THE
matron
had
given
her
leave
to
go
out
as
soon
as
the women's
tea
was
over
and
Maria looked forward
to
her
evening
out. The
kitchen
was
spick
and
span: the cook said
you
could
see
yourself
in
the
big
copper
boilers. The
fire
was
nice
and
bright
and
on
one
of
the side-tables
were
four
very
big
barmbracks.
These
barmbracks seemed uncut; but
if
you
went closer
you
would
see
that
they
had been
cut
into
long
thick
even
slices
and
were
ready
to
be
handed round
at
tea. Maria had
cut
them
herself. Maria
was
a
very,
very
small
person
indeed
but
she
had
a
very
long
nose
and
a
very
long
chin.
She
talked
a
little
through her nose,
always
soothingly: "Yes, my dear,"
and
"No, my dear."
She
was
always
sent
for
when
the women quarrelled
over
their
tubs
and
always
succeeded
in
making peace.
One
day
the
matron
had said
to
her: "Maria,
you
are
a
veritable
peace-maker!"
And
the sub-matron
and
two
of
the
Board
ladies had heard the compliment.
And
Ginger
Mooney
was
always
saying
what
she
wouldn't
do
to
the dummy
who
had
charge
of
the irons
if
it
wasn't
for
Maria. Everyone
was
so
fond
of
Maria. The women would
have
their
tea
at
six
o'clock
and
she
would
be
able
to
get
away
before seven.
From
Ballsbridge
to
the Pillar,
twenty
minutes;
from
the
Pillar
to
Drumcondra,
twenty
minutes;
and
twenty
minutes
to
buy
the things.
She
would
be
there before eight.
She
took
out
her purse
with
the
silver
clasps
and
read
again
the words
A
Present
from
Belfast.
She
was
very
fond
of
that
purse
because
Joe had brought
it
to
her
five
years before
when
he
and
Alphy had gone
to
Belfast
on
a
Whit-Monday trip.
In
the purse
were
two
half-crowns
and
some
coppers.
She
would
have
five
shillings clear
after
paying
tram
fare.
What
a
nice
evening
they
would have, all the children singing!
Only
she
hoped
that
Joe wouldn't
come
in
drunk.
He
was
so
different
when
he
took
any
drink.
Often
he
had wanted her
to
go
and
live
with
them; but
she
would
have
felt herself
in
the
way
(though Joe's
wife
was
ever
so
nice
with
her)
and
she
had
become
accustomed
to
the
life
of
the laundry. Joe
was
a
good
fellow.
She
had nursed
him
and
Alphy too;
and
Joe used
often
say: "Mamma
is
mamma
but Maria
is
my
proper
mother."
After
the break-up
at
home
the boys had got her
that
position
in
the Dublin
by
Lamplight laundry,
and
she
liked it.
She
used
to
have
such
a
bad
opinion
of
Protestants but
now
she
thought
they
were
very
nice
people,
a
little
quiet
and
serious, but
still
very
nice
people
to
live
with.
Then
she
had her plants
in
the
conservatory
and
she
liked looking
after
them.
She
had
lovely
ferns
and
wax-plants and, whenever
anyone
came
to
visit
her,
she
always
gave the
visitor
one
or
two
slips
from
her conservatory. There
was
one
thing
she
didn't
like
and
that
was
the tracts
on
the walks; but the
matron
was
such
a
nice
person
to
deal
with,
so
genteel.
When
the cook told her everything
was
ready
she
went
into
the women's
room
and
began
to
pull
the
big
bell.
In
a
few
minutes
the women began
to
come
in
by
twos
and
threes, wiping
their
steaming hands
in
their
petticoats
and
pulling
down
the sleeves
of
their
blouses
over
their
red
steaming arms.
They
settled
down
before
their
huge
mugs
which
the cook
and
the dummy filled
up
with
hot
tea,
already
mixed
with
milk
and
sugar
in
huge
tin
cans. Maria superintended the
distribution
of
the barmbrack
and
saw
that
every
woman
got her four slices. There
was
a
great
deal
of
laughing
and
joking
during
the meal. Lizzie Fleming said Maria
was
sure
to
get
the ring and, though Fleming had said
that
for
so
many
Hallow
Eves, Maria had
to
laugh
and
say
she
didn't
want
any
ring
or
man
either;
and
when
she
laughed her grey-green eyes sparkled
with
disappointed shyness
and
the tip
of
her
nose
nearly met the tip
of
her chin.
Then
Ginger
Mooney lifted her
mug
of
tea
and
proposed Maria's
health
while
all the
other
women clattered
with
their
mugs
on
the table,
and
said
she
was
sorry
she
hadn't
a
sup
of
porter
to
drink
it
in.
And
Maria laughed
again
till
the tip
of
her
nose
nearly met the tip
of
her
chin
and
till
her
minute
body
nearly shook
itself
asunder
because
she
knew
that
Mooney meant
well
though,
of
course,
she
had the
notions
of
a
common
woman. But wasn't Maria
glad
when
the women had finished
their
tea
and
the cook
and
the dummy had begun
to
clear
away
the tea-things!
She
went
into
her
little
bedroom and, remembering
that
the
next
morning
was
a
mass
morning, changed the
hand
of
the alarm
from
seven
to
six.
Then
she
took
off
her working
skirt
and
her house-boots
and
laid her
best
skirt
out
on
the
bed
and
her tiny dress-boots
beside
the
foot
of
the bed.
She
changed her
blouse
too
and,
as
she
stood before the mirror,
she
thought
of
how
she
used
to
dress
for
mass
on
Sunday
morning
when
she
was
a
young
girl;
and
she
looked
with
quaint
affection
at
the diminutive
body
which
she
had
so
often
adorned.
In
spite
of
its years
she
found
it
a
nice
tidy
little
body.
When
she
got outside the streets
were
shining
with
rain
and
she
was
glad
of
her
old
brown waterproof. The
tram
was
full
and
she
had
to
sit
on
the
little
stool
at
the
end
of
the car, facing all the people,
with
her toes
barely
touching the floor.
She
arranged
in
her
mind
all
she
was
going
to
do
and
thought
how
much
better
it
was
to
be
independent
and
to
have
your
own
money
in
your pocket.
She
hoped
they
would
have
a
nice
evening.
She
was
sure
they
would but
she
could
not
help
thinking
what
a
pity
it
was
Alphy
and
Joe
were
not speaking.
They
were
always
falling
out
now
but
when
they
were
boys
together
they
used
to
be
the
best
of
friends: but
such
was
life.
She
got
out
of
her
tram
at
the
Pillar
and
ferreted her
way
quickly
among
the crowds.
She
went
into
Downes's cake-shop but the shop
was
so
full
of
people
that
it
was
a
long
time
before
she
could
get
herself attended to.
She
bought
a
dozen
of
mixed
penny
cakes,
and
at
last
came
out
of
the shop laden
with
a
big
bag.
Then
she
thought
what
else
would
she
buy:
she
wanted
to
buy
something
really nice.
They
would
be
sure
to
have
plenty
of
apples
and
nuts.
It
was
hard
to
know
what
to
buy
and
all
she
could
think
of
was
cake.
She
decided
to
buy
some
plumcake but Downes's plumcake had not
enough
almond
icing
on
top
of
it
so
she
went
over
to
a
shop
in
Henry Street. Here
she
was
a
long
time
in
suiting herself
and
the stylish
young
lady
behind
the counter,
who
was
evidently
a
little
annoyed
by
her, asked her
was
it
wedding-cake
she
wanted
to
buy.
That
made
Maria blush
and
smile
at
the
young
lady; but the
young
lady
took
it
all
very
seriously
and
finally
cut
a
thick
slice
of
plumcake, parcelled
it
up
and
said: "Two-and-four, please."
She
thought
she
would
have
to
stand
in
the Drumcondra
tram
because
none
of
the
young
men seemed
to
notice her but an
elderly
gentleman
made
room
for
her.
He
was
a
stout gentleman
and
he
wore
a
brown
hard
hat;
he
had
a
square
red
face
and
a
greyish moustache. Maria
thought
he
was
a
colonel-looking gentleman
and
she
reflected
how
much
more
polite
he
was
than
the
young
men
who
simply stared straight before them. The gentleman began
to
chat
with
her
about
Hallow
Eve
and
the
rainy
weather.
He
supposed the
bag
was
full
of
good
things
for
the
little
ones
and
said
it
was
only
right
that
the youngsters should
enjoy
themselves
while
they
were
young. Maria agreed
with
him
and
favoured
him
with
demure
nods
and
hems.
He
was
very
nice
with
her,
and
when
she
was
getting
out
at
the
Canal
Bridge
she
thanked
him
and
bowed,
and
he
bowed
to
her
and
raised
his
hat
and
smiled agreeably,
and
while
she
was
going
up
along
the terrace, bending her tiny
head
under the rain,
she
thought
how
easy
it
was
to
know
a
gentleman
even
when
he
has
a
drop
taken. Everybody said: "O, here's Maria!"
when
she
came
to
Joe's house. Joe
was
there, having
come
home
from
business,
and
all the children had
their
Sunday dresses on. There
were
two
big
girls
in
from
next
door
and
games
were
going on. Maria gave the
bag
of
cakes
to
the
eldest
boy, Alphy,
to
divide
and
Mrs. Donnelly said
it
was
too
good
of
her
to
bring
such
a
big
bag
of
cakes
and
made
all the children say: "Thanks, Maria." But Maria said
she
had brought
something
special
for
papa
and
mamma,
something
they
would
be
sure
to
like,
and
she
began
to
look
for
her plumcake.
She
tried
in
Downes's
bag
and
then
in
the pockets
of
her waterproof
and
then
on
the hallstand but
nowhere
could
she
find it.
Then
she
asked all the children had
any
of
them
eaten it—by mistake,
of
course—but the children all said no
and
looked
as
if
they
did
not
like
to
eat
cakes
if
they
were
to
be
accused
of
stealing. Everybody had
a
solution
for
the
mystery
and
Mrs. Donnelly said
it
was
plain
that
Maria had
left
it
behind
her
in
the tram. Maria, remembering
how
confused
the gentleman
with
the greyish moustache had
made
her, coloured
with
shame
and
vexation
and
disappointment.
At
the
thought
of
the
failure
of
her
little
surprise
and
of
the
two
and
fourpence
she
had thrown
away
for
nothing
she
nearly cried outright. But Joe said
it
didn't
matter
and
made
her
sit
down
by
the fire.
He
was
very
nice
with
her.
He
told her all
that
went
on
in
his
office, repeating
for
her
a
smart
answer
which
he
had
made
to
the manager. Maria
did
not
understand
why
Joe laughed
so
much
over
the
answer
he
had
made
but
she
said
that
the manager
must
have
been
a
very
overbearing
person
to
deal
with. Joe said
he
wasn't
so
bad
when
you
knew
how
to
take
him,
that
he
was
a
decent
sort
so
long
as
you
didn't
rub
him
the
wrong
way. Mrs. Donnelly played the
piano
for
the children
and
they
danced
and
sang.
Then
the
two
next-door girls handed round the nuts.
Nobody
could
find the nutcrackers
and
Joe
was
nearly getting
cross
over
it
and
asked
how
did
they
expect
Maria
to
crack nuts without
a
nutcracker. But Maria said
she
didn't
like
nuts
and
that
they
weren't
to
bother
about
her.
Then
Joe asked would
she
take
a
bottle
of
stout
and
Mrs. Donnelly said there
was
port wine
too
in
the
house
if
she
would
prefer
that. Maria said
she
would
rather
they
didn't
ask
her
to
take
anything: but Joe insisted.
So
Maria
let
him
have
his
way
and
they
sat
by
the
fire
talking
over
old
times
and
Maria
thought
she
would
put
in
a
good
word
for
Alphy. But Joe cried
that
God
might
strike
him
stone
dead
if
ever
he
spoke
a
word
to
his
brother
again
and
Maria said
she
was
sorry
she
had mentioned the matter. Mrs. Donnelly told her husband
it
was
a
great
shame
for
him
to
speak
that
way
of
his
own
flesh
and
blood but Joe said
that
Alphy
was
no
brother
of
his
and
there
was
nearly being
a
row
on
the
head
of
it. But Joe said
he
would not
lose
his
temper
on
account
of
the
night
it
was
and
asked
his
wife
to
open
some
more
stout. The
two
next-door girls had arranged
some
Hallow
Eve
games
and
soon
everything
was
merry
again. Maria
was
delighted
to
see
the children
so
merry
and
Joe
and
his
wife
in
such
good
spirits. The next-door girls
put
some
saucers
on
the table
and
then
led the children
up
to
the table, blindfold.
One
got the prayer-book
and
the
other
three
got the water;
and
when
one
of
the next-door girls got the ring Mrs. Donnelly shook her
finger
at
the blushing
girl
as
much
as
to
say: O, I
know
all
about
it!
They
insisted
then
on
blindfolding Maria
and
leading her
up
to
the table
to
see
what
she
would get; and,
while
they
were
putting
on
the bandage, Maria laughed
and
laughed
again
till
the tip
of
her
nose
nearly met the tip
of
her chin.
They
led her
up
to
the table
amid
laughing
and
joking
and
she
put
her
hand
out
in
the air
as
she
was
told
to
do.
She
moved her
hand
about
here
and
there
in
the air
and
descended
on
one
of
the saucers.
She
felt
a
soft
wet
substance
with
her fingers
and
was
surprised
that
nobody
spoke
or
took
off
her bandage. There
was
a
pause
for
a
few
seconds;
and
then
a
great
deal
of
scuffling
and
whispering. Somebody said
something
about
the garden,
and
at
last
Mrs. Donnelly said
something
very
cross
to
one
of
the next-door girls
and
told her
to
throw
it
out
at
once:
that
was
no play. Maria understood
that
it
was
wrong
that
time
and
so
she
had
to
do
it
over
again:
and
this
time
she
got the prayer-book.
After
that
Mrs. Donnelly played
Miss
McCloud's Reel
for
the children
and
Joe
made
Maria
take
a
glass
of
wine.
Soon
they
were
all
quite
merry
again
and
Mrs. Donnelly said Maria would
enter
a
convent
before the
year
was
out
because
she
had got the prayer-book. Maria had
never
seen Joe
so
nice
to
her
as
he
was
that
night,
so
full
of
pleasant
talk
and
reminiscences.
She
said
they
were
all
very
good
to
her.
At
last
the children grew tired
and
sleepy
and
Joe asked Maria would
she
not sing
some
little
song
before
she
went,
one
of
the
old
songs. Mrs. Donnelly said "Do, please, Maria!"
and
so
Maria had
to
get
up
and
stand
beside
the piano. Mrs. Donnelly bade the children
be
quiet
and
listen
to
Maria's song.
Then
she
played the
prelude
and
said "Now, Maria!"
and
Maria, blushing
very
much
began
to
sing
in
a
tiny quavering voice.
She
sang I Dreamt
that
I Dwelt,
and
when
she
came
to
the
second
verse
she
sang again: But no
one
tried
to
show
her her mistake;
and
when
she
had ended her
song
Joe
was
very
much
moved.
He
said
that
there
was
no
time
like
the
long
ago
and
no
music
for
him
like
poor
old
Balfe, whatever
other
people
might
say;
and
his
eyes filled
up
so
much
with
tears
that
he
could
not find
what
he
was
looking
for
and
in
the
end
he
had
to
ask
his
wife
to
tell
him
where
the corkscrew was.