Humours of Irish Life Part 30

"G.o.d Almighty help the woman! Is it Irish at all she is--or what? To see her makin' merry because a parcel o' rascally Dutchmen----! Sure, doesn't she know 'twas Irish blood they spilt at the Boyne? An' to see her takin' pride in it turns me sick, so it does. If she was English, now, I could stand it, but she callin' herself an Irishwoman--faith, she has the bad dhrop in her, so she has, to be glad at her counthry's misforchins."

Jim's rage was the greater because Mrs. Macfarlane, whatever she said, said little or nothing to him. She pa.s.sed him by with lofty scorn and indifference affecting not to see him; and while she did many things that O'Brien found supremely annoying, they were things strictly within her rights.

Matters had not arrived at this pa.s.s all at once. The feud dated from Mrs. Macfarlane's having adopted a little black dog--a mongrel--on which she lavished a wealth of affection, and which, as the most endearing t.i.tle she knew, she named "King William." This, of course, was n.o.body's concern save Mrs. Macfarlane's own, and in a world of philosophers she would have been allowed to amuse herself unheeded, but Jim O'Brien was not a philosopher.

Unlike most Irishmen, he had a great love for flowers. His garden was beautifully kept, and he was prouder of his roses than of anything on earth save his eldest daughter, Kitty, who was nearly sixteen. Picture, then, his rage and dismay when he one day found his beds scratched into holes and his roses uprooted by "King William," who had developed a mania for hiding away bones under Jim's flowers. O'Brien made loud and angry complaints to the dog's owner, which she received with unconcern and disbelief.

"Please, Mr. O'Brien," she said, with dignity, "don't try to put it on the puir wee dog. Even if yu _du_ dislike his name, that's no reason for saying he was in your garden. He knows betther, so he does, than to go where he's not wanted."

After this it was open war between the stationmaster and the widow.

Under the windows of the refreshment room were two narrow flower-beds.

These Jim took care never to touch, affecting to consider them the exclusive property of Mrs. Macfarlane. They were long left uncultivated, an eyesore to the stationmaster; but one day Kelly, the porter, came to him with an air of mystery, to say that "th ould wan"--for by this term was Mrs. Macfarlane generally indicated--"was settin' somethin' in the beds beyant."

Jim came out of his office and walked up and down the platform with an air of elaborate unconsciousness. Sure enough, there was Mrs. Macfarlane gardening. She had donned old gloves and a clean checked ap.r.o.n, and, trowel in hand, was breaking up the caked earth, preparatory, it would seem, to setting plants.

"What the d.i.c.kens is she doin'?" asked Jim, when he got back.

"Not a wan ov me knows," said Kelly. "She's been grubbin' there since nine o'clock."

From this time Mrs. Macfarlane was a.s.siduous in the care of her two flower-beds. Every day she might be seen weeding or watering, and though Jim steadily averted his gaze, he was devoured by curiosity as to the probable results. What on earth did she want to grow? The weeks pa.s.sed.

Tiny green seedlings at last pushed their way through the soil, and in due course the nature of the plants became evident. Jim was highly excited, and rushed home to tell his wife.

"Be the hokey, Mary," he said, "'tis lilies she has there, an may I never sin, but it's my belief they're orange lilies, an' if they are, I'll root ev'ry wan ov thim out, if I die for it."

"Be quiet, now," said Mary. "How d'ye know they're lilies at all? For the love o' G.o.d keep her tongue off ov ye, an' don't be puttin' yersel'

in her way."

"Whist, woman, d'ye think I'm a fool? 'Tis lilies th' are annyways, an'

time'll tell if they're orange or not, but faith, if th'are, I won't shtand it.' I'll complain to the Boord."

"Sure the Boord'll be on her side, man. Don't yeh know the backin' she has? They'll say 'Why shouldn't she have orange lilies if she likes?'"

"Ah, Mary, 'tis too sinsible y'are inthirely. Have ye no sperrit, woman alive, to let her ride rough-shod over uz this way? 'Make a mouse o'

yerself an' the cat'll ate ye,' 's a thrue saying. Sure, Saint Pether himself cuddn't shtand it, an' be the piper that played before Moses, I won't!"

"Ye misfortunit man, don't be dhrawin' down ructions on yer head.

Haven't yeh childer to think about? An' don't be throublin' yerself over what she does. 'Tis plazin' her y'are whin she sees y're mad. Take no notice, man, an' p'raps she'll shtop."

"The divil fly away wid her for a bitther ould sarpint. The vinom's in her, sure enough. Why should I put up wid her, I'd like to know?"

"Ah, keep yer tongue between yer teeth, Jim. 'Tis too onprudent y'are.

Not a worrd ye dhrop but is brought back to her be some wan. Have sinse, man. You'll go sayin' that to Joe Kelly, an' he'll have it over the town in no time, an' some wan'll carry it to her."

"An' do ye think I care a thrawneen[1] for the likes ov her? Faith, not a pin. If you got yer way, Mary, ye'd have me like the man that was hanged for sayin' nothin'. Sure, I never did a hand's turn agin her, an'

'tis a low, mane thrick ov her to go settin' orange lilies over foreninst me, an' she knowin' me opinions."

"Faith, I'll not say it wasn't, Jim, if they _are_ orange lilies; but sure, ye don't know rightly yet what th'are, an' in G.o.d's name keep quite till you do."

The days went by. The lilies grew taller and taller. They budded, they bloomed, and, sure enough, Jim had been in the right--orange lilies they proved to be.

"They'll mek a fine show for the twelfth of July, I'm thinkin'," said Mrs. Macfarlane, complacently, as she walked by her beds, swinging a dripping watering-pot.

At the time of the blossoming of the orange lilies, James...o...b..ien was not at home, having had to go some twenty miles down the line on official business. The obnoxious flowers took advantage of his absence to make a gay show. When he returned, as luck would have it Mrs.

Macfarlane was away, and had shut up the refreshment room, but had not locked it. No one locks doors in Toomevara unless their absence is to be lengthy. She had left "King William" behind, and told Joe Kelly to take care of the dog, in case he should be lonely, for she had been invited to the wedding of an old fellow servant, the late butler at Lord Dunanway's, who was to be married that day to the steward's daughter.

All this Joe Kelly told the stationmaster on his return, but he did not say a word about the orange lilies, being afraid of an explosion, and, as he said, "detarmined not to meddle or make, but just to let him find it out himself."

For quite a time Jim was occupied over way-bills in his little office; but at last his attention was distracted by the long continued howling and yelping of a dog.

"Let the baste out, can't ye?" he at length said to Kelly. "I can't stand listening to um anny longer."

"I was afeared 'twas run over he might be, agin' she came back," said Kelly, "'an so I shut um up."

"Sure, there's no danger. There won't be a thrain in for the next two hours, an' if he was run over itself, G.o.d knows he'd be no loss. 'Tisn't meself 'ud grieve for um, th' ill-favoured cur."

"King William" was accordingly released.

When O'Brien had finished his task, he stood for a time at the office door, his hands crossed behind him, supporting his coat tails, his eyes fixed abstractedly on the sky. Presently he started for his usual walk up and down the platform, when his eye was at once caught by the flare of the stately rows of orange lilies.

"Be the Holy Poker!" he exclaimed. "But I was right. 'Tis orange th'

are, sure enough. What'll Mary say now? Faith, 'tis lies they do be tellin' whin they say there's no riptiles in Ireland. That ould woman bangs Banagher, an' Banagher bangs the divil."

He stopped in front of the obnoxious flowers.

"Isn't it the murthering pity there's nothing I can plant to spite her.

She has the pull over me entirely. Shamerogues makes no show at all--ye'd pa.s.s them unbeknownst--while orange lilies yeh can see a mile off. Now, who but herself 'ud be up to the likes o' this?"

At the moment he became aware of an extraordinary commotion among the lilies, and, looking closer, perceived "King William" in their midst, scratching as if for bare life, scattering mould, leaves, and bulbs to the four winds, and with every stroke of his hind legs dealing destruction to the carefully-tended flowers.

The sight filled Jim with sudden gladness.

"More power to the dog!" he cried, with irrepressible glee. "More power to um! Sure, he has more sinse than his missus. 'King William,' indeed, an' he rootin' up orange lilies! Ho, ho! Tare an' ouns! but 'tis the biggest joke that iver I hard in me life. More power to ye! Good dog!"

Rubbing his hands in an ecstasy of delight, he watched "King William" at his work of devastation, and, regretfully be it confessed, when the dog paused, animated him to fresh efforts by thrilling cries of "Rats!"

"King William" sprang wildly hither and thither, running from end to end of the beds, snapping the brittle lily stems, scattering the blossoms.

"Be gum, but it's great! Look at um now. Cruel wars to the Queen o'

Spain if iver I seen such shport! Go it, 'King William!' Smash thim, me boy! Good dog! Out wid them!" roared Jim, tears of mirth streaming down his cheeks. "Faith, 'tis mad she'll be. I'd give sixpence to see her face. O Lord! O Lord! sure, it's the biggest joke that iver was."

At last "King William" tired of the game, but only when every lily lay low, and Mrs. Macfarlane's carefully tended flower beds were a chaos of broken stalks and trampled blossoms.

As...o...b..ien, in high good humour, having communicated the side-splitting joke to Mary and Finnerty, was busy over his account books, Kelly came in.

"She's back," he whispered, "an she's neither to hold nor to bind. I was watchin' out, an' sure, 'twas shtruck all of a hape she was whin she seen thim lilies; an' now I'll take me oath she's goin' to come here, for, begob, she looks as cross as nine highways."

"Letter come," chuckled O'Brien; "I'm ready forrer."