The Widow OCallaghans Boys | Page 2

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's b'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
up touchingly 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's all settled. A-Saturday I goes to town to get a place. A-Monday we
moves."
The neighbor saw that it was indeed settled, and, like a discreet woman,
did not push her counsel further, but presently took her leave, hoping
that the future might be brighter than it promised for Mrs. O'Callaghan
and her boys.
* * * * *
"Aise 'em up an' down the hills, Pat, the dear bastes that your father

loved!"
Mrs. O'Callaghan and Pat were driving to Wennott behind the team that
was theirs no longer, and it was Saturday. No need to speak to Pat. The
whip rested in the socket, and he wished, for his part, that the horses
would crawl. He knew how poor they were, and he did not want to go
to town. But mother said town, and town it must be.
Down across the railroad track, a little northeast of the depot, was a
triangular bit of ground containing about as much as two lots, and on it
had been erected a poor little shanty of two rooms. The widow knew of
this 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're after, an'
a place quiet loike an' free from obsarvers. If it's poor ye are, well an'
good, but, says I, 'There's no use of makin' a show of it.' 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," she continued with a shrewd glance at
him, "an' it heartens me whin ye agree with me, for your father's gone,
an' him and me used to agree wonderful."
Pat's lips twitched. He had been very fond of his father. And all at once
it seemed to him that town and the shanty were the two most desirable
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 so small a
town as Wennott a diversion. To-day he looked about him with new
interest, for here were streets and stores that were to become familiar to
him. They entered the town from the south and drove directly to its
center, where stood the courthouse in a small square surrounded by an
iron hitching-rack. Stores faced it on every side, and above the stores
were the lawyers' offices. Which one belonged to the man who had
charge of 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
some instances, small families lived.
"We'll jist be inquirin', Pat. 'Tis the only way. But what to ask for, I
don'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 you have, Pat.
'Twas himsilf as wint iver straight after what he wanted."
Pat's eyes beamed and he held himself more proudly. What higher
praise could 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't
have 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'Callaghan
when the bargain had been concluded. "An' it's home we'll be goin' at
wanst. We've naught to be buyin' the day, seein' we're movin' in on
Monday."
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 spring
seat of the farm wagon.
Pat nodded.
"There's an