For Our Boys & Girls

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 460, 5 April 1890, Page 4

For Our Boys & Girls

EDITED BY MRS FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. [COPYRIGHT.] [All Rights Reserved.]

The Princess of Rafferty’s Court.

By Lillian L. Price. (Copyrighted 1890 by S. S. McClure.) Mrs O’Shea’s candy shop was as neat as a new pin. Fresh white sand was strewn on the clean floor, and the plated top of each canrlv jar shone like silver. The. mint Bticks stood bolt up inside them in the primmest kind of way. Mrs O’Shea herself sat in the corner knitting. Her cap was starched to its stiffest frill and her gingham gown matched it. A long, blue yarn stocking grew under her nimble fingers. A tinkle at the bell and an emphatic slam announced a customer. It was apple-cheeked Mrs Flannigan, of the second floor ‘Three pair o’ shoe strings, Mrs O’Shea,’ she said, putting down the money with an abstracted air. ‘So you be a lookin’ for her every minute, I understand.’ ‘Every minute, now,’returned Mrs O’Shea, smiling. ‘ An’ you’d think by the way I’ve scrubbed up, the eyes ov her wud de takin’ in every spot of dirt.’ _ ‘lt’s the feelin’ you have to bo kapin’ iverything shipshape.’ ‘ I suppose it is. This bit ov place ull be a sight different from the institution.’ ‘ Well, my heart goes out to you. Look ao my Jimsey ! Sittin’ all day long by the windy fixin’ his flures and watchin’ Mr Stebbin’s pigeons. The saints bless him fur the kapin’ ov ’em !’ ‘ Ay, but my Eila can’t see the pigeons. Oh, 1 can’t wait to be seein’ her again, Mrs Flannigan ! She's a bit of a flower, if she is me own child. They have kept her just beautiful at the institution, an’ when I look at her white face an’ the big blue eyes with the black lashes curlin’ up like a silk fringe, and the hair ov her all brown curls, I don’t know whether to cry or be thankful to think I’m her mother.’ ‘ Ye’ve worked faithful to kape her in the institution.’ • Ay, but I couldn’t teach her mesilf, I a widdy an’ she blind.’ ‘ Did none ov the doctors iver say she cud be cured ?’ The motherly face grew sad. ‘ Well, there was wan doctor said once, whin she was a bit ov a child, that whin she grew older she moight be hilped. But I can’t think o’ thim sharp knives a-euttin’ ov me darlin’ an’ mebbe to no good. It quivers me flesh, Mrs Flannigan.’ • You do be havin’ the hearts ov the whole tinement wid you, onyhow. lam not darin’ to mention the surprises a-keepin’ fer that same Eila in almost ivery room upstairs. That visit of hers last St. Patrick’s hasn’t been forgot.’ Mrs O’Shea wiped her eyes. ‘lt’s good of you, Mrs Flannigan,’ she said. ‘l’ve made a lady of Eila, but I’m afraid it was a cruel thing.’ ‘ Whist! tut! But I must be runnin’, or my Ted ull tip up the washtub, he takes the constant mindin,’ and the door closed with a pleasant jingle. An hour later all was bustle and stir in Mrs O’Shea’s back sitting-room. A bulgingspringed old easy chair, bought cheap of the pawnbroker, was drawn close to the fire, and Mrs O’Shea was carefully removing the hood from Eila’s brown curls, her face tremulous with tears and smiles.

‘Sayagain, Eila darlin’, that you’re glad yo u are goin’ to live with your old mammy. Ob, but it’s the sweet flower you are! Shall you miss the grand doin’s of the institution?’ ‘ But this is my new home,’ returned Eila, patting the shabby cushions gleefully, and waving one little hand towards the fire. ‘ I smell tea and toast, and I feel you near me, mammy, and that is better than all the institutions in the world ! Why, I've lain awake nights thinking of the time when I’d live with you, mammy, and how happy we’d be !’ Eila leaned back in the old chair, her curls streaming over the cushions and a dimpling smile over her face. ‘I learned “Home, Sweet Homo,” ’ she continued gayly, ‘ on purpose to sing to you.’ And immediately she trolled it off in a clear treble voice, while her mother wiped away glad tears. • lb’s a canary in here for sure,’ said Mrs Flannigan’s cheery voice at the hall door. ‘Come along, Missus Kearny, here’s the sousie bird ! Ah, Eila, darlin’, here’s the seed-cake I baked for you. Kiss me now ! tome along, missus !’ Feeble and bent, Mrs Kearny hobbled across the room. She was the oldest woman in the tenement and had once been a lady of some mean 3. * I’ve brought you a collar, Eila. It’s lace, dearie, and will look pretty on your bonny neck.’ Eila patted the cake and kissed the collar.

‘ Sit down at once,’ she cried gayly. ‘ I don’t know where the chairs are yet. lam delighted to see you. How’s Jimsey, Mrs Flannigan ?’ * See that, how she remembers me voice ! Jimsey’s in a fair way, dear. An’ ain’t you glad now to be home with mother?’ ‘ W T ell, I just guess so,’ cuddling down in the chair. ‘ Mammy, speak to me.’ ‘Yes, dear ; here I am.’ Mrs Kearny sighed. ‘ She’s a real sprig of Irish heather. Gong so soon, Mrs Flannigan ?’ ‘We must not stay too long. Up with you, missus.’ There weie callers of all descriptions. The cream of the tenement population paid its respect to the dainty girl who had come there to live. The cobbler brought her a pair of slippers. She had ribbons for her hair, queer little bottles of cologne in boots and hats, and finally, after a long array of various gim-cracks, Tim Doolan presented her with a tabby kitten. ‘Where did you get her, Timmy ?’ cried Eila, delightedly. ‘ Raised her, bedad !’ said proud Tim. «She eats milk, taties an’ bits o’ bread. River a scratch out o’ her, an’ she purrs like the tickin’ ov a watch. I raised her for vou, or it’s the drowned cat she’d be this ijay.’ Eila hugged Kitty and laughed. ‘ What’s her name, Tim ?’ ‘ Well it’s the queer one she answers to : “ Cushie,” for she was called Acushla because of belongin’ to you.’ ‘ You’re kind to me, Tim. Come here, till I see you with my fingers.’ It’s like satin your fingers are,’ said Tim. ‘ Will you know me again now, Eila?' • ■ That I will.’

* Bedad, you’re better off than any of us, Eila, fur you’ve got the ten eyes to our two ! What’s me complexion now ?’ * Freckles. ’ * An’ me hair ?’ ‘Red.’ ‘ An’ me nose ?’ ‘ A snub.’ Timmy laughed uproariously. ‘Some frind o’ mine has been givin’ ye tips,’ he said, ‘ but you know a han’some feller when ye see him, that ye do, Miss Eila.’ ‘ Do come again,’ nodded Eila, as he took his departure after a gale of merriment. * I like you so.’ * Then it’s funny if I don’t wear out me welcome, an’ this carpet, with the extent ov me comin,’ said Tim with a droll smile to hide the sorrow he felt at seeing those beautiful, sightless eyes turned towards him. * It’s me again,' called Mrs Flannigan into the door after supper. ‘ It’smy Jimsey as must come this time !’ and she entered the room bearing in her arms her little lad, who had had no use of his legs since his babyhood. White and wan, with dark circles under his eyes, he lay on the lounge where his mother placed him, breathing heavily. ‘ You’re spent, Jimsey—but he would come. He’s got something for you, Eila. ‘ I'm that glad you’re back, Eila,’ said i Jimsey, weakly. ‘ Don’t talk yet,’ said Eila, skilfully feeling her way over to the sofa and kneeling down by his side. She ran her fingers rapidly over his face and said : ‘ It’s the same Jimsey.’ ‘ I’ve brought you this, Eila. It’s every blossom there was on my heliotrope. Smell ’em • Ain’t they sweet ? It’s all I had of me own, ye mind, so I cud give it mesilf.’ ‘ I’m afraid you robbed the bush for me,’ said Eila, laying the purple clusters against her face and lips and smoothing them with her finger tips. ‘ But I’ll keep them close to me, jimsey : thank you.’ ‘ Any new songs, Eila ?’ he asked eagerly. ‘ Oh, plenty. I’ll come up in the morning and sing them all to you.’ * 1 thought if you’d sing just the tiniest one to-night that I’d sleep better,’ he said, with a wishful glance. ‘ Well, I will then,’ said Eila. Folding her hands in her lap she leaned hex head against the sofa and sang

The stars of love and peace are light Godsends to cheer my constant night. His loving thoughts in kindly rays Make sunshine sweet to light my days. The Angel Patience holds my hand. And leads me through the shadow land The Angel Peace, with loving touch Upholds me if I suffer much. The merry song of bird and bee Teach how contented I should be ; ’ For through the night the dawn will come. And I shall see in heaven’s sun.

* That’s beautiful, Eila. Don’byou know something about legs, too ?’ ‘ No, Jimsey ? Miss Herbert never wrote any songs about legs, because we were all blind, but I’ll sing “ The Staff On Which I Lean.’ ” Jimsey went off home very contentedly, chattering of Eila till sleep overtook him. Eila thrived excellently in Rafferty’s Court. There was plenty for the busy little girl to do. Her fingers were quite wonderful in their skill and activity. She learned her way about the house very rapidly, and was entirely at home in every apartment. Jimsey fairly radiated happiness, and Timmy Doolan was her devoted slave. One warm spring afternoon Jimsey and Eila were sitting on the lounge of the little back-room, playing cat’s cradle. The bell in the store jingled violently, and Timmy Doolan rushed in with his eyes sparkling. ‘ Mrs O’Shea !’

‘ Now be careful, Timmy Doolan, how you’re tumblin’ in me dure !’ cried the startled lady as she saw who her customer was.

‘ Oh, but Mrs O’Shea ! Take th’ heed o’ me ! Dr. Dinnis says I kin have the horse and chaise the whole afternoon to mesiif — an’ Katie’s the gentlest baste that iver ye saw,—and Mrs Flannigan says Jimsey may go—for the doctor says I’m a good driver as iver he is—an’ plase may Eila go too ?’ ‘ I donno/ said Mrs O’Shea, dubiously. ‘ How do ye be cornin’ to have the doctor’s hoorse ?'

‘ He’s gone out ov the city to a big consultation an’ I asked it ov him. He’s the heart in him, Dr. Dinnis has. Think of the sweet air thim two kin be breathin’ in some lanes I know.’

‘ An’ Tim’s the tidy, careful lad ivery time, or I’d never be letting Jimsey go,’ chimed in Mrs Flannigan’s persuasive voice. Busy preparations followed. Tim rushed around to the stables for the carriage, aud the whole court turned out to see them off. Jimsey sank back in his corner pale and quiet in his intense delight. Eila lifted her face up as a flower lifts its calyx to the sun. Tim gathered up the reins with a jockey-like air and said, 1 Ye needn’t send the perlice after us if we don’t pull up on the stroke ov five. They’ll be wantin’me to be pickin’the flowers ivory hand’s throw.’ He found a quiet river road with fine l-esidenees dotting one side, while the water rippled gently in the ledges of the other. The wind blew Eila’s hair aside and she talked constantly of the sweet odours which she detected with the keenest appreciation. Jimsev nxmbled on about the birds, boats and ti'ees in a strange mixture. ‘ Ye’ll be surprised now for sure/ said Tom with a chuckle as ho turned in at a great iron gate. Jimsey pulled his sleeve anxiously. They were drawing near a large vinecovered piazza. ‘Timmy, it’s a house you’i-e runnin’ into ! Look out !’ A fine, portly gentleman crossed the piazza to meet them. * Ah, Tim, you’re a little late ! I am home first. So these are Jimsey and Eila. Don’t be afraid, deal*/ as Eila shrank back at the sound of his heavy voice. ‘I am only Dr. Dennis. Let me help you to this chaix-, Jimsey lad. Tim promised to bring me some interesting patients.’ He glanced with professional but pitying look at Jimsey’s helpless limbs and then at Eila’s beautiful flushed face.

They had a charming call. There was cake and lemonade for them, and Mrs Dennis picked them each a bouquet of flowers from the conservatory. Jimsey held his quietly in his hands, but Eila entirely forgot her shyness in her delight over a cluster of long-stemmed roses. ‘ Oh, if I could only see them!’ she exclaimed eagerly. ‘ You can see them, Jimsey ! Tell me how they look.' * Some’s pink, and some’s white, and some’s all yellow, and the leaves are all curly-twisty, one over the other, and the little pockets in the middle hold the goldy dust that makes ’em smell.’ Eila looked puzzled and then sighed. ‘Thank you, Jimsey, but I’ll have to feel the colour of them.’

All the way home Tim looked anxious and absent-minded. Jimsey, quite invigorated by the fresh air and fine sights, hurrahed merrily as they drove up to the candy shop door. After that Hr. Dennis let Tim have a carriage for an hour or two every week, and very often the drive ended on the vinecovered porch. Eiia called the ’place Roselands and Mrs Dennis the sweet rose lady. Timmy strolled into the back room after supper one evening. His usual ready wit seemed to have forsaken him and he played with the cats for awhile in silence. .

* Mrs O’Shea, it’s thinkin’ a good bib of Eila and Jimsey they are, out at the doctor’s.’ * So ye say, Tim, and it’s thankful I am.' ‘Mrs Dinnis says to me only this afternoon, says she, Eila must come out and stop on our farm the three weeks, says she, it’s needin’ the air she is.’ ‘ I’m obliged to her, Tim.’ * An’, says she, ask her mother if I can come fetch her the next Monday, and little Jimsey. It’s always some one we have at the farmhouse every summer.’ Mrs O’Shea’s air was stern and forbidding, but Eila’s quick ear had caught Tim’s low words, and taking it for granted that she could go, her joy was so great that her mother never voiced her refusal.

She turned back sadly into the little shop when Mrs Dennis’ carriage carried Eila off on Monday. The weeks dragged by with only a letter dictated by Eila begging to stay longer. Mrs O’Shea sighed as she read it, and then put it for safekeeping into a candy jar. Bub Eila stayed. ‘ls it lonesome ye are?' inquired Mrs Flannigan of Mrs O’Shea one hob morning. ‘ Yes ; bub the time’s slidin’ by now, so that I’m thinkin’ of thim cornin’back all the time. They’re having the picnic, by Tim’s tell. I wonder if the Coort ull hold the yoong aristocrats whin they gib home.’ ‘ I notice, Mrs O’Shea, ye’re thinkin’ too much of the aristocracy of it. Here’s Tim. Well, how’s the childer, lad ?’ ‘ It’s goin’ for them, I am this afternoon. The doctor says they be made over, both o’ thim.’ At 5 o’clock he brought them home. Mrs Flannigan seized Jimsey and covered him with kisses. Her eyes were so busy with his improved looks that she did nob glance at Eila until they were all in the sitting-room together. Eila leaned back in her chair with closed eyes, Timmy was fidgetty. ‘ Come, Eila,’ he cried at length, ‘the doctor said nob to be afeard ! Open yere eyes, now ! Which is she?’ Rising timidly, she opened her eyes, and, crossing to her mother, in a halting fashion, with slow high steps, said : ‘ This is my mother ! Oh, mother ! I can see ! I can see you !’ ‘ Whoopsy, whoopsy, whoowsy !’ roared Tim, slapping his knees and shaking'the cab till she yowled. ‘ D’ye hear that, Cushie, your mistress can see ! Eila isn’t blind any longer ! Get out there wid the scratch ye’re givin’ me, ye ongrabeful cat, an’ me that raised you !’ Mrs O’Shea and Mrs Flannigan were both crying. ‘ Now listen, Cushie, till I tell ye about it. They’ll not be bearin’ me tor the weepin’ they must do ! It’s mesilf that told that foine man Dr. Dinnis o’ the eye o’ wan an’ th’ ligs o’ the other, an’ says he, afther he sees thim, says he, Tim, it’s me juby to hilp Eila back to her sight, money or no money, says he. So knowin’ ye’d niver bo consinbin' to the operation and the chloryforni, or ye’d be dyin' o’ fright the while, he did it unbeknownst ! So it’s Eila that can go to be a teacher, and Jimsey’s goin’ to have th’ beautiful braces fer his ligs so that he kin walk to th’ school an’ gib th’ lamin’ ! An’ it’s mesilf that ull put up the marble monymenb to the doctor whin I gib bo be a man ! That’s thrue for ye, Cushie ! Whoopsy !’ and the unfortunate cab, released from his grip, plunged under the lounge. Dr. Dennis appeared, smiling, in the door. The torrent of thanks fairly ovei-powered him.

‘ Why, bless your hearts, stop, stop ! It’s thanks enough for me to know the little lass can see again. But she’s not out of my care yet. Come, kiss me, Eila. Jimsey, little man, your braces will be ready next week.’ ‘I do be wantin’ to pay yez,’ said Mrs Flannigan, firmly. ‘So you shall, then,’ nodded the doctor, appreciating her tone, ‘ when you can,when you can.’ There was a tea party in Rafferty’s Court that night. Even Cushie wore a festive air, but no one was quite so happy and hilarious as Timmy Doolan.