Part 5 (1/2)

And in that man's pocket lay thirteen cards, and _they_ never said a word.

_Sixth Episode_

WIDOW M'CARTY'S ABODE EIGHT O'CLOCK CHRISTMAS EVE

Every ill known or imagined by the pessimistic Granny had been voiced in graphic predictions, but at last even her vocabulary of grumblings was exhausted, and she hobbled off to her pallet,--the thump, thump, thump of her cane beating a resentful retreat.

Grandad still sat in his corner, and Bridget left her uncomfortable seat and dropped into Granny's vacant chair.

”Sure, it ain't much like Christmas Eve I'm thinkin',” she said, glancing at Grandad. ”There's the difference in the look of things since Mike, me darling, is gone--him that always went into town, when he stayed home the day before Christmas, to buy presents for me an'

the childer. I remimber, yes, I do, 'cause I aint forgot it yet, the elligant bonnit he bought me wanst. What with feathers standing this way an' that, I was the fine lady of all Fifth Street.”

”Ye wor that,” answered Grandad, looking up with a twinkle in his kind gray eyes. ”Ye wor that, Bridget, me girl, an' ye're the same this day, fithers or no fithers.”

”It's the feathers makes the bird, Daddy,” sighed Bridget, but his pleasant word softened the despairing look on her care-worn face.

”Fithers makes the birds, did ye say, Bridget?” continued Grandad.

”What kind of rasonin' is that, sure? Nivir a fither have I seen that was not projuced by wan bird or anither. An' what difference does it make what kind of fithers a bird has whin he's picked, tell me that?

For me taste, a bird is betther withoot fithers at all, at all.”

”Ah, well,” said Bridget, ”it's you that have the cheery word, Grandad, and it's good to hear, but to-night I'm that beat out I couldn't throw a stick at Dooley if he came to the door this minit.”

Mrs. M'Carty looked about the room, so scant with furniture and so cheerless.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”'A MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM KATRINA BAUMGaRTNER!'”]

”It's no use trying--” she began, but at that moment a knock that fairly rattled the whole shanty called her to the door. It also woke up Granny M'Carty, who thrust her head from the bedclothes and peered into the kitchen.

”'Tis a mistake,” she growled as a round package was handed to her daughter, and a strange voice said:

”A Merry Christmas from Katrina Baumgartner!”

”'Tis a mistake, I say,” she continued, as the delivery boy disappeared in the darkness, and Mrs. M'Carty, with hands trembling from excitement, carried the mysterious package to the lean-to.

”Indeed, then, and it's no mistake,” she whispered to herself as she opened the package and disclosed to view a beautiful Christmas pudding. ”It's Miss Katrina, the darling, that's remembered us this night. One, two, three,” she counted, as in imagination she divided the gift among the little M'Cartys. ”Four, five, six,--sure, I must be more sparing of my pieces,--but bless the sweet Ellen, she can't eat any, and I'm not needing any myself,--but Grandad, and Granny, they must have a bit;--seven, eight, nine,--it's a trifle small, to be sure, but enough for a taste for the darlings. If Granny hadn't heard the boy, what a fine surprise I'd have for her; but she'll be wanting to know what the likes of me is getting for Christmas. She's that curious, she sleeps with her other eye open just to be seeing what she can hear. But I'll be letting her think it was a mistake, so I will.”

Bang! whack! bang! another thundering noise shook the rickety door.

”I told you it was a mistake,” screamed Granny. ”He's come to take it away from yez.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”SHE PLACED BOTH PUDDINGS IN HER Ap.r.o.n”]

Mrs. M'Carty's heart sank. The gift evidently was a mistake.

Concealing the pudding, divested of its wrappings, under her ap.r.o.n, she hastened to the door, to be handed another package with the same Christmas greeting from Miss Katrina Baumgartner.