The Widow OCallaghans Boys | Page 6

slept the night through. The rest were
waked so many times by the unaccustomed noise that one night seemed
like twenty.
"We'll be used to it in toime," said the heavy-eyed little widow to
yawning Pat and Mike the next morning. "And the more things you get
used to in this world the better for you. I belave it's quite something
loike to be able to sleep with engines tootin' and blowin' off steam, and
bells a-ringin', and cars a-bumpin'. Even a baby can slape where 'tis
quiet, you know."
Breakfast had been over an hour.
"Now, Pat," said his mother, "that's not the way to make beds. Off with
them covers and make 'em over again."

Mrs. O'Callaghan was standing in the doorway and looking in at the
roomful of beds. "I don't mane it for unkindness, Pat, but sure and the
way you've got 'em made up they look jist loike pigs' nests with covers
over 'em. There, that's better," she commented when Pat had obediently
made all the beds over again under her instructions. "You can't larn all
there is to bed-makin' in a day. 'Tis practice makes parfect, as your
copy book used to say. But I'm thinkin' you'll have it in a week, for
you're your father's son, and he was a quick wan to larn, was Tim. And
now I'll be teachin' you a bit of cookin' while I have the chance. You
must 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 got
no 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'd need
a hammer to crack 'em with after they was baked. No, no, Pat, you pick
'em over good and put 'em a-soak over night. In the mornin' you pick
'em over again, and wash 'em good and bile 'em awhile, and pour off
the water, and bile 'em again in fresh water with jist enough salt in it,
and then you put 'em in the oven and bake 'em along with a piece of
pork 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 of it.
The names of things don't tell half there is to 'em sometoimes. And now
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're not so
green as some girls I've seen. I'd rather have a handy b'y as an unhandy
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 his
small brothers from making too intimate acquaintance with freight cars
and engines. He was by this time pretty hungry, and he marshaled in
his squad with scant ceremony.
A week went by and the widow was settled. Each boy was placed in his
proper class at the public school, and the mother had her coveted four
washing places.
"I didn't come to town to be foolin' my toime away, so I didn't," said
Mrs. 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 to
say 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 the
boys at school found rough sailing.
"Ah, but Mrs. Thompson's the jewel!" cried Mrs. O'Callaghan on
Monday evening. "She do be sayin' that Larry's a cute little fellow, and
she has him in to play where she is, and he gets to hear the canary bird
sing, so he does. Didn't I be tellin' you, Pat, that I knew there was them
in this town