Oh, what a happy band are we!
the Hogan twins sobbed.
When the meeting was over, Miss Barner exonerated Jimmy by saying it was icing for a cake he had smelled, and the drooping spirits of the Band were somewhat revived by her promise that next Monday would surely be Taffy Day.
On the last Monday of each month the Band of Hope had a programme instead of the regular lesson. Before the programme was given the children were allowed to tell stories or ask questions relating to temperance. The Hogan twins were always full of communications, and on this particular Monday it looked as if they would swamp the meeting.
William Henry Hogan (commonly known as Squirt) told to a dot how many pairs of shoes and bags of flour a man could buy by denying himself cigars for ten years. During William Henry"s recital, John James Hogan, the other twin, showed unmistakable signs of impatience. He stood up and waved his hand so violently that he seemed to be in danger of throwing that useful member away forever. Mrs. White gave him permission to speak as soon as his brother had finished, and John James announced with a burst of importance:
"Please, teacher, my pa came home last night full as a billy-goat."
Miss Barner put her hand hastily over her eyes. Mrs. White gasped, and the Band of Hope held its breath.
Then Mrs. White hurriedly announced that Master James Watson would recite, and Jimmy went forward with great outward composure and recited:
As I was going to the lake I met a little rattlesnake; I fed him with some jelly-cake, Which made his little--
But Mrs. White interrupted Jimmy just then by saying that she must insist on temperance selections at these programmes, whereat Pearlie Watson"s hand waved appealingly, and Miss Barner gave her permission to speak.
"Please ma"am," Pearl said, addressing Mrs. White, "Jimmy and me thought anything about a rattlesnake would do for a temperance piece, and if you had only let Jimmy go on you would have seen what happened even a snake that et what he hadn"t ought to, and please ma"am, Jimmy and me thought it might be a good lesson for all of us."
Miss Barner thought that Pearlie"s point was well taken, and took Jimmy with her into the vestry from which he emerged a few minutes later, flushed and triumphant, and recited the same selection, with a possible change of text in one place:
As I was going to the lake I met a little rattlesnake; I fed him on some jelly-cake, Which made his little stomach ache.
The musical committee then sang:
We"re for home and mother, G.o.d and native land, Grown up friend and brother, Give us now your hand.
and won loud applause. Little Sissy Moore knew only the first verse, but it would never have been known that she was saying dum--dum--dum--dum--dum--dum--dum--dum dum-dum-dum, if Mary Simpson hadn"t told.
Wilford Ducker, starched as stiff as boiled and raw starch could make him, recited "Perish, King Alcohol, we will grow up," but was accorded a very indifferent reception by the Band of Hopers. Wilford was allowed to go to Band of Hope only when Miss Barner went for him and escorted him home again. Mrs. Ducker had been very particular about Wilford from the first.
Then the White girls recited a strictly suitable piece. It was ent.i.tled "The World and the Conscience."
Lily represented a vain woman of the world bent upon pleasure with a tendency toward liquid refreshment. Her innocent china-blue eyes and flaxen braids were in strange contrast to the mad love of glittering wealth which was supposed to fill her heart:
Give to me the flowing bowl, And Pleasure"s glittering crown; The path of Pride shall be my goal, And conscience"s voice I"ll drown!
Then Blanche sweetly admonished her:
Oh! lay aside your idle boasts, No Pleasure thus you"ll find; The flowing bowl a serpent is To poison Soul and Mind.
Oh, sign our pledge, while yet you can, Nor look upon the Wine When it is red within the Cup, Let not its curse be thine!
Thereupon the frivolous creature repents of her waywardness, and the two little girls join hands and recite in unison:
We will destroy this giant King, And drive him from our land; And on the side of Temp-er-ance We"ll surely take our stand!
and the piece was over.
Robert Roblin Watson (otherwise known as Bugsey), who had that very day been installed as a member of the Band of Hope, after he had avowed his determination "never to touch, taste nor handle alcoholic stimulants in any form as a beverage and to discourage all traffic in the same," was the next gentleman on the programme. Pearlie was sure Bugsey"s selection was suitable. She whispered to him the very last minute not to forget his bow, but he did forget it, and was off like a shot into his piece.
I belong to the Band of Hope, Never to drink and never to smoke; To love my parents and Uncle Sam, Keep Alcohol out of my diaphragm; To say my prayers when I go to bed, And not put the bedclothes over my head; Fill up my lungs with oxygen, And be kind to every living thing.
There! I guess there can"t be no kick about that, Pearl thought to herself as Bugsey finished, and the applause rang out loud and louder.
Pearlie had forgotten to tell Bugsey to come down when he was done, and so he stood irresolute, as the applause grew more and more deafening.
Pearl beckoned and waved and at last got him safely landed, and when Mrs. White announced that to-day was Taffy Day, owing to Miss Barner"s kindness, Bugsey"s cup of happiness was full. Miss Barner said she had an extra big piece for the youngest member, Master Danny Watson.
Pearlie had not allowed any person to mention taffy to him because Danny could not bear to be disappointed.
But there were no disappointments that day. Taffy enough for every one, amber-coloured taffy slabs with nuts in it, cream taffy in luscious nuggets, curly twists of brown and yellow taffy. Oh look, there"s another plateful! and it"s coming this way. "Have some more, Danny. Oh, take a bigger piece, there"s lots of it." Was it a dream?
When the last little Band of Hoper had left the vestry, Mary Barner sat alone with her thoughts, looking with unseeing eyes at the red and silver mottoes on the wall. Pledge cards which the children had signed were gaily strung together with ribbons across the wall behind her. She was thinking of the little people who had just gone--how would it be with them in the years to come?--they were so sweet and pure and lovely now. Unconsciously she bowed her head on her hands, and a cry quivered from her heart. The yellow sunlight made a ripple of golden water on the wall behind her and threw a wavering radiance on her soft brown hair.
It was at that moment that the Rev. Hugh Grantley, the new Presbyterian minister, opened the vestry door.
CHAPTER V
THE RELICT OF THE LATE MCGUIRE
Close beside the Watson estate with its strangely shaped dwelling stood another small house, which was the earthly abode of one Mrs. McGuire, also of Irish extraction, who had been a widow for forty years. Mrs.
McGuire was a tall, raw-boned, angular woman with piercing black eyes, and a firm forbidding jaw. One look at Mrs. McGuire usually made a book agent forget the name of his book. When she shut her mouth, no lips were visible; her upturned nose seemed seriously to contemplate running up under her sun bonnet to escape from this wicked world with all its troubling, and especially from John Watson, his wife and his family of nine.
One fruitful cause of dispute between Mrs. McGuire and the Watsons was the boundary line between the two estates. In the spring Mrs. Watson and the boys put up a fence of green poplar poles where they thought the fence should be, hoping that it might serve the double purpose of dividing the lots and be a social barrier between them and the relict of the late McGuire. The relict watched and waited and said not a word, but it was the ominous silence that comes before the hail.
Mrs. McGuire hated the Watson family collectively, but it was upon John Watson, the man of few words, that she lavished the whole wealth of her South of Ireland hatred, for John Watson had on more than one occasion got the better of her in a wordy encounter.
One time when the boundary dispute was at its height, she had burst upon John as he went to his work in the morning, with a storm of far-reaching and comprehensive epithets. She gave him the history of the Watson family, past, present, and future--especially the future; every Watson that ever left Ireland came in for a brief but pungent notice.
John stood thoughtfully rubbing his chin, and when she stopped, not from lack of words, but from lack of breath, he slowly remarked:
"Mistress McGuire, yer a lady."
"Yer a liar!" she snapped back, with a still more eloquent burst of invectives.
John lighted his pipe with great deliberation, and when it was drawing nicely he took it from his mouth and said, more to himself than to her:
"Stay where ye are, Pat McGuire. It may be hot where ye are, but it would be hotter for ye if ye were here, and ye"d jist have the throuble o" movin". Stay where ye are, Pat, wherever ye are." He walked away leaving Mrs. McGuire with the uncomfortable feeling that he had some way got the best of her.
The Watsons had planted their potatoes beside the fence, and did not dream of evil. But one morning in the early autumn, the earliest little Watson who went out to get a basin of water out of the rain barrel, to wash the "sleeps" out of his eyes, dropped the basin in his astonishment, for the fence was gone--it was removed to Mrs. McGuire"s woodpile, and the lady herself was industriously digging the potatoes.
Bugsey, for he was the early little bird, ran back into the house screaming:
"She"s robbed us! She"s robbed us! and tuk our fence."