Our Casualty, and Other Stories Part 24

"It's blood they want," said the kitchenmaid, "and if s blood they'll have."

"Molly," said Mrs. O'Halloran, "is there men in the house or is there not? Stop your bawling now, and tell me."

"There is, there is," said Molly, "with guns and cannons and knives.

Glory be to G.o.d, but I never thought to die this way. What'll we do at all, at all? Would it be any good hiding?"

Mrs. O'Halloran, with cool deliberation, s.h.i.+fted the position of two pots on the kitchen range. Then she wiped her hands on her ap.r.o.n.

"It's your place to attend the door and not mine, Molly," she said, "but if you're afeard...."

She looked scornfully at the two girls and left the kitchen.

In the hall a young man stood just inside the door on the mat. He wore a greenish-grey uniform and carried a rifle. Across his chest was a bandolier. He looked uncomfortable, like a man who finds himself unexpectedly in a public place when wearing a fancy dress. The door was wide open. On the steps outside were two other young men. They also wore uniforms and carried rifles.

"Now what may you be wanting?" said Mrs. O'Halloran.

The man on the mat--he was really little more than a boy--fumbled in one pocket after another.

His uniform, like that of the British soldier, had a good many pockets.

Finally he drew out a sheet of paper.

"This is my authority," he said, "from the Provisional Government of the Irish Republic."

He handed the paper to Mrs. O'Halloran.

"If it's a collection you're making for the Irish Language Fund," said Mrs. O'Halloran, "her ladys.h.i.+p gave half a crown last week to one of yees, and she'll give no more, so you can take yourselves off out of this as quick as you like."

"We are not collectors," said the young man, with dignity.

"Whether you are not, it's what you look," said Mrs. O'Halloran, "dressed up in them clothes, with your toy guns and all. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves."

The suggestion that his rifle was not a real weapon roused the spirit of the young man.

"In the name of the Irish Republic," he said, "I take possession of this house for military purposes."

"Musha, but that's fine talk," said Mrs. O'Halloran. "Will nothing do you, only military purposes?"

"We shall do no harm to the inmates or the contents of the house," said the young man.

"You will not, for you won't be let."

"But I demand free entrance to the upper storeys for myself and my men."

He turned to the two boys on the steps outside the door.

"Enter," he said, "and follow me."

"Will you wipe your boots on the mat," said Mrs. O'Halloran, "and not be carrying all the mud of the streets into the house with you. Do you think the girls that does be here has nothing to do only to be sweeping carpets and polis.h.i.+ng floors after the likes of you?"

The army of the Irish Republic has had many crimes laid to its charge; but it has not been said that its soldiers were guilty of any needless discourtesy to the inhabitants of the houses of which they took possession. The three young men wiped their boots on Lady Devereux'

doormat with elaborate cafe. Mrs. O'Halloran watched them critically.

"Is it the police you're out after with them guns?" she said. "It's a pity, so it is, to see fine young fellows like you mixing yourselves up with that foolishness. Sure they'll get you at the latter end, and you'll be had up in Court."

The leader of the little party of Sinn Feiners was not inclined to discuss the future prospects of the insurrection with Mrs. O'Halloran.

He moved across the hall towards the staircase, followed by his two young men. They walked delicately, stepping carefully from one to another of the rugs which lay on the floor and avoiding the polished boards. They were courteous and considerate rebels.

"Will nothing but the front stairs suit you?" said Mrs. O'Halloran.

"c.o.c.k you up, indeed, the likes of you, that never was in a lady's house before. The back stairs is good enough for me, so I'm thinking it's good enough for you. Come along with you now."

She led them past the foot of the great staircase and through a swing door covered with green baize. That door, such was the fancy of the designer of Lady Devereux' house, concealed another, a very solid door, made after the Georgian fas.h.i.+on, of thick mahogany. The baize-covered door had a spring on it so that it swung shut of itself. Mrs. O'Halloran held it open with one hand. With the other she turned the handle of the solid door beyond.

"Will you come along now," she said to the three young men, "and take care you don't be scratching the polish off the door with them guns you're so proud of?"

They were foolish rebels, those three. They were young and, though Irish, this was the first time they had taken part in an insurrection.

They had marched forth to garrison Lady Devereux' house expecting much, hand-to-hand fighting perhaps in the hall, the tears and hysterics of terrified women, revolver shots from outraged loyalists. Anything of that sort, anything heroic they were prepared for. Old Biddy O'Halloran, with her humorous eyes and her ready tongue, took them aback. They walked through the mahogany door meekly enough.

They found themselves in a small cloak room. There was a wash-hand basin and a couple of towels in one corner. A pile of carriage rugs lay on a shelf. Some waterproof coats hung from pegs. There were three umbrellas in a stand. There was one small window which looked out on a back yard and was heavily barred. There was not the smallest sign of a staircase leading to the upper storey of the house or to anywhere else.

A nervous and excitable woman who had trapped three young men would have made haste to lock them in. Mrs. O'Halloran was in no hurry at all. The key of the mahogany door was on the inside of the lock. She took it out deliberately.

"There you stay," she said, "the three of yous, till you've sense enough to go back to your homes, and it's your mothers will be thankful to me this day for keeping you out of mischief. Listen to me now before I lock the door."

She fitted the key into the outside of the lock and half closed the door while she spoke.

"If I hear a word out of your heads or if there's any shooting of them guns, or if you start cracking and banging on that door, or kicking up any sort of a noise that might disturb her ladys.h.i.+p, I'll give you neither bite nor sup, not if I have to keep you here for a week, so be good now and mind what I'm telling you."

She shut the door and turned the key in the lock.

At the head of the kitchen stairs stood Molly and the kitchenmaid.

"Will I run for the police?" said the kitchenmaid. "Sure I wouldn't be afeard to do it if Molly would come with me."

"You'll run down to the scullery," said Mrs. O'Halloran, "and you'll go on was.h.i.+ng them potatoes, and Molly along with you. That's all the running either the one or the other of you will do this day."

"Her ladys.h.i.+p's bell is ringing," said Molly. "Will I not go to her? It could be she's not dead yet and might be wanting help."

"It's little help you'd give her if she was wanting it, you with your cap on your ear, instead of the top of your head, and your ap.r.o.n like a wrung dishclout I wonder you're not ashamed to be seen. Get along with you down to the kitchen and stay there. Anything that's wanted for her ladys.h.i.+p I'll do myself."

Lady Devereux was in her morning room, a pleasant sunny apartment which looked out on the square. The day was warm, but Lady Devereux was an old woman. She sat in front of a bright fire. She sat in a very deep soft chair with her feet on a footstool. She had a pile of papers and magazines on a little table beside her. She neither stirred nor looked up when Mrs. O'Halloran entered the room.

"Molly," she said, "I heard some men talking in the hall. I wish they wouldn't make so much noise."

Mrs. O'Halloran cleared her throat and coughed. Lady Devereux looked up.

"Oh," she said, "it's not Molly. It's you, Mrs. O'Halloran. Then I suppose it must be plumbers."

The inference was a natural one. Mrs. O'Halloran always dealt with plumbers when they came. She was the only person in the house who could deal with plumbers.