried: "Mother! Oh, mother, it's to Mr. Farnham's store I'm to go, and I'm to have fifteen dollars a month, andthe General is going to help me with my books, and Mrs. Brady wants Miketo go to her!"

It was all out in a breath, and it was such a tremendous piece of newsthat it left them all gasping but Larry, who understood not a thing butthat Pat had come, and who stood waiting to be noticed by the bigbrother. For a full moment there was neither speech nor motion. Then thewidow looked slowly round upon her sons. Her heart was full of gratitudeto the Bradys, of pride in Pat, of exultation over his good fortune, and, at the same time, her eyes were brimming with tears. 

"B'ys, " she said at last, "I wasn't looking for permotions quite so soonagain. But I belave that where they've come wanst, they're loikely to becomin' again, if them that's permoted lives up to their chances. Who'sbeen permoted in Mr. Farnham's store, I can't say. But sure Pat, hesteps up, and Moike steps into the good place Pat has stepped out of, and gives Andy his chance here at home. There's them that says there'sno chances for anybody any more, but the world's full of chances. It'snothin' but chances, so 'tis. Sure a body don't want to be jerked fromwan thing to another so quick their head spins, and so chances comealong pretty middlin' slow. But the world's full of 'em. Let Andy wanstget larned here at home, and you'll be seein' what he'll do. Andy's notso strong as some, and he'll need help. I'm thinkin' I'll make a teamout of him and Jim. "

"I don't want to be helpin'. I want to be doin' mesilf, " objected Jim. 

"And what will you be doin'?" asked the widow. "You're full short forspreadin' bedclothes, for though nine years makes a b'y plinty bigenough for some things, it laves him a bit small for others. You can'tbe cookin' yet, nor sweepin', nor even loightin' fires. But you shall bedoin', since doin's what you want. You shall wipe the dishes, and setthe table, and do the dustin', and get the kindlin', and sure you'll betired enough when you've all that done to make you glad you're no olderand no bigger. Your father, when he was noine, would have thought that aplinty for him, and so it's a plinty for you, as you'll foind. You'requite young to be permoted that high, " went on his mother, seeing adiscontented expression on the little fellow's face. "Only for the bigb'ys gettin' ahead so fast, you wouldn't have no chance at all, andfolks wouldn't think you much bigger than Barney there, so theywouldn't. B'ys of nine that gets any sort of permotion is doin' foine, let me tell you. And now's your chance to show Moike that you can kapethe dishes shinin', and niver a speck of dust on anything as well as hecould himsilf. "

Jim straightened himself, and Mike smiled encouragingly upon him. "Youcan do it, Jim, " he said with a nod. 

And Jim decided then and there that he would do it. 

"I'll be lookin' round when I come to visit you all from Mrs. Brady's, and I expect to be proud of Jim, " added Mike. 

And Jim increased his determination. He wanted to have Mike proud ofhim. Very likely Mike would not be proud of the little boys. There wasnothing about them to be proud of. "He shall be proud of me, " thoughtJim, and an important look stole over his face. "He'll be tellin' me I'mthe b'y, I shouldn't wonder. "

And now the widow's mind went swiftly back to the General. "Sure, andit's a wonderful man he is, " she cried. "Your father was jist such aman, barrin' he was Irish and no Gineral at all. 'Twas him that was atthe bottom of your gettin' the place to Mr. Farnham's, a-trustin' you todo all the buyin' so's folks could see what was in you. It's sorry I amabout the graduation, but the Gineral knows best, so he does. "

[Illustration: "Barney and Tommie a-takin' care of the geese. "]

Then her thought turned to the finances of the family. "And how much issixteen and fifteen?" she asked. "Sure, and it's thirty-wan. Thirty-wandollars a month for us this winter, and Moike takin' care of himself, tosay nothin' of what Moike has earned with the lawn mower. 'Blessin's onthe man that invented it, ' says I, 'and put folks in the notion ofhavin' their lawns kept neat, 'cause they could do it cheap. ' Andthere's what Andy and Jim has made a-drivin' the cows, and Barney andTommie a-takin' care of the geese. Wennott's the town for them as canwork. And bad luck to lazy bones anyway. It's thankful I am I've gotnone of 'em in my family. "

She paused a moment in reflection. 

"Them geese now is foine. Do you think, Pat, the Gineral and Mrs. Bradywould enjoy eatin' wan of 'em when it's a bit cooler? You knows whatthey loikes by this time. "

"I think they would, mother. "

"Then it's the best of the lot they shall have. Bad luck to them that'salways a-takin' and niver wantin' to be givin' back. "

CHAPTER XII

The fall term opened and found Mike the head of the O'Callaghan tribe, as the brothers had been jeeringly called by the Jim Barrows set. AndMike was a good head. The sort of boy to impress others with the goodsense of minding their own business. His blue eyes had a determinedlook, as he came on the campus the first morning of the new term, thatmade his old persecutors think it best to withhold such choice epithetsas "Biddy, " "Kitchen Girl, " and "Scrub Maid, " which they had laid up forhim. For they knew that it was Mike who now did housework at GeneralBrady's. They had never seen Mike fight. He had always stood back andlet Pat lead. But there was something in his erect and independentbearing on this autumn morning that made it very evident to the schoolbullies that if Mike did not fight it was not because he could not. 

"Them O'Callaghans think they're some since General Brady picked 'emup, " commented Jim Barrows, safely out of Mike's hearing. 

"General Brady had never heard of them when Pat gave you a licking, Jim, or don't you remember?" asked Bob Farnham, who was passing. 

"Say, Jim, " advised a crony, as the two sauntered off together, "we'dbetter let them O'Callaghans alone. I don't like the looks of that Mike. 'Twasn't any wonder that Pat licked you, for you're not much on thefight anyway. But I tell you, I wouldn't like to tackle that Mikemyself. He's one of them pleasant kind that's a regular tiger when youstir him up. "

"He's been runnin' lawn mowers all summer, " observed Jim reflectively. "I reckon he's got his muscle up. Don't know but we had best leave himalone. "

"Let me tell you, Jim, 'twon't do just to let him alone. We've got tolet 'em all alone--Andy and Jim and Barney and Tommie--or he'll lightinto us same as Pat did into you. "

"Why can't a fellow do just his own fightin', " grumbled Jim Barrows, "and let the kids look out for themselves?"

"Some of 'em can, but the O'Callaghans ain't that kind. Touch one, touch'em all, as you'd ought to know, Jim. "

"Oh, shut up! You needn't be throwin' up that lickin' to me everyminute. I was surprised, I tell you. Astonished, as I might say. Iwasn't lookin' to be pitched into by a low down Irish boy. "

"Oh, wasn't you?" queried his friend ironically. "Well, you keep ona-hectorin', and you'll be surprised again, or astonished, as you mightsay. That's all. "

Jim Barrows had not looked into Mike'seye for nothing. He knew for himself thetruth of all his companion had been saying, and from that hour the little boys hadpeace. 

That same Monday was the most exciting and important day of his life toPat. He saw other clerks lagging along without interest, and he wonderedat them. Hitherto, in all transactions, he had been a buyer. Now he wasto sell. 

Farnham's store was on the west side of the square--a fair-sizedroom--but rather dark, and not the best place in the world to displaygoods. It was not even the best place in Wennott, the storerooms of bothWall and Arnold being newer and better fitted. But displaying goods wasnot Pat's affair that morning. It was his part to display a clean floorand well-dusted shelves and counters to the first customer. 

Mr. Farnham came in at the hour when he had usually found his other boythrough with the sweeping and dusting, and Pat was still using thebroom. His employer, seeing the skillful strokes of the broom, wondered. But he was soon enlightened. Pat was not giving the middle of the floora brush out. He was sweeping thoroughly into every corner where a broomcould find entrance. For Pat knew nothing of "brush outs, " though heknew all about clean floors. Every little while he stopped, swept up hiscollection into the dust-pan and carried it to a waste box in the backof the store. Mr. Farnham watched his movements. "He's business, " hecommented to himself. "Neither hurry nor lag. "

At last Pat was through. One of the clerks came in, and she stared tosee the shelves still wearing their dust curtains. But Pat wasunconcerned. He had never opened a store before, nor seen one opened. Hehad been told to sweep out and dust, and he was obeying orders. That wasall he was thinking about. 

The sweeping done, Pat waited for the little dust that was flying tosettle. Then he walked to the front end of the store and began to unhookthe dust curtains. Very gingerly he took hold of them, being careful todisturb them as little as possible. Mr. Farnham and the girl clerkwatched him. Every other boy had jerked them down and chucked them underthe counter in a jiffy. Out went Pat with them to the rear door, gavethem a vigorous shaking, brought them back, folded them quickly andneatly, and then, turning to Mr. Farnham said, "Where will you have 'em, sir?"

In silence Mr. Farnham pointed out a place, and then handed him afeather duster, showing him, at the same time, how to fleck the dust offthe edges of the bolts of goods along the shelves, and also off thecounter. 

"This thing's no good for the glass show cases, sir. I'd ought to have asoft cloth. Something to take the dust up with, sir. "

The merchant turned to the girl clerk. "Cut him off a square ofcheesecloth, Miss Emlin, please, " he said. 

[Illustration: "The merchant turned to the girl clerk. "]

"Ordinary boy!" exclaimed Mr. Farnham to himself and thinking of theGeneral. "I should say he wasn't. But cleaning up a store and sellinggoods are two different things. "

It was a very small place that was given to Pat in the store thatday--just the calicoes, ginghams, and muslins. And Pat was dissatisfied. 

"'Tisn't much of a chance I've got, " he murmured to himself. "Gingham--that's for aprons, and calico--that's for dresses, andmuslin--that's for a lot of things. Maybe I'll sell something. But itlooks as if I'd be doin' nothin', that's what it does. "

He thought of the home folks and how his mother's mind would be everupon him during this his first important day. "Maybe I'm a bit likelittle Jim--wantin' to do what I can't do. Maybe geese are my size, " andhe smiled. "Well, then I'll tend to my geese and tend 'em good, so Iwill. "

He began emptying his calico tables upon the counter. Mr. Farnham sawhim from the desk, and walked that way at once. "What's the matter, Pat?" he inquired. 

"Sure I'm just gettin' acquainted with the goods, sir. I was thinkin' Icould sell better, if I knew what I'd got. I'll put 'em back, sir, whenI've looked 'em over. "

And entirely satisfied with his newest clerk, though Pat did not suspectit, Mr. Farnham returned to his writing. 

Pat had often noticed and admired the way in which the dry goods clerksran off a length of goods, gathered it in folds, and held it up beforethe customer. 

"If I thought nobody was lookin', I'd try it, so I would, " he said tohimself. 

He glanced around. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention. Pat triedit, and a funny affair he made of it. Mr. Farnham, who was onlyapparently busy, had to exert all his will power to keep back a smile. For Pat, with the fear of observers before his eyes, unrolled the webwith a softness that was almost sneaking; he held up the length with atrembling hand and a reddening cheek; and, putting his head on one side, regarded his imaginary customer with a shamefaced air that was mostamusing. 

Pat seemed to feel that he had made himself ridiculous. He sighed. "There's too much style to it for me yet, " he said. "I'll just have tosell 'em plain goods without any flourishes. But I'll do it yet, so Iwill, only I'll practice it at home. "

"And what did you be sellin' to-day, Pat dear?" asked his mother when athalf-past nine he entered the kitchen door. She would not ask him atsupper time. She wished to hear the sum total of the day's sales atonce, and she had prepared her mind for a long list of articles. 

"Well, mother, " answered Pat drawing a long breath, "I sold two yardsand a half of gingham. "

The widow nodded. But Pat did not go on. 

"And what else, Pat dear?"

"Nothin' else, mother. "

Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished. 

[Illustration: "Mrs. O'Callaghan looked astonished. "]

"That's little to be sellin' in a whole day, " she observed. "Didn't yousell no silks and velvets and laces?"

"I'm not to sell them, mother. "

"And why not?" with a mystified air. 

"Sure and I don't know. I've just the calicoes and the ginghams and themuslins. "

"Ah!" breathed the widow. And she sat silent in thought a while. Thesmall lamp on the pine table burned brightly, and it lit up Pat's faceso that with every glance his mother cast at him she read there thediscouragement he felt. 

"Pat dear, " she began presently, "there's beginnin's in all things. Andthe beginnin's is either at the bottom or at wan ind, depindin' whichway you're to go. Roads has their beginnin's at wan ind and runs on, round corners, maybe, to the other ind. Permotions begin at the bottom. You moind I was tellin' you 'twas loikely there was permotions instores?"

Pat gazed at his mother eagerly. "Do you think so, mother?"

"I think so. Else why should they put the last hand in to sweepin' outand sellin' naught but ginghams and calicoes and muslins? And will yoube tellin' me what the b'y that swept out before you is sellin'?"continued the little woman, anxious to prove the truth of her opinion. 

"Sure and he ain't sellin' nothin', " responded the son. "He ain'tthere. "

"And why not?" interrogated Mrs. O'Callaghan. 

"I'm told he didn't do his work good. "

Mrs. O'Callaghan looked grave. "Well, " she said, "there's a lesson forthem that needs it. There's gettin' out of stores as well as gettin' in, so there is. And now, Pat, cheer up. 'Tis loikely sellin' things is abusiness that's got to be larned the same as any other. "

"Well, but, mother, I know every piece I've got, and the price of it. "

"Can you measure 'em off handy and careless loike, so that a bodywonders if you ain't makin' a mistake, and measures 'em over after youwhen they gets home, and then foinds it's all roight and trusts you thenixt toime?"

Pat was obliged to admit that he could not. 

"And can you tie up a bundle quick and slick and make it look neat?"

Again Pat had to acknowledge his deficiency. 

His mother regarded him with an air of triumph. "I knowed I could put myfinger on the trouble if I thought about it. You've got it in you tosell, else Mr. Farnham wouldn't have asked for you. But he wants you forwhat you can do after a while more than for what you can do now. Remimber your beds and your cookin', Pat, and don't be bakin' beans byyour own receipt down there to the store. It's a foine chance you'vegot, so 'tis. Maybe you'll be sellin' more to-morrow. And another thing, do you belave you've got jist as good calicoes and ginghams and muslinsto sell as there is in town?"

"Yes, mother, I know I have. "

"Then you've got to make the ladies belave it, too. And it won't be sucha hard job, nayther, if you do your best. If they don't like wan thing, show 'em another. There's them among 'em as is hard to plaze, andremimber you don't know much about the ladies anyhow, havin' had to doonly with your mother and Mrs. Gineral Brady. And there's differentsorts of ladies, too, so there is, as you'll foind. It's a smart man ascan plaze the half of 'em, but you'll come to it in time, if you try. Your father had a great knack at plazin' people, so he had, Pat. Forfolks mostly loikes them that will take pains for 'em; and your fatherwas always obligin'. And you are, too, Pat, but kape on at it. Folksain't a-goin' to buy nothin', if they can help it, from a clerk thatain't obligin'. Sellin' goods is pretty much loike doin' housework, you'll foind, only it's different. "

CHAPTER XIII

"Pat, " said his mother the next morning at breakfast, "what's that bookyou used to be studyin' that larns you to talk roight?"

"Grammar, mother. "

"Well, then, your studyin' has done you small good, for you talk prettymuch the way I do mysilf, and niver a bit of that book did I be larnin'in my loife. It don't make a bit of difference what you know, if youdon't go and _do_ what you know. But you're not too old to beginover again, Pat, and practice talkin' roight. Roight talkin' will helpyou in the store. You've got in, and that's only half of it, for you'llnot stay in if you don't do your best. And that's why helpin' a bodydon't do so much good after all. "

Pat blushed, and the widow felt a little compassion. She threw increasedconfidence into her tone as she went on. "Not as anybody thinks youwon't stay, Pat, for, of course, you'll do your best. But about yourtalkin'--you'll need somebody to watch you close, and somebody thatloves you well enough to tell you your mistakes koindly, and Andy's theb'y to do it. He's the wan among you all that talks roight, for he loveshis book, do you moind. "

And now it was Andy's turn to blush, while the widow smiled upon him. "Ihear a many of them grammar folks talk, " she said, "and it's mysilf thatsees you talk jist loike 'em, barrin' the toimes when you don't. Andthem's not so many, nayther. "

At this little Jim scowled scornfully, but of him his mother took nonotice as she looked around with pride upon her sons. 

"And it's proud I am to be havin' all sorts of b'ys in my family, barrin' bad wans, " she continued. "I'll jist be tryin' to larn a littlebetter ways of talkin' mysilf, so I will, not as I think there's muchchance for me, and, as there's no good of waitin' till you get as old asPat, Jim, you'll be takin' heed to Andy's talkin'. Andy's the talker aswould have plazed his father, for his father loiked everything doneroight, so he did. "

It was pleasant to see Andy's sensitive face glow with delight at beingthus publicly commended by that potentate of the family, his mother. Mrs. O'Callaghan saw it. "And did you think I wasn't noticin' because Ididn't say nothin'?" she asked him. 

Then turning to the rest, "B'ys, you mostly niver knows what folks isa-noticin' by what they says--that is, to your face--but you sometoimesfoinds out by hearin' what they've been sayin' behoind your back. And, by the same token, it's mostly bad they says behoind your back. "

"I don't want to be larnin' from Andy, " interrupted Jim. "He's but twoyears older than me anyway. "

The widow eyed him severely. "Well, Jim, is it bigger and older than Patyou are? Pat's goin' to larn from Andy. And is it older than your motheryou are, that's forty years old? Sure I'm goin' to larn from Andy. "

But Jim still appeared rebellious. 

"Some of these days little Barney and Tommie and Larry will be set tolarn from you. Take care they're not set to larn what not to do fromlookin' at you. 'Tis Andy that's got the gift ne'er a wan of us has, andhe'll show us how to profit by it, if we has sinse. It's thinkin' I amyour father, if he was here, would not have been above touchin' up hisown talkin' a bit under Andy's teachin'. Your father was for larnin' allhe could, no matter who from, old or young. "

Now the widow might have talked long to Jim without affecting him much, but for one thing. She had said that Andy had a gift that all the restlacked. He resolved from that moment that he would talk better than Andyyet, or know why. 

A pretty big resolve for so young a boy, but Jim could not endure toyield the supremacy to Andy in anything. Pat and Mike he was content tolook up to, but Andy was too near his own age, and too small and frailto challenge Jim's respect. 

That morning Jim said little, but his ears were open. Every sentencethat Andy spoke was carefully listened to, but the little fellow went toschool not much enlightened. He could see the difference between hisspeech and Andy's, but he could not see what made the difference. Andask Andy he wouldn't. 

"I'll be askin' the teacher, so I will, " he thought. 

That morning at recess, a small, red-headed, belligerent-looking boy, with a pair of mischievous blue eyes, went up to Miss Slocum's desk. Butthe eyes were not mischievous now. They were very earnest as they gazedup into his teacher's face. 

"Plaze, ma'am, will you be sayin': I'll be larnin' it yet, so I will?"

Miss Slocum was surprised. "What did you say, Jim?" she asked. 

"Plaze, ma'am, will you say: I'll be larnin' it yet, so I will?"

Miss Slocum smiled, and obligingly repeated, "I'll be larnin' it yet, soI will. "

"No, " said Jim. "That's the way I said it. Say it right. "

"Say it right!" exclaimed Miss Slocum. 

"Yes, say it like the grammar book. "

"Oh, " said Miss Slocum wonderingly. "I _will_ learn it yet. Is thatwhat you wanted?"

"Yes, ma'am. Will you be tellin' me some more when I want to know it?"

"Certainly, " responded the gratified teacher, whereat Jim went awaysatisfied. He smiled to himself knowingly, as he caught sight of Andy ata distance on the campus. "I'll not be askin' him nayther, " he said. "I_will_ learn it yet. "

As for Pat, he went to the store that same morning a trifledisconsolate. He was fond of trade, but he knew almost nothing of drygoods; and here was his mother counseling him to improve his speech, andholding up to him the warning that his own inefficiency might lose himhis place. 

"Well, I know how to sweep and dust, anyway, " he thought as he unlockedthe store door, went in and took up his broom. As thoroughly as beforehe went over everything, but much more quickly, not having theaccumulated shiftlessness of former boys to contend with. And Mr. Farnham, on his arrival, found everything spotless. 

Customers at Pat's department that day found a very silent clerk, butone eager to oblige. Many times before he went home for the night did hedisplay every piece of goods in his charge, and that with such anevident wish to please, that his sales were considerable. And the widowheard his report at bedtime with something like satisfaction. 

"And what did you say to make 'em buy?" she inquired. 

"Well, mother, I mostly didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say, and I couldn't say it right, neither, and so I just watched, and if theyso much as turned their eyes on a piece, I got it out of the pile andshowed it to 'em. I just wished with all my might to sell to 'em, and Isold to 'em. "

His mother's eyes were fixed on him, and she nodded her headapprovingly. "Sure and if you couldn't do no better, that was goodenough, so 'twas, " was her comment. "You'll larn. But didn't nobody saynothin' to you?"

"They did, mother, of course. "

"And who was they that spoke to you and what about?"

"Well, mother, there was old Mrs. Barter, for one. She's awful stingy. I've seen her more than once in the groceries. Always a-wantin'everything a little lower, and grumblin' because the quality wasn'tgood. Them grocers' clerks mostly hates her, I believe. And they don'twant to wait on her, none of 'em. 'Twas her, I'm told, washed up two orthree of them wooden butter dishes and took 'em up and wanted to sell'em back to them she got her butter from. "

"Ah!" said Mrs. O'Callaghan, with her eyes sympathetically upon her son. 

"And she was to buy of you to-day, was she?"

"Yes, mother. "

"And did she buy anything?"

"She did. "

"What was it?"

"A calico dress. "

"And how come she to do it?"

"I don't know. She begun by lookin' everything over and runnin'everything down. And at last she took hold of a piece, and says she, 'Come, young man, I've seen you a-buyin' more than once. Can you tell methis is a good piece that won't fade?' 'I can, ma'am, ' says I. 'Youwon't find no better in town. '

"'Ah! but you're sellin', ' says she. 'Would you tell your mother thesame?' And she looked at me sharp. 

"'I would, ma'am, ' says I. 

"'Then I'll take it, ' says she. 'I've not watched you for nothin'. '"

"And then what?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan eagerly. This, in her opinion, was a triumph for Pat. 

"Why, nothin', mother, only I wrapped it up and give it to her, and Isays, Come again, ma'am, ' and she says, 'I will, young man, you maydepend. '"

The little woman regarded him proudly. But all she said was: "Whenyou're doin' well, Pat, the thing is to see if you can't do better. Youhad others a-buyin' of you to-day, I hope?"

"Yes, mother. "

"'Tis too late to hear about it to-night, for 'tis good sleep thatsharpens the wits. And the broightest wits will bear that koind ofsharpening', so they will. I wouldn't be knowin' what to do half thetime if it wasn't for sleepin' good of nights. And, by the same token, if any of them high-steppin' clerks comes around with a cigar anda-wantin' you to go here and yon of nights, jist remimber that your witsis your stock in trade, and Mr. Farnham's not wantin' dull wans abouthim, nayther. "

Thus having headed off any designs that might be had upon Pat, hismother went to sharpen her own wits for whatever the morrow might havein store for her. 

And now a change began to come over Jim. He left his younger brothers inunhectored peace. He had not much to say, but ever he watched Andy fromthe corner of a jealous eye, and listened for him to speak. All hispugnacity was engaged in what seemed to be a profitless struggle withthe speech of the grammar. "I _will_ larn it yet, " he repeated overand over. And even while the words were in his mouth, if he had had lessobstinacy in his make-up, he would have yielded himself to despair. Buta good thing happened to him. Miss Slocum, not knowing his ignoblemotive, and seeing a very earnest child striving to improve himself, setabout helping him in every possible way. 

One day she called him to her. "Jim, " she said, "asking me questions isslow work. Suppose I correct you every time you make a mistake?"

"Yes, ma'am, " answered Jim vaguely, not knowing the meaning of_correct_. 

"You don't understand me?"

"No, ma'am. "

"_Correct_ means to make right. Suppose I set you right wheneveryou go wrong?"

"That's it!" cried Jim enthusiastically. "That's it! I can larn that waysure. "

"_Learn_, not _larn_, Jim. "

Jim looked at her. "'Tis learn and not larn I'll be sayin', " hedeclared. 

"Not _I'll be sayin'_, " corrected Miss Slocum, "but _I'llsay_. "

"_Learn_, not _larn_, and _I'll say_, not _I'll besayin'_, " amended the obedient Jim, and then he sped away. 

And that night he did what never a child of Mrs. O'Callaghan's had donebefore. The family were at supper. Pat, paying good heed to his tongue, was manifestly improving, and the widow was congratulating him in herown way. 

"What did I be sayin' to you, Pat dear? Did I be tellin' you you wasn'ttoo old to larn? And I'll be sayin' it again, so I will. "

"_Larn's_ not the right of it, " interrupted Jim. "_Learn's_what you ought to be sayin'. _I'll be sayin'_ ain't right, nayther, " he continued. "It's _I'll say_, " and he looked veryimportant. 

Pat and Andy regarded him in displeased astonishment, but the widowcould take care of her own. 

"And it's glad I am to see that you know so much, Jim, " she saidquietly. "What more do you know? Let's hear it. "

Thus brought to book Jim grew confused. He blushed and stammered underthe unfavorable regard of his mother and two older brothers, and finallyconfessed that he knew nothing more. At which Barney and Tommie nudgedeach other. They did not understand what all the talk was about, butthey could see that Jim was very red in the face, and not at all at hisease, and their beforetime hectored little selves rejoiced. 

"B'ys, " said the mother, "I told you if your blessed father was herehe'd not be above learning from any one, old or young. And he wouldn't, nayther. And sure he said _larn_ himsilf. And from Jim here he'dlearn better than that, and he'd learn, too, how them that knows verylittle is the quickest to make a show of it. But kape on, Jim. It's gladI am you know the difference betwane _larn_ and _learn_, andsure the only difference is that wan's wrong and the other's roight. "

Jim had hoped to quite extinguish Andy by his corrections, and he hardlyknew where he was when his mother finished; and he was still more abroadwhen Pat took him out after supper and vigorously informed him that badmanners were far worse than bad grammar. 

"Well, well, " thought the widow that evening as she waited alone forPat, "Jim do be gettin' ahead of me, that he do. He's loike to have theconsate, so he is, take him down as a body will. But there's wan goodthing about it. While he's studyin' to beat us all on the talkin' he'slettin' the little b'ys alone famous. He didn't never do much to 'em, but he jist riled 'em completely, so he did, and made 'em cross ativerybody. "

CHAPTER XIV

A month went along very quietly and, following that, another month. Theweeds that had flourished along the sides of the ditches were all dead. No more did the squawking O'Callaghan geese delight themselves amongthem. The kitchen stove had long been brought back into the shanty, andBarney and Tommie, sitting close behind it on their short evenings thatended in bedtime at half-past seven o'clock, had only the remembrance oftheir labors. But that memory sweetened the prospect of savory dinnersto come, for even Barney and Tommie liked to feel that they were of someimportance in the family world. Often had their mother praised them fortheir care of the geese, and once she had bought for them a wholenickel's worth of candy and had bestowed this great treat with thewords, "And how could I be havin' geese only for the little b'ys? You'lljist be givin' Larry a bit, for sure and he'll be past four nixt summer, and helpin' you loike anything. "

The candy, like the summer, was only a memory now, but, without puttingtheir hope into words, there lingered in the minds of the two ananticipation of more candy to come. 

As for Larry, he lived from day to day and took whatever came his waycheerfully, which he might well do, since he was a general pet whereverhe was known. 

But now a new difficulty confronted the widow. Snowtime had come. Howwas she to get Larry along to her wash places? She was sitting late oneFriday afternoon thinking about it. All day the snow had been falling, and many times, in the early dusk, had Jim been out to measure the depthwith his legs. And each time he returned he had worn a more gratifiedsmile. 

"Well, Jim, " said his mother finally, "you do be grinnin' foine iverytoime you come in, and a lot of wet you're bringin' with you, too, a-stampin' the snow off on the floor. You'll remimber that toimes arechanged. Wanst it was old men as had the rheumatism, but now b'ys canhave it, to say nothin' of colds and sore throats and doctors' bills. You'll stay in now. The snow can deepen without you, I'm thinkin'. "

Thus admonished, Jim went with a bad grace to wash his hands, and thento set the table for supper. 

Presently in came Pat. 

"Where's the clothes basket, mother?" he inquired. "I'll be bringing inthe clothes from the line for you. "

Mrs. O'Callaghan handed him the basket with a smile, and out went Mr. Farnham's newest clerk to the summer kitchen, under whose roof the linewas stretched in parallel lengths. 

"I couldn't be dryin' the clothes in the house with no place to put 'em, but the new kitchen's the thing, so 'tis, " the mother had said. "Clotheswill dry there famous, 'specially when it's rainin' or snowin'. Pat andMoike did a good thing when they made it. I've heard tell of them as hasdryin' rooms for winter, and 'tis mysilf has wan of 'em. "

These were the words that had caused Pat to smile with pleasure, and hadstirred Mike's heart with determination to do yet more for his mother. And that same evening the widow's sturdy second son came to the shanty, and behind him on the snow bumped and slid his newest handiwork--a sledfor Larry to ride on. 

"And what have you got there?" asked Mrs. O'Callaghan when he dragged itinto the house. 

"A sled!" cried Barney and Tommie together, pausing on their bedwardway, and opening wide their sleepy eyes. 

"And 'twas mysilf was wonderin' how to get Larry along with me!"exclaimed the mother when Mike had explained the object of the sled. "What's the good of me wonderin' when I've got Moike for my b'y? 'Twashis father as would have made a sled jist loike it, I'm thinkin'. ButMoike, " as she saw the light of affection in his eyes, "you'll bespoilin' me. Soon I'll not be wonderin' any more, but I'll be sayin', 'Moike will fix it some way. '"

"Will you, mother?" cried the boy. "Will you promise me that?"

"Moike! Moike!" said the widow, touched by his eager look and tone, "what a b'y you are for questions! Would I be layin' all my burdens onyou, when it's six brothers you've got? 'Twouldn't be fair to you. Butto know you're so ready and willin' loightens my ivery load, and it's acomfort you are to me. Your father was always for makin' easy toimes forother people, and you're loike him, Moike. And now I've something elseto be talkin' of. Will you be havin' the goose for Gineral and Mrs. Brady to-morrow?"

"I will, mother, " answered Mike respectfully. 

"Then, Moike, when you get ready to go back, you'll foind the foinestwan of the lot all by himsilf in a box Pat brought from the store. Mr. Farnham give it to him, though he mostly sells 'em. And I've larned thatgoose to slape in it, so I have, and an awful job it was, too. Geese andpigs now, Moike, are slow to larn. But he knows his place at last, so hedoes, and you'll foind him in it. "

Then catching sight, around the corner of the table, of the enrapturedtwo on the kitchen floor busy over the new family treasure, she cried:"Now, Barney and Tommie, to bed with you, and dream of havin' the sledSaturdays, for that's what you shall have. 'Tis Moike makes the treatsfor us all. "

 * * * * *

That evening at half-past nine there was a knock on the sitting-roomdoor. 

"Come!" called the General. 

The door opened and in walked Mike with the sleek goose under his arm. 

"My mother's sending you a goose, Mrs. Brady, " he said with a bow. 

The Bradys were already much attached to Mike; and the General had beenheard to say that the very name of O'Callaghan seemed to be acertificate of worthiness. So the goose was made much of and the nexttime Mike went home he carried a bunch of roses from Mrs. Brady. 

"And sure 'tis roses as are the gift of a lady!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan, receiving the flowers with an air of pride. "There's some as would havetook the goose as their due and have made you feel loike dirt undertheir feet while they was takin' it. But the General and Mrs. Brady arequite another sort. And it's proud I am that they et the goose and foundit good. Though it wouldn't have been good nayther if you hadn't cookedit good, Moike. There's them as can cook 'most anything and have itgood, jist as there's them as can spoil the best. And now, Moike, I'venews for you. But first do you notice how clean Jim kapes things? Himand Andy makes a foine team, so they do. "

Mike looked about him with a critical air that increased in mockseverity as he saw little Jim rapidly donning his regalia of importance. "See a speck of dust if you can, " spoke Jim's look. And then Mike waslavish with his praise. 

"You don't kape Mrs. Brady's things no cleaner, do you, Moike?"

"I don't, mother, for I can't, " was the answer. Hearing which, Jimbecame pompous, and the widow judged that she might tell her newswithout unduly rousing up his jealousy. 

"Well, then, Moike, you'll niver be guessin' the news, only maybe you'veheard it already, for 'tis school news. Andy's to be set ahead of hisclass into the nixt higher wan. It's proud I am, for ivery family needsa scholar, so it does. "

Mike turned upon Andy a look of affectionate interest. "I hadn't heardyour news, mother, but it's good news, and I'm glad to hear it, " he saidheartily. 

"I knowed you would be glad, Moike, for 'tis yoursilf as sees that whenyour brother gets up you get up with him. It's bad when wan brotherthinks to be gettin' ahead of all the rest. " And she looked gravely atJim. "Brothers are made each wan to do his part, and be glad when wanand another gets up. "

But little Jim appeared discontented. All this praise of Andy quite tookthe edge off what he himself had received. His mother sighed. 

"But I'll not give him up yet, " she thought after a moment. "No, I'llnot give him up, for he's Tim's b'y, though most unlike him. I do moindhearin' wanst that Tim had a brother of that sort. Jim's loike him, nodoubt, and he come to a bad end, so he did, a-gettin' to be an agitator, as they calls 'em. And sure what's an agitator but wan that's sour ativerybody's good luck but his own, and his own good luck turnin' out badon account of laziness and consate? I'm needin' more wisdom than I'vegot when I'd be dealin' with Jim. "

While the mother sat silent her sons were talking together in low tones. Andy and Jim told of the rabbits they had trapped in the hazel brush, and how they had eaten some and some they had sold in the stores. AndMike, in his turn, told them how many rabbits there were in the Bradyneighborhood, and how nobody seemed to wish to have them disturbed. 

"What are they good for, if you can't catch 'em?" asked Jim, who couldnever catch enough. 

"Good to look pretty hopping about, I guess, " responded Mike. 

"Huh!" exclaimed Jim, who, like many a one older than he, had smallrespect for opinions that clashed with his own. 

"He'll be turnin' to be an agitator sure, only maybe I can head himoff, " thought the mother, who had been idly listening. 

"Jim, " she said, "'twas your father as was iver for hearin' both sidesof iverything. If there's them that thinks rabbits looks pretty jumpin'around, why, no doubt they do. 'Tisn't iverybody that's trappin', you'llmoind. If you was a horse now, you'd be called strong in the mouth, andyou'd need a firm hand on the lines. And if you'd been brung up amonghorses, as your father was, you'd know as them obstinate wans as wantsthe bits in their teeth are the wans as gets the beatin's. You're nohorse, but things will go crossways to you all your loife if you don'tdo different. When there's nayther roight nor wrong in the matter letiverybody have their own way. "

And then little Jim became downright sulky. 

[Illustration: "Little Jim became downright sulky. "]

"Rabbits is for trappin', " he said stubbornly. 

"Well, well, " thought the widow, "I'll have to be waitin' a bit. ButI'll be makin' something out of Jim yet. "

Then she turned to Mike. "And how are you comin' on at the Gineral's?"she inquired. "It's hopin' I am you're watchin' him close and larnin' tobe loike him. "

"I'm trying, mother, " was the modest answer. 

Mrs. O'Callaghan nodded approvingly. "A pattern's a good thing for usall to go by, " she said. "Your father's gone, and you can only be loikehim by heedin' to what I'm tellin' you about him. But the Gineral youcan see for yoursilves. If you can get to be loike your father and theGineral both, it's proud I'll be of you. And I will say that you'rea-comin' to it, Moike. 

"And there's another thing. The little b'ys has their chance, too. Andit's because Andy here takes as natural to bein' a gintleman as thimgeese takes to squawkin'. Whether it's loikin' his book or what it is, he's the wan to have handy for the little b'ys to pattern by. As far ashe's gone he knows, and he can't be beat in knowin' how to treat otherfolks nice. And he's that quiet about what he knows that you wouldn'tthink he knows anything only for seein' him act it out. "

And now little Jim was completely miserable. Constantly craving praisewas little Jim, and the loss of it was torture to him. The widow glancedat him out of the corner of her eye. She saw it was time to relieve him. 

"But there's wan thing Jim's got that no other wan of my b'ys has, " shecontinued. 

Jim pricked up his ears. 

"He's the born foighter, is Jim. If he was big now, and there was a warto come, he'd be a soldier, I'm thinkin'. He's for foightin' iverything, even the words of a body's mouth. "

This praise might be equivocal, but little Jim did not so understand it, and his pride returned. 

His mother observed it. "But what you need, Jim, " she went on, "is to betakin' a tuck in yoursilf. Look at the Gineral. Does he go foightin' intoimes of peace? That he don't. Will you look at the Gineral, Jim?"

Now Pat and Mike had been instructed to look at the General as theirpattern. This appeal was placing Jim alongside of his two big brothers. 

"Will you look at the Gineral, Jim?" repeated Mrs. O'Callaghan. 

"I will, " said Jim. 

CHAPTER XV

Jim was enterprising. Far more enterprising than anybody gave him creditfor. He had been set to copy the General, and that night as he lay downto sleep he resolved to outdo Pat and Mike. The little boys wereinsignificant in his eyes as he thought of what was before him, and evenAndy offered small food for jealousy. To excel the two big boys wasworth trying for. 

Now the General was more familiar to Jim's ears than to his eyes. He atonce resolved to remedy that. 

"I'll have to be followin' him around and be seein' how he does, so Iwill, " he told himself. "And I'll have to be gettin' my work done quickto be doin' it. "

Accordingly he hustled through the dishwashing at a great rate the nextmorning, for his mother had lately decided that he might wash the dishesas well as wipe them. The dusting, usually carefully done, was a whiskhere and a wipe there in the most exposed places. By such means did heobtain a half hour of extra time, and off he went up the railroad trackon his way to General Brady's. He soon came to the point where he mustleave the track for the street, and, the street being comparativelyunused and so without a pavement, he was compelled to wade the snow. Into it with his short legs he plunged, only anxious to reach the housebefore the General started down town. And he was almost out of breathwhen he came to the corner and turned south on the cleared sidewalk. Onhe hurried and around to the kitchen door. 

"Is he gone?" he inquired, poking his head into the room where hisbrother was busily washing dishes. 

Mike stared. The door had opened so softly, the words were sobreathless, and the little boy so very red in the face. "Who?" he askedin astonishment. 

"The Gineral, " said Jim impatiently. 

"Just going, " returned Mike. And at the words Jim was out with the doorshut behind him. 

"What's got into little Jim?" thought Mike. Out of the yard flew Jim, and took on an air of indifferent loitering as he waited. Yes, therecame the General. How broad his shoulders were! How straight his back!How firm his tread! At sight of all this little Jim squared himself and, a half block in the rear, walked imitatively down the street. It was allvery well for his mother to say that Jim was a born fighter. But she hadentirely overlooked the fact that he was a born mimic also. 

Here and there a smiling girl ran to the window to gaze after the two asthey passed--the stately old General and his ridiculous little copy. Butit was when they neared the square that the guffaws began. The General, being slightly deaf, did not notice, and little Jim was so intent onfollowing copy that he paid no attention. Thus they went the entirelength of the east side of the square, and then along the south sideuntil, at the southwest corner, the old soldier disappeared in thedoorway of the bank. By this time little Jim's shoulders were achingfrom the restraint put upon them, for Jim was not naturally erect. Andhis long walk at what was, to him, an usually slow pace had made hisnose blue with cold. But instead of running off to get warm he pressedclose against the big window and peered in at his pattern. He knew hisback and his walk now, and he wanted to see his face. 

Presently one of the amused spectators stepped into the bank and spoke afew words to its president, and the General turned to look at the littlefellow. 

"Who is he?" he asked. 

"One of your O'Callaghans, General, " was the laughing answer. 

The General flushed. Then he beckoned to Jim, who immediately came in. 

"Go back to the stove and get warm, my boy, " he said. "You look cold. "

Jim obeyed and presently the General's friend went out. 

"Now, my boy, " said the General, walking back to the stove, "what didyou mean by following me?"

Little Jim's blue eyes looked up into the blue eyes of the old soldier. "Our eyes is the same color, " he thought. And then he answered: "Mymother told me to be makin' a pattern out of you. She told the same toPat and Mike, too, and I'm goin' to do it better than they do, see if Idon't. Why, they don't walk fine and straight like you do. But I can doit. I larned this morning. "

The General laughed. "And what were you peering in at the window for?"

"Sure and I wanted to be watchin' your face, so I did. 'Tis my mother assays I'm the born fighter, and she says, 'Look at the General. Does hebe goin' round fightin' in times of peace? That he don't. ' And she wantsme to be like you and I'm goin' to be. "

"What's your name?"

"Jim. "

"Well, Jim, I don't think your mother meant that you should follow methrough the street and try to walk like me. And you must not do so anymore. "

"But I knows how now, sir, " objected Jim, who was loth to discard hisnew accomplishment. 

"Nevertheless you must not follow me about and imitate my movements anymore, " forbade the General. 

"And how am I to be like you then, if you won't let me do the way youdo?"

For a moment the General seemed perplexed. Then he opened the door andmotioned Jim out. "Ask your mother, " he said. 

"I won't, " declared little Jim obstinately, when he found himself in thestreet. "I won't ask her. "

But he did. The coasting was excellent on a certain hill, and the hillwas only a short distance northwest of the O'Callaghan home. 

"'Twill do Andy good to have a bit of a change and eat wanst of a supperhe ain't cooked, " the widow had said. And so it was that she was alone, save for Larry, when Jim came in after school. Presently the wholeaffair of the morning came out, and Mrs. O'Callaghan listened withhorrified ears. 

"And do you know how that looked to them that seen you?" she askedseverely. "Sure and it looked loike you was makin' fun of the Gineral. "

"But I wasn't, " protested little Jim. 

"Sure and don't I know that? Would a b'y of mine be makin' fun ofGineral Brady?"

"He said I wasn't to do it no more, " confided little Jim humbly. 

The widow nodded approbation. "And what did you say then?" she asked. 

"I says to him, 'How can I get to be like you, sir, when you won't letme do the way you do?'"

"And then?"

"Then he opened the door, and his hand said, 'Go outside. ' And just as Iwas goin' he said, 'Ask your mother. '"

"'Twasn't for naught he got made a gineral, " commented Mrs. O'Callaghan. "'Tis himsilf as knows a b'y's mother is the wan. For who is it else cansee how he's so full of brag he's loike to boorst and a-wantin' to dobig things till he can't dust good nor wash the plates clean? Dust onthe father's chair, down on the rockers where you thought it wouldn'tshow, and egg on the plates, and them piled so slick wan on top of theother and lookin' as innocent as if they felt thimsilves quite clean. Ah, Jim! Jim!"

The widow's fourth son blushed. He cast a hasty glance over the room andwas relieved to see that Larry, his mother's only other auditor, wasplaying busily in a corner. 

Mrs. O'Callaghan went on. She had Jim all to herself and she meant toimprove her chance. 

"You haint got the hang of this ambition business, Jim. That's thetrouble. You're always tryin' to do some big thing and beat somebody. 'Tis well you should know the Lord niver puts little b'ys and big jobstogether. He gives the little b'ys a chance at the little jobs, and themas does the little jobs faithful gets to be the men that does the bigjobs easy. "

Jim now sought to turn the conversation, the doctrine of faithfulness insmall things not being at all to his taste. "And will _I_ be havin'a bank, too, like the Gineral?" he asked. 

His mother looked at him. "There you go again, Jim, " she said. "And surehow can I tell whether you'll have a bank or not? 'Tisn't all the goodfoightin' men as has banks. But you might try for it. And if you've gota bank in your eye, you'd best pay particular attintion to your dustin'and your dishwashin'. Them's your two first steps. "

Little Jim pondered as well as he was able. It seemed to him that thefirst steps to everything in life, according to his mother, were dustingand dishwashing. His face was downcast and he put the dishes on thetable in an absent-minded way. 

"What are you thinkin' about, Jim?" asked his mother after many asidelong glance at him. "Cheer up!"

"Ain't there no other first steps?" he asked gloomily. 

"Not for you, Jim. And it's lucky you are that you don't loike thedustin' and the dishwashin'. "

Jim was evidently mystified. 

"Because, do you see, Jim, iverybody has got to larn sooner or later todo things they don't loike to do. You've begun in toime, so you have, and, if you kape on, you can get a lot of it done before you come to theplace where you can do what you loike, such as kapin' a bank and that. But it's no business. The Gineral's business was foightin', you know. Hekapes a bank jist to pass the toime. "

Little Jim's eyes widened. Here was a new outlook for him. 

"But you must do 'em good, " admonished his mother. "There's nothin' butbad luck goes with poor dustin' and dirty dishwashin'. And spakin' ofluck, it's lucky you are I caught you at it the first toime you done 'embad, for, do you see, I'll be lookin' out for you now for a good bitjist to be seein' that you're a b'y that can be trusted. It's hopin' Iam you'll be loike your father, for 'twas your father as could betrusted ivery toime. And now I've a plan for you. We'll be havin' Moiketo show you how they lays the table at the Gineral's. 'Twill be a foinething for you to larn, and 'twill surprise Pat, and be a good thing forthe little b'ys to see. Them little b'ys don't get the chance to seemuch otherwheres, and they'll have to be larnin' their manners to home, so they will. Pat and Moike with the good manners about eatin' they'velarned at the Gineral's, and the little b'ys without a manner to theirback! Sure and 'twill be a lesson to 'em to see the table when you'velarned to set it roight. "

Jim brightened at once. He had had so much lesson himself to-day that itwas a great pleasure to think of his younger brothers being instructedin their turn. In they came at that moment, their red little handstingling with cold. But they were hilarious, for kind-hearted Andy hadtaken them to the hill, and over and over they had whizzed down its longlength with him. At another time Jim might have been jealous; butto-night he regarded them from the vantage ground of his superiorinformation concerning them. They were to be instructed. And Jim knewit, if they did not. He placed the chairs with dignity, and hopedinstruction might prove as unwelcome to Barney and Tommie as it was tohim. And as they jounced down into their seats the moment the steamingsupper was put upon the table, and gazed at it with eager, hungry eyes, and even gave a sniff or two, he felt that here was a field forimprovement, indeed. And he smiled. Not that Jim was a bad boy, or amalicious one, but when Barney and Tommie were wrong, it was the thingthat they should be set right, of course. 

[Illustration: "In they came at that moment"]

CHAPTER XVI

Pat had now been in Mr. Farnham's employ two months and more, and neverhad his faithfulness slackened. He had caught the knack of measuringgoods easily and tying up packages neatly. He could run off a length ofcalico and display it to any customer that came to him, and what mostendeared him to Mr. Farnham was that he could sell. 

"Best clerk I ever had, " the merchant told himself. But he did notadvance this "best clerk" although Pat longed and hoped for promotion. Upon every opportunity he studied dress goods at the front end of thestore, and carpets and cloaks at the rear. And day by day he went onpatiently selling prints, ginghams and muslins. 

"'Tis the best things as are longest a-comin' sometimes, " said hismother encouragingly. "Are you sellin' what you've got as well as youknow how?"

"I am, mother. "

"Well, if you are, be sure Mr. Farnham knows it, and, by the same token, he'd be knowin' it if you was gapin' in the customers' faces or hummin'or whistlin' soft like while you waited on 'em. Mr. Wall had a clerkwanst that done that way. I've seen him. And, by the same token, heain't got him now. Ladies don't care for hummin' and whistlin' whenthey're buyin' goods. "

And now trade was growing heavier. The other clerks were overburdened, while Pat in his humble place had little to do. Suddenly there came acall for him at the dress counter. A lady had come in and both the otherclerks were busy. She was one who continually lamented in an injuredtone of voice that she lived in so small a town as Wennott, and sherarely made purchases there. Her name was Mrs. Pomeroy. 

"Let us see if Pat sells her anything. It will be a wonder if he does, "thought Mr. Farnham. 

Languidly Mrs. Pomeroy examined this and that in an uninterested way, and all the time Pat was paying the closest attention, trying todiscover just what she wanted. His heart was beating fast. If only hecould make a sale, what might it not mean to him?

"Here is a pattern for a street dress, madam. " Pat's voice was musical, and his manner most respectful. Mrs. Pomeroy felt interested andattracted at once. She looked on while Pat drew out the dress patternfrom its box, displaying to advantage its soft coloring and finetexture. 

Mrs. Pomeroy put her head on one side and regarded it through half-shuteyes. 

"The only pattern of exactly its sort and color, " said the persuasivevoice of Pat. He had learned from the other clerks that this was a greatrecommendation to a piece of goods and helped to sell it. 

Mrs. Pomeroy reflected. 

She asked the price and reflected again, and all the time she noticedthat Pat's interest was real and not simulated; that he was doing hisbest to please her. She liked the goods, but not better than a patternshe had seen at Wall's. But Wall's clerks were inattentive andindifferent. They had an air that said "There are the goods. Buy 'em orleave 'em. 'Tis nothing to us. "

She was thinking of this as well as of the dress goods before her andfinally she said, "You may wrap the pattern up. I will take it. "

Then did Pat's eyes dance with delight, and he thought of his mother. But it was only a glancing thought, for in a second he was saying: "Mr. Farnham has gloves to match. "

"I will look at them. "

To look was to buy when Pat was salesman, and, in a few moments, thehappiest clerk in the store, Pat walked modestly back to his own place. 

"Well done, Pat!" exclaimed Mr. Farnham, going up to him. "I wish youwould keep an eye on the dress counter, and, whenever another clerk isneeded, attend there. "

"I will, sir, " answered Pat gratefully. 

Three times more was Pat needed before the day closed, and every time hemade a good sale. 

As usual Mrs. O'Callaghan was waiting alone for Pat. She was extremelytired and almost despondent. For to earn what she could and keep hersons up to the mark she had set for them was a great strain on her. Andshe missed her husband. More and more she missed him. "Ah, Tim!" shecried, "'twas a great thing you done for me when you taught our b'ysthat moind me they must and that without questions about it. Only forthat I couldn't do much with 'em. And without you it's hard enough, soit is. I hain't never laid finger on wan of 'em, and I won't nayther, for sure they're not beasts but b'ys. I mistrust my hardest toimes areahead of me. Pat and Moike and Andy don't trouble me none. Sure and abloind man can see them three is all roight. But Jim and Barney andTommie and Larry now--how can I be tellin' what's comin' of them? And Ican't set the big b'ys over 'em only to take care of 'em loike, for sureb'ys as are worth anything won't be bossed by their big brothers. Theysees the unfairness of it. "

And then intruding upon her thoughts came a boy's merry whistle; awhistle that told of a heart where happiness was bubbling up andoverflowing, and the whistling came nearer and nearer. 

"Whativer do be makin' Pat come home with a tune loike that?" she asked. And she half rose as Pat's hand opened the door and the tall youngfellow stepped in. The tiny lamp was very bright, and in its light theboy's eyes were brilliant. 

"Well, Pat!" exclaimed his mother. "The lamp's but a poor match for youreyes to-night. You've got news for me. What is it?"

And Pat told with an eager tongue how, at last, he had a chance toattend at the dress counter when the two regular clerks there were busyand another one was needed. 

The widow was silent a moment. It was not quite what she had hoped tohear, knowing her Pat as she did, but she was determined to keep herson's courage up. So she said, "Well, then, if you've got so far, itrests with yoursilf to go farther. 'Tis a blessed thing that there aresuch a many things in this world a-restin' on a body's lone silf. Butthere's them that niver foinds it out, and that goes about layin' theirown blame here, there and yon. "

Pat's elation lasted him overnight and even well on into the next day. And that day was more wonderful than the one before it. For, about themiddle of the forenoon, General Brady came into the store and walkedback to Mr. Farnham's desk, giving Pat a smile and a bow as he passedhim, and receiving in return an affectionate look. The one evening aweek with the General had not served to diminish the boy's fondness forhim, but it had served to make Pat a greater favorite than ever with theold soldier. 

"Mr. Farnham, " said the General, after a few pleasant words had beenexchanged, "Mr. Wall offers thirty dollars a month for Pat. Do you wishto keep him?"

"I suppose I shall have to come up to Wall's offer if I do?"

"Exactly, " was the response with a smile. The General was delighted withPat's success, and he could not help showing it. 

"Pat is getting himself a reputation among your customers, " he remarkedpleasantly. 

"Frankly, General, " replied Mr. Farnham, "he's the best boy I ever had. He shall have his thirty dollars. "

If the whistle was merry the night before, it was mad with joy on thatWednesday evening. 

"Pat! Pat! what ails you?" cried his mother as the boy came bounding inwith a shout and a toss of his cap. "You'll be wakin' your brothers. "

"I'd like to wake 'em, mother, " was the jubilant answer. "I've got newsthat's worth wakin' 'em for. "

"And what is it?" was the eager question. 

"Well, mother, then it's this. I'm to have thirty dollars a month and tostay at the dress counter. "

"Pat! Pat!" exclaimed the little woman, excited in her turn. "It's fortyyears old I am, and sure and I know better than to be wakin' b'ys out oftheir slape jist to be hearin' a bit of news. But I'm goin' to wake 'em. They shall be knowin' this night what comes to a b'y that does his bestwhen he's got Gineral Brady to back him. And would Gineral Brady backyou if you didn't desarve it? That he wouldn't. I ain't heard nothin' ofhis backin' up street loafers nor any sort of shiftless b'ys. "

The boys were wakened, and a difficult task it was. But when, at last, they were all thoroughly roused and were made to understand that therewas no fire, nor any uproar in the streets, nor a train off the track, they stared about them wonderingly. And when they had been told of Pat'sgood fortune, "Is _that_ all?" asked jealous little Jim, and downwent his red head on the pillow, and shut went his eyes in a twinkling. Barney and Tommie, who knew not the value of money, gazed solemnly attheir mother and Pat, and then into each other's eyes and composedlylaid themselves down to renewed slumber. And Larry howled till thewindows rattled, for Larry was a strong child for his years, and neverbefore had he been waked up in the night. But Andy sat up in bed andclasped his brother's hand in both his while his face showed hisdelight. 

And then something happened to Andy. His mother, disgusted at theconduct of the little boys, put her arm around his neck and kissed him. 

"It's a jewel you are, Andy, " she said, "with good understandin' in you. You'll be wakin' up Pat in the noight some day. "

"Huh!" thought jealous little Jim, who was only feigning sleep. 

"Now, mother, " said Pat when the tiny lamp stood once more on thekitchen table, and the two sat beside the stove, "will you give up twoof your wash places?"

"Not I, Pat dear. With six of us, not countin' you and not countin'Moike, who cares for himsilf, we need all the money we can honestlyget. "

"Only one, then, mother; only one. My good luck is no comfort to me if Ican't think of your getting a day's rest every week out of it. "

The widow regarded him earnestly. She saw how her refusal would pain himand she yielded. "Well, then, " she said, "wan place, Pat dear, I'll giveup. And it'll be Wednesday, because 'twas on a Wednesday that your luckcome to you. "

Another month went by and the holiday trade was over. Nevertheless theamount of custom at Mr. Farnham's did not diminish much. Ladies who wentout on looking tours, if they began at Farnham's ended there bypurchasing. If they stopped first at Wall's they went on to Farnham'sand bought there. Mr. Wall was not blind. And so, one day General Bradywalked into Mr. Farnham's store and back to his desk again. 

"Another rise?" asked the merchant laughingly. 

"Something of the sort, " was the rejoinder. "Mr. Wall offers fortydollars a month for Pat. "

"He doesn't take him though, " was the significant answer. 

The General laughed. "I see you appreciate him, " he said. 

"Well, to tell the truth, General, I know my right hand man when I seehim, and Pat O'Callaghan is his name. I only wish there were two ofhim. "

The General's face grew thoughtful. "There may be, " he said at length. "His next brother, Mike, is at our house, and just as much of a borntrader as Pat. His ways, however, are a little different. "

Mr. Farnham put out his hand. "I take this hint as very kind of you, General. When may I have him?"

"Could you wait till next fall? He ought to finish this school year. Next winter I could take charge of him one evening a week together withPat. The terms must be the same for him as they were for Pat when hebegan--fifteen dollars a month and one evening each week out. "

"All right, General. I'll be frank with you---I'm glad to get him onthose terms. I begin to think that it's enough of a recommendation for aboy to be an O'Callaghan. "

The General smiled as he left Mr. Farnham's desk, and on his way out ofthe store, he stopped to speak to Pat. 

"What is your greatest ambition, my boy?" he asked. And he knew whatanswer he would receive before Pat replied, "To have a store withO'Callaghan Brothers over the door. "

Again the General smiled, and this time very kindly. "I'll tell you asort of a secret, " he said, "that isn't so much of a secret that youneed to hesitate about speaking of it. Mike's coming to Mr. Farnham nextfall. "

Then the boy got hold of the man's hand. "General Brady, " he began aftera moment of silence, "you know I can't thank you as I ought in words, but----" and then he stopped. This boy who could fight to defend hissmall brother, who could face contempt to ease his mother's burdens, whocould grub and dig and win a chance for his own promotion, was very nearto tears. 

He did not wish to shed those tears, and the General knew it. So with ahearty "Good-by, Pat, " the fine old soldier passed on. 

CHAPTER XVII

The shanty by the tracks had never seen such rejoicing as occurredwithin its cheap walls that January evening. Pat had said nothing atsupper time of his wonderful news concerning Mike. He knew how anxioushis brother would be to tell it himself, and he had left the tale of hisown advancement to follow Mike's disclosure. For he felt sure that heshould find Mike upon his return from the store at nine o'clock, andthat he would spend the night at home, as he sometimes did. Many timesthat day he glanced at the print and gingham counter and imagined Mike'ssturdy figure behind it. Pat's hands were long and slender, while Mike'swere of the sort known as "useful. " "Before ever he comes in he shallknow how to measure and display goods, and how to make neat packages, "he thought. "I'll teach him myself odd times. "

And then followed visions of the increased comfort to come to theshanty. He saw his mother, with never a wash place, staying at homeevery day to guide and control the little boys. He saw Andy, quiet, studious Andy, moving gently about in General Brady's house, and thethought came to him that the General would probably like him better thanhe did either Mike or himself, though Andy would never be much of a handat marketing. And then came the most daring thought of all--"Andy shallgo to college. Mike and I will help him to it. "

But never an opportunity of making a sale did Pat miss. With that lastdecision to send Andy to college he had hung upon himself a new weight. Not a weight that oppressed and bent him down, but a weight that causedhim to hold his head up and resolve, as never before, to do his best. 

"Andy's not strong, " his busy brain, in the intervals of trade, ran on. "But with Mike on one side of him and me on the other, he'll get to theplace where he can do his best. General Brady is helping Mike and me. It's a pity if the two of us can't help Andy. "

It was hard to keep still at supper time, but Pat succeeded, onlyallowing himself to bestow a look of particular affection on hisfavorite brother. 

But his mother was not to be deceived. She followed him to the door and, putting her head outside, said softly, "You may kape still if you wantto, Pat dear, but 'tis mysilf as knows you've somethin' on your moind. "

"Well, then, mother, " prophesied Pat with a laughing backward glance, "Ithink Mike will be over to spend the evening with you. " And he was off. 

"And what does he mean by that?" wondered Mrs. O'Callaghan, lookingafter him. "There's somethin' astir. I felt it by the look of him. "

She turned back and shut the door, and there was little Jim loitering asif he hardly knew whether to wash the dishes or not. 

"'Tis the bank that's ahead of you, do you moind, Jim? Hurry up withyour dish pan. Pat was sayin' maybe Mike'll be home this evenin'. "

In response to this urging little Jim made a clatter with the dishesthat might be taken by some to represent an increase of speed, but hismother was not of that number. 

"Come, Jim, " she said, "less n'ise. If you was hustlin' them thin chinadishes of Mrs. Gineral Brady's loike that there'd be naught left of 'embut pieces--and dirty pieces, too, for they'd all be broke before you'dwashed wan of 'em. "

"I ain't never goin' to wash any of Mrs. Gineral Brady's dishes, "remarked Jim calmly. 

"You're young yet, Jim, to be sayin' what you're goin' to do and whatnot, " was the severe response. "At your age your father would niver havesaid he would or he would not about what was a long way ahead of him, for your father was wise, and he knowed that ne'er a wan of us knowswhat's comin' to us. "

[Illustration: "Little Jim made a clatter with the dishes. "]

But Jim's countenance expressed indifference. "Gineral Brady's got abank without washin' dishes for it, " he observed. 

The widow stared. This was a little nearer to impertinence than anythingshe had before encountered. 

"You moind the Gineral made gravy, do you?" she said at last. "And goodgravy, too?"

Jim was obliged to own that he remembered it. "And that he done it withan apron on to kape from gettin' burnt and spattered?"

Jim nodded. 

"Him that ain't above makin' gravy, ain't above washin' dishes, nayther, " was the statement made in Mrs. O'Callaghan's most impressivemanner. "Show Gineral Brady a pile of dishes that it was his place towash, and he'd wash 'em, you may depind. 'Tis iver the biggest folks aswill do little things loike that when they has to, and do 'em good, too. What's got into you, Jim?"

"You think Pat and Mike and Andy's better than me, " burst out thejealous little fellow. 

"I think, " said his mother, "that Pat and Moike and Andy _does_better than you, for they takes what's set for 'em and does it as goodas they can. But you're all Tim's b'ys, so you are. "

"If I done like Pat and Mike and Andy, " asked Jim hesitatingly, "wouldyou think I was just as good?"

"Sure and I would, Jim, " said his mother earnestly. "Will you try?"

"I will. "

And then steps crunched on the snowy path that led to the shanty door, and Mike came in. There was that in his face that told his motherwithout a word that he brought good news. 

"Moike! Moike! 'Tis the shanty's the luckiest place in town, for there'snaught but good news comes to it, do you see? What have you got totell?"

"I've got to tell, " cried Mike in ringing tones, "that next fall I'm togo to Mr. Farnham's store at fifteen dollars a month. Pat shan't do allfor you, mother. I'll do some myself. "

For a moment the widow was dazed. Then she said, "I don't know what Iwas lookin' for, but it wasn't anything so good as this. 'Twas GineralBrady got you the place, was it?"

"It was, mother. "

"I knowed it. He's the man to be loike. " She looked around upon hersons, and then she said, "I want all my b'ys to remimber that it'shonorable empl'yment to do anything in the world for Gineral Brady andMrs. Gineral Brady, too. The toime may come when you can do some bigthing for 'em, but the toime's roight here when you can sweep and cookand wash dishes for 'em, and make 'em aisy and comfortable, and solingthen out their days. Moike goin' to the store gives Andy a chance toshow that the O'Callaghans knows how to be grateful. And, Moike, you'llbe takin' home another goose for 'em when you go. A goose ain't much, but it shows what I'd do if I had the chance. And that's all that makesa prisint seem good anyway--jist to know that the giver's heart is warmtoward you. "

She paused and then went on, "Well, well, and that's what Pat was kapin'still about at supper toime. I could see that he knowed somethin' thathe wouldn't tell. He'd be givin' you the chance to bring your own goodnews, Moike, do you see? Pat's the b'y to give other folks the chancesas is their due. There's them that fond of gabblin' and makin' a stirthat they'd have told it thimsilves, but sure O'Callaghan ain't theirname. "

At this every face grew bright, for even Barney and Tommie saw that noundue praise of Pat was meant, but that, as O'Callaghans, they were allheld incapable of telling other people's stories, and they lifted theirheads up. All but Larry who, with sleepily drooping crown, was thatmoment taken up and prepared for bed. 

"And now, Moike, " said Mrs. O'Callaghan when Larry had been disposed of, "'tis fitting you should sit to-night in the father's chair. Sit youdown in it. "

"Not I, mother, " responded the gallant Mike. "Sit you in it, and 'twillbe all the same as if I sat there myself. "

"Well, well, Moike, " said the widow with a pleased smile. "Have it yourown way. Kape on tryin' to spoil your mother with kindness. 'Tissomethin' you larned from your father, and I'll not be denyin' it makesmy heart loight. "

And then the talk went on to Andy's promotion to General Brady'skitchen. 

"Andy and me won't be a team then, " put in little Jim. "I'll run thingsmyself. I guess I can cook. "

"Well said, Jim!" cried his mother. "To be sure you can cook--whenyou've larned how. There's them that takes to cookin' by nature, I'veheard, but I've niver seen any of 'em. There's rules to iverything, andiverybody must larn 'em. For 'tis the rule that opens the stingy hand, and shuts a bit the ginerous wan, and so kapes all straight. "

But little Jim turned a deaf ear to his mother's wisdom. He was thinkingwhat wonderful dishes he would concoct, and how often they would havepudding. Pudding was Jim's favorite food, and something seldom seen onthe widow's table. Little Jim resolved to change the bill of fare, andto go without pudding only when he must. He could not hope to put hisplans into operation for many months to come, however; so, with a sigh, he opened his eyes and ears again to what was passing around him, andwas just in time to see Barney and Tommie marching to bed an hour laterthan usual. They had been permitted to sit up till half-past eight inhonor of Mike's good fortune. Had their mother known all, they mighthave stayed in the kitchen engaged in the difficult task of keepingtheir eyes open at least an hour longer. But they were fast enoughasleep in their bed when Pat came gaily in. 

"Ah, Pat, my b'y, you kept still at supper toime famous, so you did, butthe news is out, " began Mrs. O'Callaghan. "It's Moike that's in luck, and sure he desarves it. "

"That he does, mother, " agreed Pat heartily. "But will you say the samefor me if I tell you something?"

The widow regarded him anxiously. There could not be bad news! "Out withit quick, Pat!" she cried. 

"Well, then, mother, " said Pat with mock resignation in his tone and asparkle of fun in his eye, "I'm to have forty dollars a month. "

"Forty dollars!" repeated the mother. "Forty dollars! That's theGineral's doin's again. B'ys, I'd be proud to see any wan of you crawlon your knees to sarve the Gineral. Look at all he's done for us, and usdoin' nothin' to desarve it, only doin' our best. "

And there were tears in the widow's eyes. 

"But, mother, " resumed Pat, "'tis yourself has the bad luck. "

"And what do you mean, Pat?"

"You've lost another wash place to-night. "

Mrs. O'Callaghan smiled. "Are you sure of it?" she asked. 

"I am, " was the determined answer. 

"Have it your own way. You and Moike are headstrong b'ys, so you are. Ifyou kape on I'll have nothin' to do but to sit with my hands folded. Andthat's what your father was always plazed to see me do. "

The two brothers exchanged glances of satisfaction, while Andy lookedwistfully on and little Jim frowned jealously. 

"Now, mother, " said Pat, "I've the thought for you. It came to me to-dayin the store. 'Tis the best thought ever I had. Andy's going tocollege. "

The delicate boy started. How had Pat divined the wish of his heart?

"'Tis Andy that will make us all proud, if only he can go to college, "concluded this unselfish oldest brother. 

The widow glanced at the lit-up countenance and eager eyes of her thirdson, and, loth to rouse hopes that might later have to be dashed down, observed, "Thim colleges are ixpinsive, I belave. "

Andy's face clouded with anxiety. There must be a chance for him, or Patwould not have spoken with so much certainty. 

"They may be, " replied Pat, "but Andy will have Mike on one side of himand me on the other, and we'll make it all right. "

"That we will, " cried Mike enthusiastically. "By the time he needs to goI'll be making forty dollars a month myself, and little Jim will beearning for himself. "

Sturdy Mike as he spoke cast an encouraging look on his favoritebrother, who laid by his frown and put on at once an air of importance. 

"I'm goin' to be a foightin' man loike the Gineral, " he announcedpompously. 

"Well, well, " cried the widow. "I'm gettin' old fast. You'll all begrowed up in a few minutes. "

And then they all laughed. 

But presently the mother said, "Thank God for brothers as is brothers. Andy is goin' to college sure. "

CHAPTER XVIII

Summer time came again. The stove went out into the airy kitchen, and alarger flock of geese squawked in the weeds and ditches. Again Andy andJim drove the cows, Andy of a morning with a dreamy stroll, and Jim ofan evening with a strut that was intended for a military gait. Who hadtold little Jim of West Point, the family did not know. But he had beentold by somebody. 

And his cows were to him as a battalion to be commanded. The Generalused to watch him from his front veranda with a smile. Somewhere Jim hadpicked up the military salute, and he never failed to honor the Generalwith it as he strutted past with his cows. And always the old soldierresponded with an amused look in his eyes which Jim was too far away tosee, even if he had not been preoccupied with his own visions. Jim waspast ten now, and not much of a favorite with other boys. But he was aprime favorite with himself. 

"West P'int, " mused Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Let him go there if he can. 'Twill be better than gettin' to be an agitator. "

The widow continued her musings and finally she asked, "Where is WestP'int, Jim?"

"It's where they make foightin' men out of boys. "

"Is it far from here?"

"I don't know. I can get there anyway. " His mother looked at him and shesaw pugnacity written all over him. His close-cropped red hair, whichwas of a beautiful shade and very thick, stood straight on end all overhis head. His very nature seemed belligerent. 

"The trouble with you, Jim, " she said, "is that you'd iver go foightin'in toimes of peace. Foight when foightin's to be done, and the rest ofthe toime look plissant loike the Gineral. "

"I ain't foightin' in times of peace any more, " responded little Jimconfidentially. "I ain't licked a boy for three weeks. Mebbe I won'tlick any one all summer. "

His mother sighed. "I should hope you wouldn't, Jim, " she said. "'Tisn'tgintlemanly to be lickin' any wan with your fist. "

"And what would I be lickin' 'em with?" inquired Jim wonderingly. 

"You're not to be lickin' 'em at all. Hear to me now, Jim, and don't bethe only wan of your father's b'ys I'll have to punish. Wait till youget to your West P'int, and larn when and where to foight. Will you, Jim?"

Little Jim reflected. The request seemed a reasonable one, and so "Iwill, " said he. 

Evening after evening he drove the cows and gave his commands at thecorners of the streets. And the cows plodded on, swinging their tails tobrush the flies away from their sides, stopping here and there where amouthful of grass might be picked up, stirring the dust in dry weatherwith their dragging feet, and sinking hoof-deep in the mud when therehad been rain. But always little Jim was the commander--even when therain soaked him and ran in rills from his hat brim. 

On rainy mornings Andy, wearing rubber boots and a rubber coat andcarrying an umbrella, picked his way along, following his obedientcharges to the pasture gate. But little Jim liked to have bare legs andfeet and to feel the soft mud between his toes, and the knowledge thathe was getting wetter and wetter was most satisfactory to him. At homethere was always a clean shirt and a pair of cottonade pantaloonswaiting for him, and nothing but a "Well, Jim!" by way of reproof. 

"File right!" little Jim would cry, or "File left!" as the case mightbe. And when the street corner was turned, "Forward!"

All this circumstance and show had its effect on the two small Mortonboys and at last, on a pleasant June evening, they began to mock him. 

Jim stood it silently for a quarter of a second, while his face grewred. Then he burst out, "I'd lick both of you, if I was sure this was awhere or when to foight!"

His persecutors received this information with delight, and repeated itafterward to their older brother with many chuckles. 

"Lucky for you!" was his answer. "He can whip any boy in town of yoursize. " Whereat the little fellows grew sober, and recognized the factthat some scruple of Jim's not understood by them had probably savedthem unpleasant consequences of their mockery. 

Jim's ambition, in due time, came to the ears of General Brady, and verysoon thereafter the old soldier, who had now taken the whole O'Callaghanfamily under his charge, contrived to meet the boy. 

"Jim, " said he, "I hear you're quite set on West Point. I also hear thatyou did not stand well in your classes last year. I advise you to studyhard hereafter. "

Jim touched his hat in military style. "What's larnin' your lessons gotto do with bein' a foightin' man, sir?" he asked respectfully. 

"A great deal, my boy. If you ever get to West Point you will have tostudy here, and you will have to go to school there besides. "

Jim sighed. "You can't get to be nothin' you want to be without doin' alot you don't want to do, " he said despondently. "I was goin' to have abank loike you, sir, but my mother said the first steps to it wasdustin' and dishwashin', so I give up the notion. "

The General laughed and little Jim went his way, but he remembered theGeneral's words. As the summer waned and the time for school approachedthe cows heard no more "File right! File left! Forward!" Little Jim hadno love for study and he drove with a "Hi, there! Get along with you!"But it was all one to the cows. And so his dreams of West Point faded. He began to study the cook book, for now Andy was to go to GeneralBrady's, and on two days of the week he was to make the family happywith his puddings. Mrs. O'Callaghan, having but two days out now, haddecided to do the cooking herself on those days when she was at home. 

But never a word said little Jim to his mother on the subject ofpuddings. "I can read just how to make 'em. I'll not be botherin' her, "he thought. "Pat and Mike is always wantin' her to take it aisy. She cantake it aisy about the puddin', so she can. "

The week before school began his mother had given him some instructionsof a general character on cooking and sweeping and bed-making. "I'm homeso much, Jim, " she told him, "that I'll let you off with makin' the bedwhere you're to slape with Mike. That you must make so's to be larnin'how. "

"Wan bed's not much, " said little Jim airily. 

"See that you makes it good then, " was the answer. 

"And don't you be burnin' the steak nor soggin' the potatoes, " was herparting charge when she went to her washing on Monday, the first day ofschool. 

"Sure and I won't, " was the confident response. "I know how to cooksteak and potatoes from watchin' Andy. "

That night after school little Jim stepped into Mr. Farnham's store. "I'm needin' a few raisins for my cookin', " he said to Pat. 

Pat looked surprised, but handed him the money and little Jim struttedout. 

"What did Jim want?" asked Mike when he had opportunity. 

"Raisins for his cooking. " And both brothers grinned. 

"I'll just be doin' the hardest first, " said little Jim as, havingreached home, he tossed off his hat, tied on his apron, and washed hishands. "And what's that but the puddin'?"

He slapped the pudding dish out on the table, opened his paper ofraisins, ate two or three just to be sure they were good, and thenhastily sought the cook book. It opened of itself at the pudding page, which little Jim took to be a good omen. "Puddin's the thing, " he said. 

"Now how much shall I make? Barney and Tommie is awful eaters when itcomes to somethin' good, and so is Larry. I'd ought to have enough. "

He read over the directions. 

"Seems to me this receipt sounds skimpin', " was his comment. "Somethin'sgot to be done about it. Most loike it wasn't made for a big family, butfor a little wan loike General Brady's. "

He ate another raisin. 

"A little puddin's just nothin', " he said. "I'll just put in what thereceipt calls for, and as much more of everything as it seems to need. "

Busily he measured and stirred and tasted, and with every taste moresugar was added, for little Jim liked sweets. At last it was ready forthe oven, even down to the raisins, which had been picked from theirstems and all unwashed and unstoned cast into the pudding basin. Andnever before had that or any other pudding dish been so full. If Jim somuch as touched it, it slopped over. 

"And sure and that's because the puddin' dish is too little, " heremarked to himself. "They'll have to be gettin' me a bigger wan. Andhow long will it take it to bake, I wonder? Till it's done, of course. "

He turned to the stove, which was now in the house again, and the firewas out. 

"Huh!" exclaimed little Jim. "I'll soon be makin' a fire. "

He rushed for the kindling, picking out a swimming raisin as he ran. "They'll see the difference between Andy's cookin' and mine, I'mthinkin'. Dustin' and dishwashin'! Just as if I couldn't cook with thebest of them!"

The sugar was sifted over the table, his egg-shells were on the floor, and a path of flour led to the barrel when, three-quarters of an hourlater, the widow stepped in. But there was a roaring fire and thepudding was baking. 

"Well, Jim, " cried his mother, "'tis a big fire you've got, sure. But Idon't see no potatoes a-cookin'. "

Jim looked blank. He had forgotten the potatoes. He had been so busycoaling up the fire. 

"Run and get 'em, " directed his mother. "There's no toime for palin''em. We'll have to b'ile 'em with their jackets on. "

But there was no time even for that, for Pat and Mike came in to supperand could not be kept waiting. 

Hastily the widow got the dishpan and washed off the sticky table, andher face, as Jim could see, was very sober. Then, while Jim set thetable, Pat fried the steak and Mike brushed up the flour from the floor. 

And now a burnt smell was in the air. It was not the steak. It seemed toseep out of the oven. 

"Open the oven door, Jim, " commanded Mrs. O'Callaghan, after onecritical sniff. 

[Illustration: "Open the oven door, Jim. "]

The latest cook of the O'Callaghans obeyed, and out rolled a cloud ofsmoke. The pudding had boiled over and flooded the oven bottom. PoorJim!

"What's in the oven, Jim? Perhaps you'll be tellin' us, " said his mothergravely. 

"My puddin', " answered little Jim, very red in the face. 

At the word pudding the faces of Barney and Tommie and Larry, who hadcome in very hungry, lit up. But at the smell they clouded again. Apudding lost was worse than having no pudding to begin with. For to losewhat is within reach of his spoon is hard indeed for any boy to bear. 

"And what was it I told you to be cookin' for supper?" asked the widowwhen they had all sat down to steak and bread and butter, leaving thedoors and windows wide open to let out the pudding smoke. 

But little Jim did not reply and his downcast look was in such contrastto his erect hair, which no failure of puddings could down, that Pat andMike burst out laughing. The remembrance of the raisins little Jim hadso pompously asked for was upon them, too. And even Mrs. O'Callaghansmiled. 

"Was it steak and potatoes I told you to be cookin'?" she persisted. 

Little Jim nodded miserably. 

"I'll not be hard on you, Jim, " said his mother, "for I see you'reashamed of yourself, and you ought to be, too. But I'll say this to you;them that cooks puddin's when they're set to cook steak and potatoes isloike to make a smoke in the world, and do themsilves small credit. Let's have no more puddin's, Jim, till I give you the word. "

That was all there was of it. But Jim had lost his appetite for pudding, and it was long before it returned to him. 

CHAPTER XIX

There were three to sit by the kitchen stove now and talk of an eveningfrom half-past nine till ten, and they were the widow and Pat and Mike. 

"It's Andy that makes me astonished quite, " observed Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Here it is the first of December and him three months at GineralBrady's and gettin' fat on it. He niver got fat to home, and that's whatbates me. "

"Well, mother, he's got a nice big room by himself to sleep in. ThePhysiology's down on crowding, and five boys in one bedroom ain't goodfor a nervous boy like Andy. "

"Nor it ain't good for the rest of you, nayther, " responded Mrs. O'Callaghan, with conviction. 

"What do you say, b'ys? Shall we ask the landlord to put us on anotherroom in the spring? He'll raise the rint on us if he does. "

The widow regarded her sons attentively, and they, feeling the proudresponsibility of being consulted by their mother, answered as she wouldhave them. 

"Then that's settled, " said she. "The more room, the more rint. Anylandlord can see that--a lawyer, anyway. Do you think, b'ys, Andy'll bea lawyer when he comes from college?"

"Why, mother?" asked Pat. 

"'Cause I don't want him to be. He ain't got it in him to be comin' downhard and sharp on folks, and so he won't be a good wan. He'll be at thelaw loike little Jim at puddin's. You niver was to coort, was you, b'ys?"

Pat and Mike confessed that they had never been at court. 

"I knowed you hadn't. I jist asked you. Well, you see, b'ys, themlawyers gets the witnesses up and asks 'em all sorts of impudentquestions, and jist as good as tells 'em they lies quite often. Andycouldn't niver do the loikes of that. 'Tain't in him. Do you know, b'ys, folks can't do what ain't in 'em, no matter if they do go to college. Now little Jim's the wan for a lawyer. He'd be the wan to make a manforget his own name, and all on account of impudent questions. "

Pat and Mike looked surprised. They were both fond of little Jim, Mikeparticularly so. 

"I see you wonders at me, but little Jim's a-worryin' me. I don't knowwhat to be doin' with him. B'ys, would you belave it? I can't teach hima thing. Burn the steak he will if I lave him with it, and Moike knowsthe sort of a bed he makes. He's clane out of the notion of that WestP'int and bein' a foightin' man, and the teacher's down on him at theschool for niver larnin' his lessons. And the fear's with me night andday that he'll get to be wan of them agitators yet. "

Pat and Mike looked at each other. Never before had their mother said aword to them about any of their brothers. And while they looked at eachother the brave little woman kept her eyes fixed on the stove. 

"The first step to bein' an agitator, " she resumed as if half toherself, "is niver to be doin' what you're set to do good. Then, ofcourse, them you work for don't loike it, and small blame to 'em. Andthe nixt thing is to get turned off and somebody as _will_ do itgood put in your place. And then the nixt step is to go around tellin'iverybody you meets, whether you knows 'em or not, how you're down onyour luck. And how it's a bad world with no chance in it for poor folks, when iverybody knows most of the rich folks begun poor, and if there'sno chance for poor folks, how comes them that's rich now to be rich whenthey started poor? And then the nixt step is to make them that's contentout of humor, rilin' 'em up with wishin' for what they've got nobusiness with, seein' they hain't earned it. And that's all there is toit, for sure when you've got that far you're wan of them agitators. "

The boys listened respectfully, and their mother went on: "Little Jim'sgot started that way. He's that far along that he don't do nothin' goodhe's set at only when it's a happen so. You can't depind on him. I'vegot to head him off from bein' an agitator, for he's your father's b'y, and I can't meet Tim in the nixt world if I let Jim get ahead of me. B'ys, will you help me? I've always been thinkin' I couldn't have yourhelp; I must do it alone. But, b'ys, I can't do it alone. " The littlewoman's countenance was anxious as she gazed into the sober faces of Patand Mike. 

Nothing but boys themselves, though with the reliability of men, theypromised to help. 

"I knowed you would, " said the widow gratefully. "And now good night toyou. It's gettin' late. But you've eased my moind wonderful. Just thespakin' out has done me good. Maybe he'll come through all roight yet. "

The next morning Mrs. O'Callaghan rose with a face bright as ever, butPat and Mike were still sober. 

"Cheer up!" was her greeting as they came into the kitchen where she wasalready bustling about the stove. "Cheer up, and stand ready till I giveyou the word. I'm goin' to have wan more big try at Jim. You took such aload off me with your listenin' to me and promisin' to help that it'sheartened me wonderful. "

The two elder sons smiled. To be permitted to hearten their mother wasto them a great privilege, and suddenly little Jim did not appear thehopeless case he had seemed when they went to bed the night before. Theycheered up, and the three were pleasantly chatting when sleepy-eyedlittle Jim came out of the bedroom. 

"Hurry, now, and get washed, and then set your table, " said his motherkindly. 

But little Jim was sulky. 

"I'm tired of gettin' up early mornin's just to be doin' girl's work, "he said. 

Mrs. O'Callaghan nodded significantly at Pat and Mike. "What was thatstory, Moike, you was tellin' me about the smartest fellow in theGineral's mess, before he got to be a gineral, you know, bein' so handyat all sorts of woman's work? Didn't you tell me the Gineral said therecouldn't no woman come up to him?"

"I did, mother. "

"I call that pretty foine. Beatin' the women at their own work. Therewas only wan man in the mess that could do it, you said?"

"Yes, mother, " smiled Mike. 

"I thought so. 'Tain't often you foind a rale handy man loike that. Andhe was the best foighter they had, too?"

"Yes, mother. "

"I thought I remimbered all about it. Jim, here, can foight, but dowoman's work he can't. That is, and do it good. He mostly gets thetablecloth crooked. No, he's no hand at the girl's work. "

"I'll show you, " thought little Jim. On a sudden the tablecloth wasstraight, and everything began to take its proper place on the table. 

"Mother, " ventured Pat, though he had not yet received the word, "thetable's set pretty good this morning. "

"So it is, Pat, so it is, " responded the widow glancing it over. 

"Maybe Jim can do girl's work after all. "

"Maybe he can, Pat, but he'll have to prove it before he'll foind themthat'll belave it. That's the way in this world. 'Tis not enough to besayin' you can do this and that. You've got to prove it. And how willyou prove it? By doin' it, of course. "

Little Jim heard, though he did not seem to be listening, being intenton making things uncomfortable for Barney and Tommie as far as he couldin a quiet way. 

It was a passion with little Jim to prove things--not by his mother'smethod, but by his own. So far his disputes had been with boys of hisown size and larger, and if they doubted what he said he was in thehabit of proving his assertions with his fists. The result was thatother boys either dodged him or agreed with him with suspiciousreadiness. His mother had given him a fair trial at the housework. Hewould prove to her that it was not because he could not, but because hewould not, that he succeeded no better. He washed the dishes with careand put them shining on their shelves, and, a little later, poked hishead out of the bedroom door into the kitchen. 

"Mother, " he said, "you think I can't make a bed good, don't you?"

The widow smiled. "I think you _don't_ make it good, " was heranswer. 

Jim's face darkened with resolution. "She thinks I can't, " he said tohimself. "I will, I guess. "

With vim he set to work, and the bed was made in a trice. Little Jimstood off as far as he could and sharply eyed his work. "'Tain't donegood, " he snapped. And he tore it to pieces again. It took longer tomake it the next time, for he was more careful, but still it didn't lookright. He tore the clothes off it again, this time with a sigh. "Beds isawful, " he said. "It's lots easier to lick a boy than to make a bed. "And then he went at it again. The third time it was a trifle morepresentable, and the school bell was ringing. 

"I've got to go, and I hain't proved it to her, " he said. "But I'll worktill I do, see if I don't. And then when I have proved it to her I won'tmake no more beds. "

Jim was no favorite at school, where he had fallen a whole room behindthe class he had started with. His teacher usually wore a long-sufferingair when she dealt with him. 

"She looks like she thought I didn't know nothin' and never would, " hesaid to himself that morning when he had taken his seat after a decidedfailure of a recitation. "I'll show her. " And he set to work. His mindwas all unused to study, and--that day he didn't show her. 

"Who'd 'a' thought it was so hard to prove things?" he said at night. "There's another day a-comin', though. "

Now some people are thankful for showing. To little Jim, showing wasdegrading. Suddenly his mother perceived this, and felt a relief she hadnot known before. 

"Whativer else Jim's got or not got, " she said, "he's got a backbone ofhis own, so he has. Let him work things out for himsilf. Will I beshowin' him how to make a bed? I won't that. I've been praisin' him toomuch, intoirely. I see it now. Praise kapes Pat and Moike and Andy doin'their best to get more of it. But it makes little Jim aisy in his moindand scornful loike, so his nose is in the air all the toime and nothin'done. A very little praise will do Jim. And still less offault-findin', " she added. 

"B'ys, " she announced that evening "Jim's took a turn. We'll stand offand watch him a bit. If he'll do roight for his own makin', sure andthat'll be better than for us to be havin' a hand in it. Give him hishead and plinty of chances to prove things, and when he has proved 'em, own up to it. "

The two brightened. "I couldn't believe little Jim was so bad, mother, "said Mike. 

"Bad, is it? Sure and he ain't bad yet. And now's the toime to kape himfrom it. 'Tis little you can be doin' with a spoiled anything. Would youbelave it? He made his bed three toimes this mornin' and done his bestat it, and me a-seein' him through the crack of the door where it wasopen a bit. But I can't say nothin' to him nor show him how, forshowin's not for the loike of him. And them that takes iverything hardthat way comes out sometimes at the top of the hape. Provin' things is alawyer's business. If Jim iver gets to be a lawyer, he'll be a goodwan. "

Mike, when he went to bed that night, looked down at the small red headof the future lawyer, snuggled down into the pillow, with the bedclothesclose to his ears. "I'll not believe that Jim will ever come to harm, "he said. 

CHAPTER XX

"There's another day comin', " little Jim had said when he lay down inacknowledged defeat on the night that followed his first day of realtrying. The other day came, and after it another and another, and stillothers till the first of March was at hand. In the three months, whichwas the sum of those "other days, " Jim had made good progress. For manyweeks he had been perfect in the art of bed-making, but instead ofgiving up the practice of that accomplishment, as he had declared hewould do so soon as he could prove to his mother that he could make abed, he had become so cranky and particular that nobody else could makea bed to suit him. And as for studying--he was three classes ahead ofwhere the first of December had found him. He could still whip any boyrash enough to encounter him, but his days and even his evenings, ingreat part, were given to preparing a triumph over his mates in hislessons, and a surprise for his teacher. 

The widow used to lean back in her husband's chair of an evening andwatch him as he sat at the table, his elbows on the pine and his handsclutching his short hair, while the tiny, unshaded lamp stared in hisface, and he dug away with a pertinacity that meant and insured success. 

"And what book is that you've got?" she would ask when he occasionallylifted his eyes. He would tell her and, in a moment, be lost to allsurroundings. For little Jim was getting considerable enjoyment out ofhis hard work. 

"Pat nor Moike niver studied loike that, " thought Mrs. O'Callaghan. "Nordid even Andy. Andy, he always jist loved his book and took his larnin'in aisy loike. But look at that little Jim work!" As for little Jim, hedid not seem to observe that he was enjoying his mother's favorableregard. 

"And what book is it you loike the best?" she asked one evening when Jimwas about to go to bed. 

"The history book, " was the answer. 

"And why?"

"'Cause there's always a lot about the big foightin' men in it. "

[Illustration: "'Look at that little Jim work!'"]

"Ah!" said the widow. "Andy, he loiked the history book best, too. But Ididn't know before 'twas for the foightin'. "

"'Tain't, " briefly replied little Jim. And seeing his mother'squestioning look he went on: "The history book's got a lot in it, too, about the way the people lived, and the kings and queens, and them thatwrote poems and things. 'Tis for that Andy loikes the history book. He'll be writin' himself one of these days, I'm thinkin'. His teachersays he writes the best essays in the school already. "

And having thus artlessly betrayed Andy's ambition, little Jim went tobed. 

"Ah!" thought the widow, getting out her darning, for only one could usethe lamp at a time, and if Jim was of a mind to study she was of no mindto hinder him. "And is that what Andy'd be at? I wonder now if that's agood business? I don't know none of them that has it, and I can't tell. "She drew one of Jim's stockings over her hand and eyed ruminatingly theprodigious hole in the heel. "That b'y do be gettin' through hisstockin's wonderful, " she said dismissing Andy from her thoughts. "Well, if he niver does no worse than that I'll not be complainin', but sureand he can make more darnin' than Pat and Moike and Andy put together. "

Why are the winds of March so high? This spring they blew a gale. Asthey roared around corners and through tree tops and rushed down thestreets with fury they made pedestrians unsteady. But they did notdisturb little Jim, who buttoned up his coat tight, drew down his hatand squared his shoulders as he went out to meet their buffets. Therewas that in little Jim that rejoiced in such weather. 

One day those frantic winds reached down the big schoolhouse chimney anddrew up a spark of fire from the furnace in the basement. They lodged itwhere it would do the most harm, and, in a short time, the janitor wasrunning with a white face to the principal's office. As quietly aspossible each teacher was called out into the hall and warned. And, in afew moments more, the pupils in every room were standing in marchingorder waiting for the word to file out. Something was wrong each roomknew from the face of its teacher. And then came the clang of the firebell, and the waiting ranks were terrified. 

Little Jim's teacher on the second floor was an extremely nervous youngwoman. In a voice that trembled with fright and excitement she hadmanaged to give her orders. She had stationed most of the boys in a linerunning north and south and farthest from the door. Nearest the doorwere the girls and some of the smaller boys. And now they must wait forthe signal that should announce the turn of their room to march out. Asit happened, little Jim stood at the head of the line of boys, with thegirls not far from him. The fire bell was ringing and all the whistlesin the town screaming. Below them they could hear the little oneshurried out; above them and on the stairs the third-floor pupilsmarching; and then in little Jim's room there was panic. The girlshuddled closer together and began to cry. The boys behind little Jimbegan to crowd and push. The nearest boy was against him when little Jimhalf turned and threw him back to place by a vigorous jerk of his elbow. 

"Boys! Boys!" screamed the teacher. "Standstill!"

But they did not heed. Again they struggled forward, while the teachercovered her face with her hands in horror at the thought of what wouldhappen on the crowded stairways if her boys rushed out. 

And then little Jim turned his back on the door and the girls near himand made ready his fists. "The first boy that comes I'll knock down!" hecried. And the line shrank back. 

"We'll be burned! We'll be burned up!" shrieked a boy, one of thefarthest away. 

"You won't be burned nayther, " called back little Jim. "But you'll wishyou was to-morrow if wan of you gets past me. Just you jump them desksand get past me and I'll lick you till you'll wish you was burnt up!"

Little Jim's aspect was so fierce, and the boys knew so well that hewould do just as he said, that not one moved from his place. One minutelittle Jim held that line of boys. Then the door opened and out filedthe girls. When the last one had disappeared little Jim stepped aside. "Go out now, " he said with fine contempt, "you that are so afraid you'llget burned yourselves that you'd tramp the girls down. "

The last to leave the room were the teacher and little Jim. Her grasp onhis arm trembled, but it did not let go, even when they had reached thecampus which was full of people. Every business man had locked his doorsand had run with his clerks to the fire. For this was no ordinary fire. The children of the town were in danger. At a distance Jim could see Patwith Larry in his arms and Barney and Tommie close beside him, and hereand there, moving anxiously through the crowd, he saw General Brady andMike and Andy. But the teacher's grasp on his arm did not relax. Thefire was under control now and no damage had been done that could not berepaired. And the teacher was talking. And everybody near was listening, and more were crowding around and straining their ears to hear. Thosenearest were passing the story on, a sentence at a time, after themanner of interpreters, and suddenly there was a shout, "Three cheersfor little Jim O'Callaghan!"

[Illustration "'Three cheers for little Jim O'Callaghan. '"]

And then Mike came tearing up and gave him a hug and a pat on the back. And up came Andy with a look in his eyes that made little Jim forgivehim on the spot for being first in that housework team in which hehimself had been placed second by his mother. And the General had him bythe hand with a "Well done, Jim!" At which Jim appeared a triflebewildered. His fighting propensities had been frowned on so long. 

At her wash place the widow had heard nothing, the wind having carriedall sounds of commotion the other way, and there were no children in thefamily to come unexpectedly home bringing the news. It was when shestepped into her own kitchen, earlier than usual, and found Barney andTommie there with Larry, who had accompanied them that day as visitor, that she first heard of the fire. And the important thing to Barney andTommie was that their vacation had come sooner than they had hoped. Later came Jim, stepping high from the General's praise. But his motherthought nothing of that. Jim's ways were apt to be airy. 

But when Pat and Mike came to supper the story was told. The widowlistened with an expression of pride. And when the story and the supperwere finished she took little Jim by the hand and led him along thetortuous path through the furniture to the family seat of honor. "Sitthere in the father's chair, " she commanded. "I niver thought to beputtin' wan of my b'ys there for foightin', but foightin's the thingsometimes. "

This was on Tuesday. The next day the leading paper of the town cameout, and it contained a full account of little Jim's coolness andbravery. 

"They'll be spoilin' little Jim, so they will, " said the widow as sheread with glistening eyes. Then she rose to put the paper carefully awayamong the few family treasures, and set about making little Jim awonderful pudding. If he were to be spoiled she might as well have ahand in it. "Though maybe he won't be nayther, " she said. "Him that hadthat much sinse had ought to have enough to stand praisin'. "

That evening home came Andy to find his mother absorbed in thefascinating occupation of hearing from little Jim's own lips what eachindividual person had said to him during the day. 

"Well, " little Jim was saying just as Andy came in, "I should thinkthey'd said 'most enough. I didn't do anything but keep them lubberlyboys from trampin' the girls down, and it was easy enough done, too. "

At which speech the widow perceived that, as yet, little Jim was notparticularly spoiled by all his praise. "'Twas the history book thatdone it, " thought the mother thankfully. "Sure and he knows he's donefoine, but he ain't been braggin' on himself much since he took to that, I've noticed. There's books of all sorts, so there is, some for wanthing and some for another, but it's the history book that cures theconsate. "

"We're very busy up at our house, " observed Andy. And the widow couldscarcely bring herself to heed him. 

"Yes, " went on Andy. "We've been baking cake to-day, and there's more todo to-morrow. The General and Mrs. Brady are going to give little Jim aparty Friday evening. General Brady is wonderfully pleased with Jim. "

Then indeed he had his mother's attention. "A party, is it?" she saidwith gratified pride. "'Tis the Gineral and Mrs. Brady that knows how totake a body's full cup and jist run it over. I couldn't have wishednothin' no better than that. And nobody couldn't nayther. I'll be upto-morrow mysilf to help and the nixt day, too. Don't tell me there'snothin' I can't be doin'. Jim can run things to home, can't you, Jim?"

Little Jim thought he could. 

"I'll have Pat and Moike see to gettin' him a new suit to-morrow. It'slate to be gettin' him a new suit and him a-growin'; but if he can'twear it nixt fall Barney can, and it's proud he'll be to do it, I'mthinkin'. 'Tisn't often the nixt youngest b'y has a chance to wear a newsuit got for his brother because he done good and hadn't nothin' fit towear to a party, nayther. But Wennott's the town. A party for my Jim, and at Gineral Brady's, too! Would anybody have belaved it when we comewith nothin' to the shanty? 'Tis the proudest thing that iver come tous, but no pride could there be about it if little Jim hadn't desarvedit. "

The widow's heart was full. "Ivery b'y? as he has come along, has mademe proud, " she went on. "First Pat and then Moike and then you, Andy, with your book, and now little Jim with his foightin'. And that's whatbeats me, that I should be proud of my b'y's foightin'. And I am that. "

Friday evening seemed a long way off to little Jim when he lay down onhis bed that night. He had never attended a party in his life. Andy hadspoken of cake, and, by private questioning, little Jim had discoveredthat there would be ice cream. He tried to imagine what a party waslike, but having no knowledge to go on, he found the effort wearisomeand so dropped asleep. 

CHAPTER XXI

Little Jim had never been farther than General Brady's kitchen. It was akitchen of which he approved because it had no path in it. One might gothrough it in a great hurry without coming to grief on some chair back, or the footboard of the mother's bed, or the rocker of the father'schair. Neither was one in danger of bringing up suddenly on the cornerof the table, or against the side of the stove. The younger O'Callaghanswere free from numerous bruises only because they knew their way andproceeded with caution. There was no banging the door open suddenly atthe shanty, because there was always some article of furniture behindthe door to catch it and bang it back sharply into a boy's face. It wasupon these differences in the two kitchens that little Jim reflectedwhen, arrayed in the new suit, he slipped around the house and wasushered in by Andy. 

"What's this!" cried the General, who had caught a glimpse of theswiftly scudding little figure as it rounded the corner. "What's this!"and he stood smiling at the door that opened from the back of the hallinto the kitchen. "The hero of the hour coming in by the back door. Thiswill never do, Jim. Come with me. "

Bravely little Jim went forward. He stepped into the hall close behindthe General, and suddenly glanced down. He could hardly believe hisears. Was he growing deaf? There walked the General ahead of him, andlittle Jim could not hear a footfall, neither could he hear his owntread. 

But little Jim said nothing. They were now come to the hall tree, andthe General himself helped his guest off with his overcoat and hung itbeside his own. And as for little Jim, he could hang up his own cap whenhis host showed him where. 

Then in through the parlor door they went and on through the foldingdoors into the sitting-room where Mrs. Brady stood among her plants. Shehad just cut two lovely roses from the same bush, and one she pinned onher husband's coat and the other on little Jim's jacket. 

"Parties is queer, " thought little Jim, "but they're nice. "

For Mrs. Brady, in her quiet way, was contriving to let the boyunderstand that she thought exceedingly well of him. It began to growdusk, but it was not yet so dark that little Jim failed to see Pat andMike come in and run lightly up the stairs. And then there was a trampof feet outside, the doorbell rang, and as the electric light floodedthe house, Andy opened the front door and in trooped boys and girls. 

Little Jim was amazed. Not one came into the parlor, but Andy sent themall upstairs. 

"Is them boys and girls the party?" he asked quickly of Mrs. Brady. 

"Yes, Jim, " was the kind answer. "Your party. "

Little Jim reflected. "I'd best not be lickin' any of the boys then thisevenin'?" And he turned inquiring eyes on Mrs. Brady. 

Mrs. Brady smiled. "No, Jim, " she replied. "You must try to please themin every way that you can, and make them enjoy themselves. "

"Let 'em do just as they're a moind to, and not raise a fuss about it?"

"Yes. "

Little Jim straightened himself. "I never seen no parties before, " hesaid, "but I guess I can run it. "

And then downstairs came the guests and into the parlor to shake handswith General and Mrs. Brady and Jim. The gay company spread themselvesthrough the parlor and sitting-room. They chattered, they laughed, theygot up from their seats and sat down again, and all the time little Jimhad a keen eye upon them. He had never before seen little girls dressedso, and he noticed that every boy had a flower on his jacket. 

And then little Jim bestirred himself. He was here, there, andeverywhere. Did a girl suggest a game, Jim so engineered that the wholecompany were soon engaged in it, and he himself was the gayest player ofall. Not once did he suggest anything. But often he slipped up to Mrs. Brady or the General and did what he had never done before in hislife--asked advice. 

"Am I runnin' it right?" he would whisper in Mrs. Brady's ear; andmurmur apologetically to the General, "I never seen no parties before. "

"And how do you like parties, Jim?" asked the General indulgently. 

"I think there's nothin' to equal 'em, " was the fervent answer. And thenaway went the young host. 

At half-past nine Andy appeared at the hall door. Jim saw him and hisheart sank. Was the party over? He feared so, since Mrs. Brady, followedby the General, went out of the room. But in a moment the General cameback to the doorway. The guests seemed to understand, for a sudden hushfell on the talkative tongues. The General saw Jim's uncertainexpression and beckoned to him. 

"We are going out to supper, " he said. "Go ask Annie Jamieson to walkout with you. "

Jim obeyed promptly. All at once he remembered the cake and ice cream. His heart swelled with pride as he led the pretty little girl across thehall and into the dining-room. And there were Pat and Mike and Andyshowing the guests to their places and prepared to wait upon them. Andif they beamed upon little Jim, he beamed back with interest. He wassupremely happy. How glad he was that Mike had taught him Mrs. Brady'sway of laying the table, and how to eat properly! He thought of hismother and wished that she might see him. But she was at home caring forBarney and Tommie and Larry. 

"Sure and I can't lave 'em by thimsilves in the evenin'. Somethingmoight happen to 'em, " said this faithful mother. 

Such food Jim had not tasted before, but he ate sparingly. He was toohappy to eat, for little Jim, although extremely fond of pudding, was noglutton. There he sat with his auburn hair on end, his blue eyes brightand shining, smiles and grave looks chasing themselves over his facetill the General was prouder of him than ever. 

"I'm not sure but he's _the_ O'Callaghan, " he told his wife, whenthe children had gone back to the parlor for a final game before theparty should break up. "But it is that mother of his and his olderbrothers who have brought him on. "

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Pat and Mike and Andy washed the dishes andput things to rights with three hearts full of pride in little Jim. 

"To think the mother was afraid he would turn out an agitator!" saidPat. 

"This night settles that, " responded Mike. "He's more likely to turn outa society man. He'll be a credit to us all. "

At last the guests were gone. And then for the first time little Jim'seyes examined with keen scrutiny the pretty rooms, while the General andMrs. Brady kept silence, content to observe him with affectionateinterest. Finally the boy came back from things to people, and he camewith a sigh. 

"Have you enjoyed yourself?" asked the General, smiling. 

"Yes, sir. I never had such a toime before in my loife. 'Tis parties asare the thing. " He paused and then asked, "How will I be goin' at it toget me a house like this?"

And then the General looked astonished. He had not yet fully measuredlittle Jim's ambition that stopped at nothing. Hitherto it had been thatpernicious ambition that desires, and at the same time, lazily refusesto put forth the exertion necessary to attain, or it had been that otherscarcely less reprehensible ambition that exerts itself simply tooutshine others, and Mrs. O'Callaghan had had good cause to be anxiousabout Jim. Tonight it was the right sort of ambition, backed by aremarkably strong will and boundless energy. He looked up at the Generalwith confidence and waited to be told just how he could get such a housefor himself. 

The General gazed down into the clear, unashamed depths of little Jim'sblue eyes. The attitude of the O'Callaghan's toward him always touchedhim. His money had nothing to do with it, nor had his superior socialposition. It was he himself that the O'Callaghans respected, admired, loved and venerated, and this without in the least abating their ownself-respect and independence. It was like being the head of a clan, theGeneral told himself, and he liked it. So now he answered with his handon little Jim's shoulder, "Work, my boy, and study, work and study. "

"And is that all?" questioned Jim disappointedly. "Sure and that's likemy mother tellin' me dustin' and dishwashin' was my two first steps. "

"Well, they were your first steps, Jim, because they were the dutiesthat lay nearest you. But it will take more than work and study, afterall. "

"I thought it would, sir. This is an awful nice house. "

"Would you like to walk upstairs and look about?" asked the General. 

"I would, " was the eager answer. 

So the General and Mrs. Brady and Jim went up. 

"This is the sort of a room for my mother, " declared little Jim, afterhe had carefully examined the large guest chamber. "Pat and Mike got herthe summer kitchen, but I'll be gettin' her a whole house, so I will. Sleepin' in the kitchen will do for them that likes it. And now what'sthe rest of it besides work and study?"

"Have you ever seen any poor boys smoke cigars, Jim?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And cigarettes?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And pipes?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And drink beer?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And whisky?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And chew tobacco?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Those are the boys who, when they are men, are going to be poor. Markthat, Jim. They are going to be poor. "

"They won't have any house like this?"

"Not unless somebody who has worked hard gives it to them, or unlessthey cheat for it, Jim. "

"Huh!" said Jim. "I'm down on cheatin'. I'll lick any boy that cheats meor tries to, and I don't want nobody to give me nothin'. " And with thatlittle Jim cooled down to pursue his former train of thought. 

"And if I work and study and let them things alone I can have a houselike this some day?"

"Yes, Jim, if some misfortune does not befall you, like a long sicknessin the family, or an accident to you. "

"I'm goin' to try for it, " declared Jim with decision. "Them that wouldrather have cigars and such than a nice house like this can have 'em, and it's little sense they've got, too. I'll take the house. "

The General laughed. "You will take it, Jim, I don't doubt, " he said. "Come to me whenever you wish to ask any questions, and I will answerthem if I can. "

"I will, sir, " replied little Jim. "And when you want me to I'll washyour dishes. I said once I wouldn't, but now I will. "

"Thank you, Jim, " responded the General. 

Peppery, headstrong little Jim went home that night walking very erect. Pat and Mike were one on each side of him, but he hardly knew it, he wasso busy looking forward to the time when he should have a house like theGeneral's, when his mother would pin a flower on his coat, and he shouldgive parties, and as many of them as he chose. 

[Illustration: "Pat and Mike were one on each side of him. "]

And of all these plans his mother heard with wonder and astonishment. 

"Your party's made a man of you, Jim, " said the widow at last. "I'dniver have thought of a party doin' it, nayther, though I was wantin' itdone bad. Your father was the man as loiked noice things, and he'd havegot 'em, too, if sickness hadn't come to him. "

And now little Jim's reward had come. At last his mother had said he waslike his father. He was as good as Pat and Mike and Andy, and his heartswelled. 

"But, Jim, dear, you'd be gettin' your house quicker if we was all tohelp toward it. "

"And then 'twouldn't be mine, " objected Jim. 

"No more it wouldn't, " assented Mrs. O'Callaghan, "but 'twould be betterthan livin' in the shanty years and years. You don't want to kape livin'here till you have a foine house loike the Gineral's, do you, Jim?"

"No, " reluctantly answered the little fellow, glancing about him. 

"I knowed you didn't. For sure you're not the wan to let your ambitionrun away with your sinse. A neat little house, now, with only two b'ysto a bedroom and wan bedroom for me--what do you say to it, Jim?"

Then and there it was settled, and that night each boy had a differentdream about the neat little house to be--Jim's, of course, being themost extravagant. That week the first five dollars toward it wasdeposited with the General. 

"And I'll be keepin' a sharp lookout on Barney and Tommie, " was Jim'sunasked promise to his mother. "You've no idea what little chaps smokethem cigarettes. I can fix it. I'll just be lettin' the boys know thatevery wan of 'em that helps Barney and Tommie to wan of them things willget a lickin' from me. "

"Is that the best way, do you think, Jim?"

"Sure and I know it is. I've seen them big boys givin' 'em to the littlewans, particular to them as their folks don't want to use 'em. TheGeneral's down on them things, and Barney and Tommie shan't have 'em. "

"Five dollars in the bank!" exclaimed the widow. She was surrounded byher eldest four sons, for it was seven o'clock in the morning. "Twoyears we've been in town, and them two years has put all four of youwhere I'm proud of you. All four of you has sat in the father's chairfor good deeds done. What I'm thinkin' is, will Barney and Tommie andLarry sit there, too, when their turn comes?"

"They will that!" declared Jim with authority. 

"Of course they will, mother, " encouraged Pat. 

"They are father's boys, too, " said Andy. 

"And _your_ boys, mother. Where else would your boys sit?" askedMike. 

And then the widow smiled. "I belave you'll ivery wan of you come togood, " she said. "There's small bad ahead of b'ys that has a bit ofheartsome blarney for their mother, and love in their eyes to back theirwords. Some has farms and money. But if any one would be tellin' of myriches, sure all they've got to say is, 'The Widow O'Callaghan's b'ys. '"

THE END. 

_Good Reasons for the Popularity of_

THE

Widow O'Callaghan's Boys

It has succeeded by its own sterling merit and without the assistance ofexaggerated advertising, and a popularity of this kind is alwayspermanent. The charm of the book lies in the human interest of thesympathetically told story; its value in the excellent lessons that aresuggested to the youthful mind in the most unobtrusive manner. Nothingis so distasteful to a healthy youngster as an overdose of obvious moralsuasion in his fiction. 

EXPERT TESTIMONY

_Principal Ferris, of the Ferris Institute, Michigan, expressessomewhat the same idea in a letter to the publishers_: "I bought thebook and read it myself, then read it to my ten-year-old boy. He wascaptivated. I then tried it on my school of 600 students--relativelymature people. They were delighted. 'Widow O'Callaghan's Boys' is anexceptional book. It is entirely free from the weaknesses of theordinary Sunday school book. The methods used by the Widow O'Callaghanin training her boys are good methods for training boys in the schoolroom. The truth of the matter is the book contains first-class pedagogy. There are comparatively few first-class juvenile books. 'WidowO'Callaghan's Boys' is a jewel. It is worthy of being classed asfirst-class literature. "

A. C. McCLURG & CO. PUBLISHERS

_Newspaper Opinions of_

The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys

"It is a story of sturdy, level-headed effort to meet the world on itsown rather severe terms, and to win from it success and progress. Nostrokes of miraculous good luck befall these young heroes of peace; butthey deserve what they gain, and the story is told so simply, and yetwith so much originality, that it is quite as interesting reading as arethe tales where success is won by more sensational methods. The goodsense, courage, and tact of the widow herself ought to affordinspiration to many mothers apparently more fortunately situated. It isa book to be heartily commended. "--_Christian Register_. 

"They are but simple adventures in 'The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys, ' butthey are pleasant to read of. The seven boys, whom the widow trains tobe good and useful men, are as plucky as she; and they have a good bitof Irish loyalty as well as of the Irish brogue. "--_The Dial_. 

"The brave little Irishwoman's management and encouragement of them, amid poverty and trouble, the characters of the boys themselves, theircheerfulness, courage, and patience, and the firm grip which they takeupon the lowest rounds of the ladder of success, are told simply anddelightfully. "--_Buffalo Express_. 

"The smile of pleasure at the happy ending is one that will be accompaniedby a dimness of vision in the eyes of many readers. "--_Philadelphia Press_. 

_Newspaper Opinions of_

The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys

"There is many a quaint bit of humor, many a strong, sound lesson inmanliness and womanliness which must appeal to us in the telling. Thestory was probably written for children, but it will interest olderpeople as well. "--_The Living Church_. 

"The Widow O'Callaghan is the greatest philosopher since Epictetus, andas bright and glowing as a well-cut gem. "--_Topeka Capital_. 

"The refreshing thing about the book is that its dialect approximates tothe real brogue, and is not disfigured by the affected misspelling ofEnglish words which are pronounced almost as correctly by the Irish asby one to the tongue born. "--_Detroit Journal_. 

"This is a story that will be enjoyed by readers of every age. It iscapitally written, and deals with the struggles of a brave little Irishwidow, left in poverty with seven boys, ranging in age from three tofifteen years. "--_Book News_. 

"It is one of the best books for young people which we ever have seen. It describes the mother love, the shrewd sense, and the pluckyperseverance of an Irish widow with seven young children. "--_TheCongregationalist_. 

_Another Use for_

 The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys

 The following news item from the Chicago Tribune of Nov. 7 describes a unique testimonial to the practical usefulness of a good book. "The Widow O'Callaghan's Boys, " the story referred to, is now in its eighth edition, and seems to increase in popularity constantly:

 "Barney Ryan, 12 years old and wearing a sweater twice his size, yesterday was sentenced by Judge Tuthill to read to his mother each night from a book designated by the court. The boy had been arrested for smashing a store window and stealing merchandise to the value of $200. 

 "'I'll let you go, Barney, ' said Judge Tuthill, 'if your mother will buy a copy of "Mrs. O'Callaghan's Boys" and agree to make you read to her each night from it. '

 "Mrs. Ryan, who lives at 139 Gault court, agreed to the stipulation. "