Part 44 (1/2)
”I never had n.o.body there belonging to me,” began Grannie.
”No, then, n.o.body?” said Caesar.
”One that was going to be, maybe, if he'd lived, poor boy----”
”Grannie!” shouted Pete, and he burst into the bar-room.
”Goodness me!” cried Grannie; ”it's his own voice anyway.”
”It's himself,” shouted Pete, and the old soul was in his arms in an instant.
”Aw dear! Aw dear!” she panted. ”Pete it is for sure. Let me sit down, though.”
”Did you think it was his ghost, then, mother!” said Caesar with an indulgent air.
”'Deed no,” said Grannie. ”The lad wouldn't come back to plague n.o.body, thinks I.”
”Still, and for all the upris.e.m.e.nt of Peter, it bates everything,” said Caesar. ”It's a sort of a resurrection. I thought I'd have a sight up to the packet for his chiss, poor fellow, and, behould ye, who should I meet in the two eyes but the man himself!”
”Aw, dear! It's wonderful I it's terrible! I'm silly with the joy,” said Grannie.
”It was lies in the letter the Manx ones were writing,” said Caesar.
”Letters and writings are all lies,” said Grannie. ”As long as I live I'll take no more of them, and if that Kelly, the postman, comes here again, I'll take the bellows to him.”
”So you thought I was gone for good, Grannie?” said Pete. ”Well, I thought so too. 'Will I die?' I says to myself times and times; but I bethought me at last there wasn't no sense in a good man like me laving his bones out on the bare Veldt yonder; so, you see, I spread my wings and came home again.”
”It's the Lord's doings--it's marvellous in our eyes,” said Caesar; and Grannie, who had recovered herself and was bustling about, cried--
”Let me have a right look at him, then. Goodness me, the whisker! And as soft as Manx carding from the mill, too. I like him best when he takes off his hat. Well, I'm proud to see you, boy. 'Deed, but I wouldn't have known you, though. 'Who's the gentleman in the gig with father?' thinks I. And I'd have said it was the Dempster himself, if he hadn't been dead and in his coffin.”
”That'll do, that'll do,” roared Pete. ”That's Grannie putting the fun on me.”
”It's no use talking, but I can't keep quiet; no I can't,” cried Grannie, and with that she whipped up a bowl from the kitchen dresser and fell furiously to peeling the potatoes that were there for supper.
”But where's Kate?” said Pete.
”Aw, yes, where is she? Kate! Kate!” called Grannie, leaning her head toward the stairs, and Nancy Joe, who had been standing silent until now, said----
”Didn't she go to Ramsey with the gig, woman?”
”Aw, the foolish I am! Of course she did,” said Grannie; ”but why hasn't she come back with father?”
”She left word at Crellin's not to wait,” said Caesar.
”She'll be gone to Miss Clucas's to try on,” said Nancy.
”Wouldn't trust now,” said Grannie. ”She's having two new dresses done, Pete. Aw, girls are ter'ble. Well, can you blame them either?”
”She shall have two-and-twenty if she likes, G.o.d bless her,” said Pete.