Chapter 12

"Sure they're all the same as me own," the good woman was wont to say, looking round affectionately at the girls. "There's times when I have to be thinkin' which is which--upon me honour, there is." And thereupon she would roll her broad shoulders, and wink with both eyes together after her own good-natured fashion; and no one who lived in the house with her could doubt that she spoke the truth.

Elleney had only recently been added to the group; she spoke of the head of the house as "me a'nt," but she was in truth no relation to the kindly soul who had taken compassion on her destitute condition, being a niece of the late Mr. McNally's first wife. Perhaps no other woman in the world would thus have admitted her to a circle already somewhat inconveniently large; but, as Mrs. McNally said, "One more or less didn't make much differ, an' sure the Lord 'ud be apt to make it up to her, an' Elleney was a useful little girl, a great hand at her needle, an' with a wonderful turn for business, God bless her."

Mrs. McNally invariably alluded to the odd little house where her many avocations were carried on as her "establishment," and spoke habitually of "the business." It would have been hard to define the precise nature of this business. There was a bakery attached to it, over which Pat Rooney presided, driving round the country each afternoon with the results of his labours. Juliana and Henrietta McNally sold groceries at one counter, and Matilda and Maria sold calico and flannel and boots at another. Hams and stockings hung in parallel lines from the ceiling, and there was a mysterious little railed-off chamber at the back of the house, reached by a swing door, on which the word "Bar" was set forth in gold letters, with a printed legend underneath announcing that Diana McNally was licensed to sell wines and spirits to be consumed on the premises. Here Bridget and Mary Nolan held sway. They were "stale girls" in the opinion of the neighbours, and therefore, as their aunt felt, the most suited for this post. Maggie, their youngest sister, migrated between shop and bar, and spent much of her time in rolling up "ha'porths o' twist" in scraps of newspaper. Elleney, who was "tasty," and possessed of a wonderful light hand, turned her talent for millinery to account, and soon Mrs. McNally was able to add trimmed hats and ready-made dresses to the other departments of her flourishing concern. Predisposed as she was by nature to like any helpless young creature, she had rapidly grown to appreciate the girl's talents, and was now genuinely fond of her, though it must be owned that her daughters occasionably grumbled, and that the real nieces were undisguisedly jealous.

Bridget looked up now, with a sniff, as Elleney began with great haste to hand the eggs about the table.

"You've been long enough over it, anyhow," she remarked. "Mary and me was wonderin' whether 'twas milkin' the cow ye were or bakin' the bread."

"An' she hasn't brought the toast yet," grumbled Mary, drawing up her chair.

"It's very near done," returned Elleney eagerly. "Pat Rooney said he'd have it ready by the time I come back."

"Pat Rooney!" exclaimed the eight voices, in varying tones of amazement and disapproval; even Mrs. McNally's sounding forth a deep note of wondering concern.

"Pat Rooney, child! What brings him into the house at this time o' th' mornin'? What brings him here at all to-day indeed?"

"He come to fetch his pipe," explained Elleney, scarlet with confusion; "and when he seen me so run, an' so put about because I was a bit behind, he offered to stay an' help me. It's him that's makin' the toast."

Juliana McNally, a frosty-faced person, no longer in her first youth, looked round with a scandalised face.

"Did ye ever hear the like o' that?" she exclaimed. "Pat Rooney! The impident fellow! If I was you, m'mah, I'd walk him out o' the kitchen this very minute. Ye had no call to let him in at all, Elleney. Not one of us 'ud ever dream o' such a thing, would we, Henny?"

"Indeed we would _not_," returned Henny or Henrietta as she was indifferently called in the family. "Cockin' him up that way. He had a right to know better, an' not go forgettin' himself and his place altogether."

"Aye, indeed," chimed in Bridget. "Set him up! Him and his ould cart."

"Then if it was nothin' but the cart that ailed him, Bridget," returned Juliana severely, "there wouldn't be much to complain of. I'll throuble ye not to be turnin' up your nose at the beautiful new cart me mother sent for all the way to Dublin. Ye paid pounds and pounds for that same cart, didn't ye, m'mah?"

"To be sure I did," responded Mrs. McNally promptly. "There, now, don't be upsettin' yourselves, girls. Elleney didn't know any better, she's that innicent, poor little girl. She won't do it again, I'll engage--will ye, Elleney? Ye see, me dear," she added in a confidential undertone, "we do have to be very particular in an establishment like this. 'Twouldn't do for me at all to go lettin' a boy like Pat Rooney forget himself. He's a very decent boy, poor fellow, an' his mother--the Lord ha' mercy on her!--was a most respectable poor woman. But he must be kept in his place, me child, an' ye see--"

"A-ah, m'mah, in the name of goodnsss sit down and pour out the tea," interrupted Anna Maria impatiently. "I'm dyin' for me cup. An' sure ye haven't brought us anythin' at all to eat yet, Elleney. Off with you now, an' bring that same toast whoever made it. The poor child's frightened out of her wits. Sure what harm if ye did ask Pat Rooney to help ye, itself--ye can soon get shut of him again. Ju, for mercy's sake take that crabby ould face off o' ye. 'Pon me word 'tis enough to curdle the milk."

Anna Maria's own face was of the round good-humoured order. "She took after the mother," the neighbours said, and had certainly inherited a large share of kindliness and jollity.

"Faith! Nanny's right," cried Mrs. McNally, relaxing. "Go fetch the toast, Elleney, and give Mr. Pat Rooney his marchin' orders at the same time."

"What am I to say?" inquired Elleney, her eyes round with alarm above cheeks that were still crimson.

"Bid him get out of that," returned her aunt, laughing.

Elleney took up her tray, and went away with a lagging step. The kitchen door was wide open, and in the aperture stood Pat, flushed with his exertions, and holding triumphantly aloft an immense dish of beautifully browned toast.

"There now," he cried jubilantly, "I'll throuble them to put their teeth through the whole o' that in a hurry. Isn't that a fine lot? But I know they does be great aiters within there."

"I'm very thankful to ye, Pat," said Elleney, with a downcast face.

"Sure I'm not meanin' to show disrespect," resumed he, quick to note her expression, but mistaking its cause. "It's a powerful big family your a'nt has, first and last, and why wouldn't they ait? I'll tell ye what, Miss Elleney, I'll just stop here in the chimbley corner, an' if they does be wantin' any more toast I'll have it made for them afore you can turn round."

"Oh no, Pat," cried Elleney in alarm. "That wouldn't do at all. Me a'nt bid me tell ye--me a'nt said--"

"Well, what did she say, miss, dear?" inquired Pat, as she faltered.

"She wasn't best pleased," stammered the girl. "She thought I done wrong lettin' you help me; she bid me give ye marchin' orders"--catching at what seemed to her the least offensive manner of conveying her aunt's behest.

"Well, I can soon march," said Pat, in a slightly offended tone, and turning even a deeper red than before. "I'll be off out o' this in a minute."

"Sure ye're not angry with me, Pat?" said Elleney timidly, as she followed him to the door. "I'm very grateful for all ye done for me."

"To be sure you are," said Rooney, without turning his head, and in another moment the house door slammed behind him.

Elleney returned somewhat mournfully to the parlour, there to find the whole family in a state of violent excitement.

Mrs. McNally had just received a letter, which she was clutching fast with both fat hands; while the seven girls were simultaneously endeavouring to read its contents over her broad shoulders.

"If yez 'ull sit down like good children," she exclaimed, as Elleney entered, "I'll read it all out--every word. An' yez 'ull all know as soon as meself. But ye have me distracted entirely, tormentin' me the way ye're doin' now. Musha! did anybody ever see such a scrawl as the man writes?"

"Sure, I can see it plain enough from here," cried Juliana, and with a sudden deft movement she twitched the document out of her mother's hands. "I'll read it, m'mah, in half the time you do be thinkin' about it."

"Very well, me dear, very well," agreed Mrs. McNally resignedly. "Ye have the best right, afther all. It concerns you more nor me."

Juliana smoothed out the paper, and began to read in a high-pitched monotonous voice, and without any regard to punctuation, of which, indeed, in all probability, the letter was devoid.

"'Dear Mrs. McNally,--I write these few lines hoping you are quite well as I am at present thank God it's a long time since we come across each other but I haven't forgot the old times and I am sure yourself is the same I did be hearin' a while ago about the fine family of daughters you have God bless them and how well you prospered in business dear Mrs. McNally I have one son a fine young man that I do be anxious to settle in life--'

"Look at that now!" put in Mrs. McNally jocularly. "Didn't I say the letter was more for you than for me, girls?"

"Whisht! can't you whisht?" put in Henrietta eagerly. "Go on, Ju!"

"'Settle in life,' resumed Ju. 'The farm is doin' finely for me thanks be to God though I'm not able to stock it as well as I'd like these bad times.' He's lookin' out for a bit o' money, ye see, m'mah?"

"To be sure he is," responded her mother comfortably. "Trust Tim Brennan to be lookin' out for that. An' why wouldn't he, the poor ould fellow? Dear knows, it's hard set the most o' the farmers is to live at all. He's a cute ould schemer, Tim is, though."

"'There's not one o' the girls in these parts I'd let him take up with at all,' went on the reader, 'but it come to me mind that if you was willin' we might make up a match between himself an' one o' your fine young daughters--'

"Yous 'ull have all the luck, I suppose?" put in Maggie Nolan enviously.

"Not at all. What's that he says here about nieces, Ju?" returned Mrs. McNally, leaning over her daughter's shoulder, and pointing with her plump forefinger.

"'Or maybe one of them three nieces I was hearin' ye have livin' with ye I knew your poor sister Bridget R.I.P. as well as I know yourself an' I know all she done for her family.'"

"The sharpness o' that!" interrupted Henrietta. "The ould fellow knows me A'nt Bridget had a nice little fortun', an' I'll engage he made sure the three of yous has a share in the business."

"Young nieces," soliloquised Matilda, looking pensively at Bridget and Mary.

"Young daughters, too, if ye please," returned Bridget with spirit, and her glance fell upon Juliana.

"Well, go on, Ju, finish it," said Mrs. McNally, laughing immoderately. "You can all be pulling caps for him afterwards."

"'Me son,' read Juliana, 'has business in Dublin this next week an' if you've no objections he could run out on an early train some mornin' an' pay his respects to yourself an' the girls an' he can be tellin' ye all about our place an' his prospects in life he's the only son I have an' its a good farm an' a comfortable house an' many a girl would think she was doin' well for herself so hopin' you'll think well of the idea I will say no more this time yours ancettery, TIMOTHY BRENNAN. P.S.--My son Brian is six foot high an' has a beautiful head of hair he is very--' What in the name o' fortun' is that word, m'mah?"

"Hearty, is it?" said Mrs. McNally, craning her short neck. "No--happy, maybe--no, that's not it. _Healthy_, that's it! 'He is very healthy.'"

"Laws!" said Henrietta, "that's a quare thing to be sayin'. Who cares whether he's healthy or not?"

"A-ah, me dear," returned her mother sagely, "when ye get to my age ye'll know it makes a great deal o' differ--especially to a farmer. The poor d'da! Rest his soul!--well, well, we won't be talkin' o' them times, but he was a great sufferer; an' if it was a farmer he was the house wouldn't have held him. It's a terrible thing for a poor farmer to be tryin' to go about his place, an' him not gettin' his health. I'm glad this young fellow is healthy."

"Six foot!" commented Matilda, who was inclined to be sentimental.

"A beautiful head of hair," exclaimed Anna Maria, with a giggle. "Troth, if it's me he takes a fancy to I'll be combin' it for him."

"Well," said Juliana indignantly, "I think ye're takin' too much on yourself, Nanny, to go pickin' him up that way. There's others has a better right to be considered first."

"You're the oldest, of course," said Anna Maria meekly.

"There's others older nor her, though," burst out Bridget.

"The oldest daughter has the first claim," cried Juliana, with heightened colour.

"To be sure, to be sure," said Mrs. McNally nervously. She was very much in awe of her firstborn, who was indeed possessed of a considerable amount of determination. "The young man, of course, 'ull make his own choice, but I must say I think it 'ud be only becoming if it was Ju."

Juliana glanced triumphantly round on the row of crestfallen faces, and a sudden silence fell, during which Elleney, who had stood listening with deep interest, suddenly remembered the now sodden toast and handed it dutifully round.

Maggie Nolan's eyes met hers in wrathful protest as she helped herself.

"Did ye ever see sich a girl as Ju?" she whispered.

"A regular grab-all. Of course if me a'nt goes favourin' her, the poor fellow 'ull have to take her. But I pity him, aye do I."

"Sure maybe he won't," whispered Elleney back, consolingly. "He'll be apt to be pickin' wan o' the young ones--I shouldn't wonder if it was yourself, Maggie."

"If it wasn't for the money I dare say you'd have as good a chance as the rest of us," said Maggie, mollified by this tribute; "but of course the father wouldn't hear of any girl without a fortun'."

By an odd freak of fate, however, it was Elleney who first had speech with Brian Brennan when he came to seek a wife in Mrs. McNally's house. Elleney, indeed, was not in the house when his eyes first fell upon her; she was kneeling on the doorstep, scrubbing it with might and main. He had driven out from Dublin instead of coming by train, and arrived in consequence earlier than was expected. Elleney wore the pink cotton frock in which she went about her work of a morning; her sleeves were rolled up, and her skirt pinned back. Her face was flushed with a lovely colour, and the breeze lifted loose strands of her nut-brown hair, as she squatted back on her heels in answer to the stranger's salutation.

"Is Mrs. McNally within? I think she's expecting me."

"Oh," said Elleney, looking up with those big astonished eyes of hers, "is it Mr. Brennan?"

"It's that same," responded Brian cheerfully.

Elleney jumped up, knocking over her pail in her agitation, and wiped her little damp hands on her apron.

"Me a'nt is in the shop," she said hurriedly. "If ye'll walk inside I'll call her in a minute."

"A-ha!" said Mr. Brian, "you're one o' the nieces, are ye? Are the rest anyways like ye?"

"They wouldn't take it as a compliment if ye were to say so," replied Elleney. "This way, sir."

The big young man followed her into the parlour. He was a very big young man, and he had a beautiful head of hair, black and curly; and he looked extremely well fed and pleased with the world in general.

"Bless me, child, what a show ye are!" exclaimed Mrs. McNally, when Elleney breathlessly summoned her. "Look at your sleeves, and your skirt tucked up an' all. I declare I'm ashamed of my life--"

"How could I know it was him?" protested Elleney.

"To be sure, to be sure, none of us expected him; an' any way it doesn't matter about you. Here, pull down your sleeves, dear, and take my place for a bit. Where's Ju?"

"She's above, doin' her hair, and Henny's sewin' the bows on her dress."

"Well, well, I'll call them. You'll have to keep the shop goin' altogether, Elleney, this day. All the girls is wild to have a chance, an' I know ye won't mind doin' a bit extra."

"I wonder which it will be," meditated Elleney. "If I was him I'd take Nanny."

But Mr. Brian seemed quite unmoved by Nanny's rollicking charms. He was, indeed, to some extent struck by the appearance of Juliana, who, with her hair done up into what her mother called a "shin-on"--a fashion much affected when she was a young woman--and wearing a silk dress with flounces innumerable of the terra-cotta hue beloved, for some occult reason, of her kind, entered the room with an air of stately magnificence. The young visitor was very respectful to Juliana, and spoke in particularly genteel tones when addressing her. But his eyes wandered perpetually towards the door, and an acute observer might have detected a certain lengthening of visage at each fresh arrival on the scene.

When the seven specimens of maidenhood, from among whom he was expected to make his choice, were at length seated in various constrained attitudes about the room, a dead silence fell, broken only by an occasional nervous remark from Mrs. McNally, and a monosyllabic response from the wooer. The relief was general when the "decent body," engaged to help for the day, opened the door with a very black hand, kicked it still further back with a gaping shoe, and finally entered the room bearing a large tray.

A repast, which the lady aforesaid subsequently described as "sumpchus," soon adorned the board, and Mrs. McNally, with a deprecating giggle, advised Brian to sit next the partner he liked best.

He hesitated, and cast a baffled glance round the room.

"Sure the whole of the family isn't here, is it?" he inquired.

"How many more would you want?" returned Juliana, with a playfulness strongly tinged with asperity.

"Didn't I see another young lady an' I comin' in?" he persisted.

"Who in the name of wonder did he see, m'mah?" whispered Henrietta, while the others looked blank.

"I b'lieve 'twas Elleney let him in," said Mrs. McNally. "The poor fellow, he's that well-mannered he thinks bad o' sittin' down without her. We're all here that can be here at present, Mr. Brian," she remarked aloud. "Little Elleney that ye seen awhile ago is mindin' the shop for me. We'll keep a bit hot for her till I go to take her place."

"Oh! that indeed?" said Brian rather blankly. "Isn't it clever of her to be able to mind the shop, and she so young? I s'pose she's the youngest of them?"

"Well, there isn't much to choose between her and Maggie there," returned his hostess; "and, indeed, I may say the same o' my daughter Anna Maria. There is but a year between the three, one way or the other. Well, since you're so bashful, Mr. Brian, I'd best choose a place for ye. Will ye sit there on me right, between Bridget and Juliana? There does be safety in numbers, they say, so ye needn't be afeard."

"Afeard is it?" responded Brian, with simulated jocularity, though his countenance still wore an expression of dismay. "Troth! it 'ud be a poor lookout if I was that easy frightened. 'Faint heart,' ye know."

But, though Mr. Brennan was very gallant and witty, the entertainment was felt by every one to be somewhat flat, and the relief was general when the young man proposed to go outside and smoke a bit of a pipe. Mrs. McNally, however, considered it her duty to protest.

"Sure, we're not that particular," she observed, with her jolly laugh. "Don't be goin' out in the cold, Mr. Brian."

"Why, what sort of a fellow would I be at all if I could forget myself that way," he returned, rising with alacrity. "Would ye have me pizenin' the young ladies? I hope I know me manners better."

"There's no denyin' he has elegant manners," commented his hostess, as the door closed behind him. "I never wish to see a nicer young man. Well, girls, what do ye think of him!"

"The poor fellow was shy, m'mah," said Juliana. "He kept blushin' every time I looked at him."

"A-ah, g' long!" exclaimed Bridget, with startling warmth. "Not a blush on him, then! Sure, it was his natural colour; he has a beautiful complexion."

"His eyes was rovin' from one to the other," cried Anna Maria, giggling; "I was near dyin' with laughin'. You could see as plain as anything he was axin' himself all the time, "Will I have this one,' or 'Will I have that one?'"

"A-ah, not at all," cried Juliana, reddening. "I didn't see a sign of his eyes rovin'. Anybody with a grain of sense 'ud know his mind was pretty well made up."

"Listen to that, now!" laughed Nanny, who was certainly good-tempered. "You're out there, Ju. No; but I'll tell you the way it was with him. Says he to himself, looking at you, 'That one is the eldest and a fine girl altogether, but her nose is too long.' An' then he'd look round at Bridget, 'She's got a nice bit o' money,' he'd say, 'but she's a bit too old for me.' An' then he'd look at me, 'A nice healthy lump of a girl,' he'd say, 'but too many freckles.' An' then Maggie maybe 'ud have a turn--"

"Och, don't be goin' on with such nonsense, child," interrupted her mother, quick to observe certain tokens of an impending storm. "Don't let him find yez quarrellin' an' fightin' when he does be comin' back. Wait till I tell yez all he's afther tellin' me about his own place. I questioned him a bit afore yez come down."

The girls crowded eagerly round her, and she repeated with unction the description of the various glories which awaited the future Mrs. Brian Brennan.

Every one had forgotten Elleney and her little bit of dinner; every one, that is, except the new-comer, who, after casting a nervous glance at the parlour window on finding himself outside the house, had made straightway for the almost deserted shop.

Customers were not many at that hour of the day, and Elleney had only sold a pound of bacon and a couple of bootlaces since her aunt's departure. She was sorting ribbons with a somewhat melancholy face when Brian passed through the glass door and made his way to the counter.

"Is that where ye have yourself hidden?" he inquired gaily. "They thought to keep ye shut up out o' me sight, but I was a match for them as cute as they were. 'Twas a shame for them not to let you come in to dinner."

"Sure somebody had to mind the shop," returned Elleney. Then her little pink and white face dimpled all over with smiles. "Have ye chose yet, Mr. Brian?" said she.

"Bedad, I think I have," quoth Brian, gazing at her admiringly.

Elleney clapped her hands. "Oh dear, is it Juliana?"

"It's not Juliana, then," said he. "Is that the big one with the top-knot? Sure, what sort of taste d'ye think I have?"

"It wouldn't be Bridget!" cried she, laughing till every little white tooth was visible.

"That's a bad shot--I'm afeard ye're no hand at guessin'."

"I wished it was Nanny," said Elleney earnestly; "she's the best-hearted girl in the world."

"You wished it was her, do ye? Well, I'm sorry I can't gratify ye. My choice was made before I ever set eyes on e'er a one of them."

"Then ye'd no call to come here at all," interrupted Elleney indignantly.

"Whisht! Don't be bitin' the nose off me that way. Ye little schemer, ye know very well it's yerself that carries all before ye. Sure, who'd have eyes for any one else when you were to the fore?"

"Och, Mr. Brian, it's a shame for ye!" cried Elleney, with flashing eyes. "Ye've no right to come givin' me impidence that way. I'll call me a'nt."