At this moment the office door was burst open with violence, and Mrs.
Macfarlane, in her best Sunday costume, bonnet, black gloves, and umbrella included, her face very pale save the cheek bones, where two bright pink spots burned, entered the room.
"Misther O"Brien," she said in a high, stilted voice that trembled with rage, "will yu please to inform me the meanin" o" this dasthardly outrage?"
"Arrah, what outrage are ye talkin" ov ma"am?" asked O"Brien, innocently. "Sure, be the looks ov ye I think somethin" has upset ye entirely. Faith, ye"re lookin" as angry as if you were vexed, as the sayin" is."
"Oh, to be sure. A great wonder, indeed, that I should be vexed.
"Crabbit was that cause had!"" interrupted Mrs Macfarlane with a sneer.
"You"re not decavin" me, sir. I"m not takin in by yur pretinces, but if there"s law in the land, or justice, I"ll have it of yu."
"Would ye mind, ma"am," said O"Brien, imperturbably, for his superabounding delight made him feel quite calm and superior to the angry woman--"would ye mind statin" in plain English what y"re talkin"
about for not a wan ov me knows?"
"Oh, yu son of Judas! Oh, yu deceivin" wretch! As if it wasn"t yu that is afther desthroyin" my flower-beds!"
"Ah, thin, it is y"r ould flower-beds y"re makin" all this row about?
Y"r dirty orange lilies". Sure, "tis clared out o" the place they ought t"ve been long ago for weeds. "Tis mesel" that"s glad they"re gone, an"
so I tell ye plump an" plain; bud as for me desthroyin" them, sorra finger iver I laid on thim; I wouldn"t demane mesel"."
"An" if yu please, Misther O"Brien," said Mrs. Macfarlane with ferocious politeness, "will yu kindly mintion, if yu did not do the job, who did?"
"Faith, that"s where the joke comes in," said O"Brien, pleasantly.
""Twas the very same baste that ruinated me roses, bad cess to him, y"r precious pet, "King William"!"
"Oh! is it lavin" it on the dog y"are, yu traitorous Jesuit! The puir wee dog that never harmed yu? Sure, "tis only a Papist would think of a mane thrick like that to shift the blame."
The colour rose to O"Brien"s face.
"Mrs. Macfarlane, ma"am," he said, with laboured civility, "wid yer permission we"ll lave me religion out o" this. Maybe, if ye say much more, I might be losin" me timper wid ye."
"Much I mind what yu lose," cried Mrs. Macfarlane. "It"s thransported the likes o" yu should be for a set o" robbin", murderin", desthroyin", thraytors."
"Have a care, ma"am, how yer spake to yer betthers. Robbin", deceivin", murdherin", desthroyin", thraytors, indeed! I like that! What brought over the lot ov yez, Williamites an" Cromwaylians an" English an"
Scotch, but to rob, an" desave, an" desthroy, an" murdher uz, an" stale our land, an" bid uz go to h.e.l.l or to Connaught, an" grow fat on what was ours before iver yez came, an" thin jibe uz for bein" poor?
Thraytors! Thraytor yerself, for that"s what the lot ov yez is. Who wants yez here at all?"
Exasperated beyond endurance, Mrs. Macfarlane struck at the stationmaster with her neat black umbrella, and had given him a nasty cut across the brow, when Kelly interfered, as well as Finnerty and Mrs.
O"Brien, who rushed in, attracted by the noise. Between them O"Brien was held back under a shower of blows, and the angry woman hustled outside, whence she retreated to her own quarters, muttering threats all the way.
"Oh, Jim, avourneen! "tis bleedin" y"are," shrieked poor anxious Mary, wildly. "Oh, wirra, why did ye dhraw her on ye? Sure, I tould ye how "twould be. As sure as G.o.d made little apples she"ll process ye, an" she has the quality on her side."
"Letter," said Jim; "much good she"ll get by it. Is it makin" a liar ov me she"d be whin I tould her I didn"t touch her ould lilies? Sure, I"ll process her back for a.s.saultin" an" battherin me. Ye all saw her, an" me not touchin" her, the calliagh!"[2]
"Begorra, "tis thrue for him," said Kelly. "She flagellated him wid her umbrelly, an" sorra blow missed bud the wan that didn"t hit, and on"y I was here, an" lit on her suddent, like a bee on a posy, she"d have had his life, so she would."
Not for an instant did Mrs. Macfarlane forget her cause of offence, or believe O"Brien"s story that it was the dog that had destroyed her orange lilies. After some consideration she hit on an ingenious device that satisfied her as being at once supremely annoying to her enemy and well within the law. Her lilies, emblems of the religious and political faith that were in her, were gone; but she still had means to testify to her beliefs, and protest against O"Brien and all that he represented to her mind.
Next day, when the midday train had just steamed into the station, Jim was startled by hearing a wild cheer--
"Hi, "King William"! Hi, "King William"! Come back, "King William"!
"King William," my darlin", "King William"!"
The air rang with the shrill party cry, and when Jim rushed out he found that Mrs. Macfarlane had allowed her dog to run down the platform just as the pa.s.sengers were alighting, and was now following him, under the pretence of calling him back. There was nothing to be done. The dog"s name certainly was "King William," and Mrs. Macfarlane was at liberty to recall him if he strayed.
Jim stood for a moment like one transfixed.
"Faith, I b"leeve "tis the divil"s grandmother she is," he exclaimed.
Mrs. Macfarlane pa.s.sed him with a deliberately unseeing eye. Had he been the gate-post, she could not have taken less notice of his presence, as, having made her way to the extreme end of the platform, cheering her "King William," she picked up her dog, and marched back in triumph.
Speedily did it become evident that Mrs. Macfarlane was pursuing a regular plan of campaign, for at the arrival of every train that entered the station that day, she went through the same performance of letting loose the dog and then pursuing him down the platform, waving her arms and yelling for "King William."
By the second challenge Jim had risen to the situation and formed his counterplot. He saw and heard her in stony silence, apparently as indifferent to her tactics as she to his presence, but he was only biding his time. No sooner did pa.s.sengers alight and enter the refreshment room, than, having just given them time to be seated, he rushed up, threw open the door of his enemy"s headquarters, and, putting in his cried, cried:--
"Take yer places, gintlemin immaydiately. The thrain"s just off. Hurry up, will yez? She"s away!"
The hungry and discomfited pa.s.sengers hurried out, pell mell, and Mrs.
Macfarlane was left speechless with indignation.
"I bet I"ve got the whip hand ov her this time," chuckled Jim, as he gave the signal to start.
Mrs. Macfarlane"s spirit, however, was not broken. From morning until night, whether the day was wet or fine, she greeted the arrival of each train with loud cries for "King William," and on each occasion Jim retorted by bundling out all her customers before they could touch bite or sup.
The feud continued.
Each day Mrs. Macfarlane, gaunter, fiercer, paler, and more resolute in ignoring the stationmaster"s presence, flaunted her principles up and down the platform. Each day did Jim hurry the departure of the trains and sweep off her customers. Never before had there been such punctuality known at Toomevara, which is situated on an easy-going line, where usually the guard, when indignant tourists point out that the express is some twenty minutes" late, is accustomed to reply,
"Why, so she is. "Tis thrue for ye."
One day, however, Mrs. Macfarlane did not appear. She had come out for the first train, walking a trifle feebly, and uttering her war cry in a somewhat quavering voice. When the next came, no Mrs. Macfarlane greeted it.
Jim himself was perplexed, and a little aggrieved. He had grown used to the daily strife, and missed the excitement of retorting on his foe.
"Maybe "tis tired of it she is," he speculated. "Time forrer. She knows now she won"t have things all her own way. She"s too domineerin" by half."
"What"s wrong with the ould wan, sir?" asked Joe Kelly, when he met O"Brien. "She didn"t shtir out whin she hard the thrain."
"Faith, I dunno," said Jim. "Hatchin" more disturbance, I"ll bet. Faith, she"s like Conaty"s goose, nivir well but whin she"s doin" mischief.
Joe," he said, "maybe y"ought to look in an" see if anythin" is wrong wid th" ould wan."
A moment more, and Jim heard him shouting, "Misther O"Brien, Misther O"Brien!" He ran at the sound. There, a tumbled heap, lay Mrs.
Macfarlane, no longer a defiant virago, but a weak, sickly, elderly woman, partly supported on Joe Kelly"s knee, her face ghastly pale, her arms hanging limp.
"Be me sowl, but I think she"s dyin"," cried Kelly. "She just raised her head whin she saw me, an" wint off in a faint."
"Lay her flat, Joe; lay her flat."
"Lave her to me," he said, "an" do you run an" tell the missus to come here at wanst. Maybe she"ll know what to do."