Part 34 (2/2)
”Good family,” repeated Elinor. ”Yes, that's what I understood. It's a very good family.”
”It is indade, Miss. But my manin' was different. Tom is a good provider. There's more than sphuds on his table. There's milk in a-plenty and eggs just fresh from the hins. Tom, he keeps two cows and a great number of powltry, includin' of six foine ducks and as many more tur-rkeys.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: _”DO YOU KNOW A FAMILY NAMED BUTLER AROUND HERE, DRIVER?”
BEGAN ELINOR DIPLOMATICALLY._]
Elinor's bosom friends were too alive to her own poignant anguish even to smile over this enlightening description of Tom Butler and his powltry, but it was a very difficult position and Nancy, irrepressible giggler that she was, held her breath until her face was purple and tears of laughter filled her eyes.
”An' what may you be wantin' with Tom Butler, Miss?”
”I-I thought I'd like to call on him and his family,” faltered Elinor, not daring to look at Mary and feeling strangely glad that Billie and Nancy were sitting with their backs to her so that they could not see her crimson face.
”Is it from America ye've come?” asked the man, stirring up the old horse with his whip.
”Yes.”
”Ye be knowin' some of the Butler kin there, I'm thinkin'?” asked the man with some excitement.
”Yes.”
”Get along with you, you slow-movin' beast,” exclaimed the driver, unexpectedly addressing himself to his nag. ”Shure and the divvel's put weights in your hind feet. Ye're a snail and no horse at all, at all.”
The road lay between fields a-bloom with red poppies and daisies.
Occasionally groups of barefooted girls pa.s.sed by and there was many a lounger by the wayside smoking his afternoon pipe,-which might with equal truth also be called his morning pipe and his noonday and evening pipe.
At last the car paused in front of a little stone cottage set in the midst of a small plot of ground. A woman was sitting in the doorway peeling potatoes and a tall pretty girl about Elinor's own age came running around the side of the house with a basket of eggs.
”I be bringin' a visitor for you, owld woman,” the man called pleasantly. ”A young loidy from the States who is acquainted from some of the Butler fam'ly.”
”And indade, news of the Butler fam'ly will be like the sound of swate music to your ears, Tom,” called the woman.
Elinor started violently.
”Are you Thomas Butler?” she demanded.
”Shure, an' I'm the mon,” he answered amiably. ”I'm Thomas Butler as was soundin' his own praises a while ago. If a mon don't sound his own praises, there's no one ilse as will do it for him.”
The other girls laughed, relieved to give vent to their repressed feelings. So these were Elinor's much-boasted relations! Poor, proud Elinor, who always wore her hair in a coronet braid because she secretly believed her ancestors were of royal blood! They tacitly determined to leave the situation entirely in her hands, and when Elinor, whose face wore the expression of one who is about to take a bad dose of medicine, descended from the cart, they followed and shook hands with Mrs. Thomas Butler and her daughter, Eileen. Presently the jovial Thomas. .h.i.tched his horse and came into the house after them.
There was not much furniture in the room in which they had been hospitably invited to sit down,-a table and a few chairs; a set of shelves whereon stood the household china, and a few cooking utensils.
The floor was paved with stone slabs. On the mantel ticked a small wooden clock between two bra.s.s candlesticks, such as are used at all Irish wakes to stand at the head of the coffin. The room was unceiled at the top and crossed with smoke-blacked rafters. Chickens walked fearlessly in and out and a little fat pig stuck his nose in at the back door and grunted at them.
Eileen brought in a pitcher of milk and four thick gla.s.ses and shyly placed them on the table.
”An' now, ye don't be after tellin' me that ye know me fust cousin, Michael Butler, a sthreet car conductor in the city of Saint Loose, the name of the county has eschaped me moind?”
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