The Widow OCallaghans Boys | Page 3

idea," said his mother. "There's more than wan in the world
as can raise geese. An' geese is nice atin', too. I didn't see no runnin'

water near, but there's a plinty of ditches and low places where there'll
be water a-standin' a good bit of the toime. An' thim that can't git
runnin' water must take standin'. Yis, Pat, be they geese or min, in this
world they must take what they can git an' fat up on it as much as they
can, too."
The thin little woman--thin from overwork and anxiety and
grief--spoke thus to her tall son, who, from rapid growing, was thin, too,
and she spoke with a soberness that told how she was trying to
strengthen her own courage to meet the days before her. Absorbed in
themselves, mother and son paid no heed to their surroundings, the
horses fell into their accustomed brisk trot, and they were soon out on
the narrow road that lay between the fields.
"Now, Pat, me b'y," said Mrs. O'Callaghan, rousing herself, "you're the
oldest 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 me that
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 for my own,
Saturday I'll mind for 'em, an' Sunday I'll rist."
A few moments there was silence. The widow 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 biggest
room in the little house we rinted the day?"
Pat nodded.
"I thought you did. You're an obsarvin' b'y, Pat, jist loike your father.
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 can be nate an'

clane if we are poor, an' it'll be your part to make ivery wan 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 that shoinin', too. An' then
there's the coal to be got in an' the ashes to be took out. It does seem
that iverything you bring in is the cause of somethin' to be took out, but
it can't be helped, so it can't, so 'Out with it,' says I. An' there's the
dishes to be washed an'--I hate to ask you, 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," he said.
"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 some
as wouldn't do it, Pat. I'm jist tellin' you this to let you know you're
better than most." And she smiled upon him lovingly.
"If the most of 'em's that mean that they wouldn't do what they could
an' 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'd
be 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've noticed."
A mile they went in silence. And then Mrs. O'Callaghan said: "As for
the rist, you'll all go to school but Larry, an' him I'll take with me when
I go a--washin'. I know I can foind thim in the town that'll help a poor
widow that much, an' that's all the help I want, too. Bad luck to beggars.
I'm none of 'em."
Pat did not respond except by a kindly glance to show that he heard,
and his 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 came
out 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 small place
we've got, as Pat will tell you there. Close to the north side of the town
it is, down by the railroad tracks, where you can see all the trains pass
by day an' hear 'em by