MCGILLVERY
AND MCGILLICUDDY
Book II
Wisdom, Understanding, and Knowledge
“Did you set your eyes upon it
and it flew away as does the eagle?”
Dedicated to my grandfather’s loving heart and my grandmother’s practical soul, a marital combination richly rewarded throughout their
life
Foreword
Kings and
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
A Different Time and Place……………………………4
Chapter 2
A Fork in the Road…………………………………….34
Chapter 3
The Earth Opens……………………………………….59
Chapter 4
A Stone in the Path…………………………………….72
Chapter 5
Clean Faces, Fresh Air…………………………………87
Chapter 6
A Lord’s Traditions…………………………………...101
Chapter 7
Mixing Two Worlds…………………………………...112
Chapter 8
Humility……………………………………………….143
Chapter 9
The Struggle……………………………………………148
Chapter 10
A Tiny Plan………..…………………………………..158
Chapter 11
Small Gifts..…………………………………………...166
Chapter 12
A Twist in Fortunes..………………………………….173
Chapter 13
The Bottom and Top of Things………………………..181
Chapter 14
Open Paths…………………………………………….199
Chapter 1
A Different
Time and Place
McGillvery started awake, sweating and fearful, as
humans sometimes do when deeply slumbering and something in the waking world
unexpectedly rouses them to consciousness.
He lay quite still beneath a full moon.
A queer uneasiness crept over him as if he were being watched by eyes
just beyond the edge of campfire’s dying glow.
He surreptitiously prodded McGillicuddy, urging him in a low whisper to
listen loud.
McGillicuddy did as he was admonished and sleepily
murmured, “It’s just the squeak of the wagon’s sign against the wind, Gilly.”
McGillvery lay silent, endeavoring to arrange his
thoughts. Then he returned softly,
“There should be no wagon’s sign squeaking, Cuddy. We left the wagon at Deborah and Tam’s.”
Cuddy peered drowsily over the edge of his covers,
wet a finger, and held it to check the direction of the wind. A bit later, he noted quietly, “I was fairly
wrong, for the wind is not waving its hand in salute from East to West to North
to South and yet I’m quite sure I hear the wagon’s sign squeaking.”
McGillvery lay silent, eyes searching the evening
sky’s offering of stars and scattered clouds, heart thumping, feeling out of
place and out of time. “Cuddy, didn’t we
just accomplish a grand adventure involving the Father and ourselves?” he asked
timorously.
Now fully awake and quite aware, McGillicuddy
affirmed lowly, “Aye, that we did.”
A bit relieved, but not by much, McGillvery
whispered, “But I’m not remembering making a camp or going to sleep beside a
fire.”
“Nor me, either,” returned McGillicuddy’s faintish
whisper.
“The last thing we heard was Deborah and Tamara
calling us from the top of the great white stairs, wasn’t it?”
“Aye, that’s what I’m remembering,” agreed Cuddy.
Gilly, not daring to raise his head further from his
sleep bag, suggested a bit anxiously, “Perhaps we were so tired after our grand
journey that we don’t properly remember returning to Deborah and Tam’s.”
He paused a moment further and then proposed
hopefully, “Perhaps in great exhaustion we fell asleep before they reached us
and they, the strong lasses that they are, carried us home and put us to bed
right proper near our tinker’s wagon.”
“’Tis quite possible,” agreed Cuddy. “Or, it may be their lovely voices making us
run so quickly to meet them caused us to faint away in the high misty regions
of the Father’s land. Even men grander
than we, ’ave been known to faint away at the smallest instances.”
“Aye,” agreed Gilly, “we wouldn’t be remembering how
we were bedded while fainted—a man’s got no mind at all in that condition.”
Both brothers lay quietly inside their bedrolls for
some little time thinking this over before Gilly whispered, “Do you feel as if
someone’s watching us?”
“Aye, a queer, creepy feeling as if I was being
hunted,” agreed Cuddy. “You turn to the
east and I’ll turn to the west and see if we can ascertain the danger,” he
directed in his best military manner while taking firm hold on the shillelagh
he always placed inside his sleep roll as protection against predators.
The boys turned from each other and lay silently for
some time, back-to-back, peering into the darkness beyond, waiting for the
danger to either appear in full force or disappear entirely. The wagon’s sign suddenly stopped squeaking
as it properly should in the silent, dead air laying all about them.
Finally, McGillvery ventured, “I haven’t heard a
sound these many minutes.”
“Nor I,” agreed McGillicuddy.
“Then, best we be up and reassuring ourselves
further.”
“Nay,” urged McGillicuddy quietly with military
experience backing his recommendation.
“When even the night birds quit singing, there is danger nearby.”
Suddenly from the road the boys heard the sound of a
lone galloping horse running at near break speed past their camp.
“Thief!” shouted McGillvery, leaping from his
sack. “We were being robbed while we lay
silent!” he cried while pulling on his boots.
“Someone’s stolen one of the horses, sure, and they’ve made away with it
that quick!” he gasped while turning to run full speed toward the road to
recapture the purloined property.
McGillicuddy, a wee bit slower, grasped his hardwood
club firmly and raced to the end of the lane to see his brother’s nightshirt
flapping above vigorously pumping legs—legs rapidly disappearing around the
western bend of the road. Cuddy quickly
followed, putting his running into top gear, fully intent on aiding his brother
in whatever danger he may meet. The
brothers ran until they were quite out of breath, stopping some distance from
their camp.
McGillvery wiped the perspiration from his brow
while ruefully gasping, “It’s a poor thing the Lord did, when He gave man only
two legs instead of four. It quite
handicapped us when competing with the other living creatures.”
McGillicuddy nodded in agreement while breathing
heavily.
“I’m wondering if the thief preferred taking our
dear Belle over our sweet Shade,” puffed Gilly between heaving breaths.
“Perhaps ye can tell by looking at the marks of the
hooves on the road,” wheezed McGillicuddy.
“Belle always threw the left hind foot a bit when running.”
McGillvery immediately knelt in the moonlight and
endeavored to check the tracks left by the galloping animal. “I’m not sure,” he said finally,
straightening to look around. “It seems
the animal has much smaller hooves than either Belle or Shade and runs quite
straightly.”
“Aiiii, and weren’t we forgetting the gray mare,”
reminded McGillicuddy, more steady of breath.
“The thief took the gray mare, surely.”
“She would have been the better choice for riding,”
admitted Gilly. “We’ve been gone for
such a time, that by now, her hind foot should have well-cured especially with
Deborah doctoring and watching for it.”
He hunched his shoulders a bit and said, “What are ye suggesting we do
now? It’s plain the horse has galloped
with its rider down an infinite stretch of this road.”
“We’d best go back and see if the rest of our
property is in place, Brother,” replied Cuddy.
“The horse cannot be run all the night.
After checking our camp, we can follow the horse’s tracks until we find the
low thief.”
He turned round in the road, looked over fully lit
fields, and paused. “Gilly,” he asked in
a most puzzled fashion, “did we run that far from Deborah’s so we’re not
recognizing the land’s lay round this road?”
McGillvery followed his brother’s eyes across the
fields to either side of the dirt lane and said, “I’m not remembering the
countryside being so flat round her cottage.”
McGillicuddy replied quietly, “Then, we’d best
retrace our steps and see exactly where we are this evening.”
“Aye,” returned McGillvery while beginning an
anxious walk toward their campsite. The
boys rounded the last bend in the road and stopped still.
It was the more talkative Gilly who interrupted the
silence. “Do ye remember two lads going
into the Sinks to win their fortune; a Cat of tremendous size pronouncing a
curse; a covetous Madam of a very large castle speaking dearly of the value of
investments; a terrible, dark dungeon; a near hanging; a horrible war; and then
sweet deliverance from Misery’s Sorrow by a most redeeming and loving Father,
Brother?” His voice spoke this mouthful of words in a most quavering and
halting manner.
McGillicuddy shook his head affirmatively. “It’s exactly the way I’m remembering,” he
agreed.
Wishing mightily to embark on an instant retreat,
McGillvery, while looking at the view before them asked in tremulous voice,
“Are ye supposin’ it’s one of those mirages we’ve heard tell about?”
“I don’t know,” replied McGillicuddy fearfully. “I’ve never heard tell of a mirage in the
moonlight. Ghosts, goblins, leprechauns,
fairies, and angels I’ve heard tell in many stories connected with the
moonlight; but, never a mirage.”
McGillvery whispered faintly, “We audaciously dared
look on the Father, Cuddy. The Book says
no one may look on that face and live.
Do ye think we died? Perhaps
we’ve become the unearthly spirits who’re able to travel back and forth in time
and place with no limitations on their beings.”
Cuddy put his hands to his face and felt the bushy
red whiskers against his palms. “It seems I’m alive,” he asserted in a most unconvincing
manner while adding, “It would have been a cruel thing to invite us to gaze
upon such a becomingly kind face as the Father’s and then kill us straight away
for the looking on it.”
“Aye,” agreed Gilly, fervently hopeful. “We were invited to look upon it by the very
beguiling goodness of it, just as ye’re saying.
I’m not seein’ how such a charming face could be the cause of such an
unfortunate circumstance as I was speakin’ of.”
He continued slowly, “Perhaps we transgressed somehow when we left His side
running so eagerly for the real world.
Perhaps it offended Him mightily and He caught us between Deborah’s land
and His land for our inadvertent slip of mis-action. We didn’t properly thank Him for our lessons
and rescuing us from great adversity. It
was very rude of us, Cuddy, and I’m knowing an earthly King would not easily
forgive a breach of manners such as that.”
McGillicuddy thought upon this for some time and
said slowly, “No, we’re not thinkin’ rightly for the fear that’s clouding our
minds. I’m remembering Him speaking a
blessing for us when we left and I’m remembering much rich singing, singing
that was glad and joyful, not thunderously accusing two frail lads such as we
be of great wrong-doing.”
“Then, how are ye explaining the sight before us?”
wailed Gilly.
“I’m not knowing,” replied an equally distraught
Cuddy.
“Let’s be turning around and pass away from here,”
urged Gilly.
“Nay, wait,” replied Cuddy holding his brother’s
arm. “’Tis best to think before
exploding into action.”
McGillvery sincerely felt reflexive action to be the
best policy, but chose to submit to his brother’s opinion. “That’s true in many
cases. So what are ye preposing we
do?”
“We’re not given to cowardly acts. I suggest we walk forward and inspect this
situation carefully. Do ye agree?”
McGillvery did not answer. The mere mention of forward movement had
caused the hair on his head to raise as does the hair on a sheep dog when
facing its fiercest foe.
“Well, Brother,” spoke Cuddy sharply. “Are ye with me or not?”
Finally, Gilly, in a voice half-choked with fear,
replied, “Aye. We prayed for a change in our circumstances together. We’d best advance as one,” and promptly began
shuddering as does one whose nerves are overcome with extreme emotion.
As they hesitantly advanced toward their campsite,
Cuddy quickly observed their sleeping place, carefully noting their sleeping
rolls and the fire still glowing just a bit against the night air. Just beyond the tinker’s wagon, with the
moonlight playing upon its walls stood an unkempt, windowless stone cottage
much in need of new thatching and
repair.
“It’s the same cottage where we first asked for our
prospering, isn’t it?” whispered Cuddy, not really asking for the knowing he
already had inside him.
McGillvery, still shuddering as if deeply cold, bent
down and with trembling hands retrieved a large, fractured stone from the
ground. “Here’s the stone I threw
against the cottage’s wall in the upset I was feeling over our poverty,” he
agreed.
Both boys stood silently surveying the scene before
them. Hearing a nicker from the nearby
pasture, they immediately turned their heads to see Belle, Shade, and the gray
mare just beyond the edge of the stream, contently grazing the shorter patches
of grass.
McGillicuddy rubbed both eyes with weather-worn
fists as if endeavoring to clear them for better vision. “An’ what was the galloping horse we heard
when our own animals are most certainly quite peacefully grazing their chosen
pasture?”
“Perhaps it wasn’t the horses the thief was about
taking,” suggested McGillvery hesitantly.
“But what else are we havin’ of that much value
’cepting some pins and fabric?” asked a bewildered McGillicuddy.
McGillvery tossed an unnatural-eyed look in
McGillicuddy’s direction. “We left from
the Father with two full bags of gold, did we not?”
Spilling carefulness to the ground, both boys leapt
to their bedrolls turning them inside out.
“There’s nothing,” moaned Gilly.
“Perhaps the wagon,” urged Cuddy. Gilly quickly lit the lantern and both boys began
a thorough investigation of their wagon.
After a diligent hour’s search into every possible
hiding place, McGillvery turned stricken eyes toward McGillicuddy. “They’ve been stolen! An’ how could that ’ave happened? They were given as a gift from the Owner
himself. How could they be up for the
grabs of a thief? Men belonging to the
Father never miss a thing in their pastures or their homes. It’s a promise sure. What a cruel joke this is after all our hard
work and our faith put to the test in every circumstance.”
“Perhaps not stolen,” averred Cuddy.
“It’s the only explanation,” protested Gilly.
“I’m remembering hearing the sound of the horse’s
hooves as they thundered past our campsite.
It was one horse and ’e was not heavily loaded. The hooves were that lightly hitting the
ground and you yourself said the tracks on the road were not the strong, big
marks of our Belle and Shade—but that of a lighter horse. Our two full bags of gold were all we could
carry and us being the stoutest of men.
The trail on the road was that of a horse moving freely and lightly, not
heavily loaded.”
“Then if not stolen, where could they be? They’re not in any of our belongings, neither
placed openly nor secreted in our best hidden spots.”
McGillicuddy assumed the look of death bleached,
turned slowly, and looked toward the stone cottage. “Perhaps,” he said lowly, “they’re inside the
simple cottage yonder.”
McGillvery leapt from the wagon’s seat toward the
cottage with McGillicuddy chasing closely behind. He nearly made the small dwelling’s door
before Cuddy caught him and held him back.
“No,” he panted.
“Don’t enter.”
McGillvery tore his arm away and asked angrily,
“Why? Our gold may be secured there.”
“No,” commanded McGillicuddy severely. “We thought our journey began when we left
our tinker’s cart at Deborah and Tamara’s; but we’ve awakened at the same place
where we first petitioned a boon from the Father. There’s something odd about this place,
Gilly. It’s a place like a ladder to the
Father’s sweet heaven or,” and he paused almost choking on the words, “a
descent to the Devil’s hell’s depths.”
McGillvery looked fearfully at the darkened cottage
door, moved back several steps from its entrance, and asked with deep dread, “What
kind of witchery is this?”
“I don’t know,” replied McGillicuddy, fearfully
searching the night sky’s moonlit expanse for the flittering shadow of any type
of spirit responsible for such an odd prank against humankind. Then he asked most carefully, “What time of
night it is now, would ye be saying, Gilly?”
McGillvery cast eyes toward the moon’s positioning
in the sky, involuntarily trembled, and offered, “Perhaps two hours or more
after midnight.”
“And, a summer’s eve not unlike the one we first
prayed through for the Father to especially notice us, his two worthy men.”
“What are ye getting at, Cuddy?”
“I’m wondering if any of the things we’re
remembering in common, really happened at all.”
“How dare ye blaspheme the truth of our experience,
Cuddy!” objected Gilly vehemently.
“We’re men who’ve lived a most remarkable set of incidents, unparalleled
among man whether he be saint or scandalous criminal. We’ve successfully passed through the special
land that most creatures hope and wish to explore all their lives. How can a man of sensible mind such as yerself
be tossin’ out a whole lifetime of experience on the whim of a single thought?”
“I’m never wishin’ to blaspheme, but you yerself are
knowin’ something quite peculiar ’as happened to us and we’re desperately
needin’ to know the certain of it and,” replied Cuddy queerly while turning to
walk toward the tinker’s wagon, “I’m knowin’ a way we can tell exactly.”
“What are you doing?” blustered McGillvery, quickly
running to walk beside Cuddy, unwilling to be left alone in the shadows nearest
the cottage.
“I’m going to check the potato,” he said.
“The potato?”
“Aye,” he explained.
“Forgive me, Brother. But when
our stores of supply were running to such lowness, I removed one large potato
from the rest and hid it under the wagon’s seat in defense of a day when we
could no longer persist without some bit of food. If we have indeed been gone and lived a whole
lifetime of experiences, that potato should have long rotted away into a mere
powder.”
McGillicuddy raised the lid on the wagon’s seat and
with his right hand began searching for one, large potato. He suddenly leapt back as if bitten by one of
St. Patrick’s vanquished snakes and stood steadily staring at the cart’s seat.
“What is it?” asked McGillvery fearfully.
Blanching white even in shadow, McGillicuddy
approached the wagon’s seat again, reached into its compartment, and brought
forth a particularly lovely, white potato of goodly size.
“What does it mean?” cried McGillvery awfully.
McGillicuddy cradled the potato in both hands, holding
it as one holds a rare gem. “It means,”
he said slowly looking Gilly directly in the eyes, “that there must be such a
thing as two men sharing a most uncommonly vivid dream.”
“What do you mean, Cuddy?” whispered a completely
shocked McGillvery.
“I mean,” replied Cuddy forcefully, “that it’s just
as I said, we never left this campsite and all that happened to us was nothing
more than a dream of men.”
“No, Cuddy,” whispered Gilly lowly. “That’s not true. We’ve been gone for over a year. We walked into the Lord’s treasury rooms and
we’re the wealthy men, wealthier than King Solomon himself.” His voice, nearing the panicky soprano range,
denied that which was before his eyes.
“That was no dream. What is
happening right now is the dream. Wake
up,” he commanded himself and began slapping his cheeks right soundly on either
side to the point of blood-red ruddiness.
“Wake up! It’s time to wake to
prosperity and the good life promised by the Father.”
Cuddy, greatly alarmed, tried to grab hold of
Gilly’s wildly moving hands, finally insisting in a most authoritative voice, “Stop,
Gilly! Stop, now!”
Gilly stopped the furious self-punishment and
dazedly looked at his brother.
“This potato proves the fact of it,” said Cuddy
while brandishing the perfectly lovely edible under his brother’s nose. “There never was a Land of the Sinks, never
Ever-Filling Bags of Gold, never a Cat of tremendous size, nor wily priests,
nor MacKenay on the Shore, nor Lords nor Barons nor African Kings nor….”
Unable to accept the fact they had never left their
land of deficiency and despite many great and fearful circumstances—all
manfully mastered—they were still the hungry, poverty stricken lads, Gilly
backed from the potato in great horror while denying the reality of its presence. “No, that’s not true! We have been kissed with the Lord’s special
blessing.” He then advanced and gripped
Cuddy’s shoulders in a near death grip while saying, “Don’t be believing such a
lie as this. It’s a trick! A trick!
And who is best to play these kinds of tricks? The Cat!
That’s who! It’s the Cat, I tell
you. It’s been the source of our trouble
all along and if I could see it now, I’d take it on for what it is and make it
so fearful it’d never bother our prospering again!”
McGillicuddy twisted out of McGillvery’s grasp only
to turn and grip his brother in sternly strong hands, “Stop! You’re talking on the border of a rightful
mind, Brother. We’ve had something happen
to us outside our sphere of knowledge—that is true. But now it is over and we have to rationalize
it in a real world with the minds of the common sense men. Stop the whirling of yer mind for a moment
and think quietly while looking all around you slowly, Gilly. This,” and Cuddy pointed to the horses
grazing in the pasture, their bedrolls, the fire, their tinker’s wagon, and
finally the potato, before saying, “is real—what you’re seeing now in front
you, before your good Irish eyes. What
nonsense are you talking when you speak of fighting cats of tremendous
size? In real life there are no cats of
tremendous size. In real life there are
no such things as whirlpools from which one can survive! There is no such thing as a tinker bartering
and winning anything over a Baron or a Lord!
None of it was real, Gilly. None
of it,” he repeated more quietly and continued softly, “It was merely a dream
we had around midnight and here it is, the same night and we have simply
awakened from a very unusual dream.”
“I’ve never
heard tell of two men sharing the same dream.
A dream is unique to a man,” objected Gilly.
“We think that,” replied Cuddy. “But, what do we know of dreams? ’Tis not a subject we’ve read about nor
talked about with other folks either.
Perhaps outside
Gilly stood gaping at Cuddy. Then he shook his head as if to clear it and
said with careful lucidness, “By Gar, ye’re a faithless man—an unspiritual man! It’s a man like you that would be telling
Daniel he didn’t see an apparition on the other side of the
“I’m not denying the dream,” replied Cuddy calmly,
“I’m denying the realness of it. If
ye’re determined to show me it was a real thing, something beyond a dream, then
show me the Ever-filling bags that were sent to ensure the prosperity we were
promised.”
Gilly’s eyes clouded, then he turned distressed eyes
toward the cabin, while saying in a most troubled manner, “We are still in the
hands of the Cat and this is the largest trick of all.”
“Stop it, Gilly!”
“No, I won’t stop.
What else do we have? I can’t
live with one potato anymore, Cuddy. I
can’t! Not ever again!”
He turned toward the cottage with a desperate set of
jaw. “Even if this be the port to hell,
I’ll enter and reclaim that which is ours and which we have earned through
sleepless nights and earnest days of vigilance against every type of trick and
devious device of man and spirit against our gold and our prospering.”
McGillicuddy watched in horror as McGillvery leapt
through the cottage portal into the shadowy darkness beyond. For the first time in their lives, Cuddy did
not follow his brother. It was with
greatly relieved breath that, some minutes later, he beheld the reappearance of
a flustered and bewildered Gilly.
“What is it, Gilly?” he asked, quickly observing his
brother’s astonished face.
“There’s nothing there,” he replied. “’Tis only a place of dust and debris.”
McGillicuddy’s hands gripped the potato
tightly. It seemed a cruel joke had
indeed been played on good and worthy men.
His brother’s eyes roved wildly from one side of
their camp to the other. “We’ve been
given the experiences of the leaders of the land, Cuddy; and now, without the
gold we’ve sunk to the nothingness of our previous position.”
He sank to the dirt beside their fire as if
illustrating their low position in life and began a distracted staring into its
orange coals. Cuddy worriedly observed
Gilly’s posture from the darkness and waited until the dawning of the first
warming rays of the early morning sun before attempting to rouse him from his
depressed state. It was then, at the
beginning of day’s light, that he approached his brother and said gently,
“Gilly, it’s not healthy to ignore the fact of all that is around us. I’m building the fire a bit and laying the
last potato to rest for a sustaining meal.
Then, Brother,” he spoke entreatingly, “it’s time to enter the real
world and reassume our battles in the most manful manner we can.”
Gilly lowered his head and said pathetically. “It’s a sad thing to beat a man to the wall,
Brother.”
“I would beat you through the wall if it
meant I could keep my best and only friend sane and fit in mind and soul,”
Cuddy replied firmly. Then, relenting
just a little, he said more kindly, “It t’would not be the first real-like dream
we’ve had in our short lives, Gilly.”
McGillvery, deeply lost in the throes of distress,
looked at McGillicuddy with a slightly puzzled air as if not really hearing the
words. Cuddy did not follow through on
his thought for seeing the distraction of his brother. He instead began setting about straightening
their camp, taking their meal up from the fire, and keeping a watchful eye on
his brother’s set of shoulders. He was
occupied in these three occupations when round the bend came a large flock of
sheep being herded by a comely, youthful lass.
Cuddy pointed and said, “Gilly, look at the sight in
which we’ve always taken such gladness.”
Gilly appeared not to notice.
Cuddy came closer and clapped his hands smartly in
front of his brother’s face. “Gilly,” he
said sharply, “look at the flock of dear sheep and being led by a trim
shepherdess, too!”
Gilly raised his head and gazed confusedly at the
activity surging past their camp. Then, with
the energy reminiscent of a lightning bolt, he stood and frantically began
urging his brother, “Go, ask the young lass, which is the day of the week. She’ll tell you the fact of the matter and
then perhaps we’ll no longer be of divided opinion and can use our two heads
for making a useful plan for retrieving our fortune from that conniving Cat who
is quite certainly lurking somewhere nearby.”
Anxious to re-install his brother’s mind, Cuddy
nodded while saying carefully, “Will you be accepting what she says, no matter
how ill-favored her answer may be to your dreaming?”
“Of course, of course,” agreed Gilly urgently. “Hurry or she’ll be past us and we’ll not be
able to ask.”
Cuddy jogged to the side of the road, raised his
hand in salute, and called, “Ho, lass.”
The young girl raised her head and waved in a manner
most friendly while walking closer to converse with Cuddy. She began talking while approaching. “Ye’re the young lads who near scared me
brother to death last night. He was
comin’ home from
Chuckling gaily, she continued nonstop, “Father told
him it was most likely travelers campin’ by the old stone cottage, but he said
there was a high pitched squeaking that was like the hinges opening on the
gates of ’ell itself and letting pass the demons into the full moon for
dancin’. Mum crossed herself three times
and prayed for the archangel’s protection all night. Wouldn’t my brother be surprised now if he
could see it had just been two tinkers campin’ just like Father said? It’s the university education Earl Donogough
is paying for that’s makin’ a fool of ’im, sure. Why even I knew it had to be travelers passin’
through and,” she paused in her headlong rush of words before continuing, “ye’d
best be knowin’ that this ’ere cottage belongs to Earl Donogough and ’e’s not
one to be friendly with those wishin’ to stay on ’is property without
permission.”
She grinned mischievously and said, “In fact, ’e’s
not one to let folks stay on ’is property with permission so it’s not
worth your while to go ask if ye’re wishin’ to stay longer than this mornin’
’cause ’e’ll turn ye down just that quick.
If ye’re wise ye’ll be packin’ soon ’cause ’e ’as a man who patrols all his
lands and ye’ll never know when he’ll come checking on this ’ere piece of
property.”
Turning a freckled nose impudently toward
McGillicuddy while quickly looking him over in greater detail, she laughed
merrily. “Ye’ll not do for a dev’l or a
demon.”
McGillicuddy blushed deeply at the girl’s
familiarity. She was a quick talker and
forthright for a female. He laid it to
the loneliness of the shepherdess’ life while respectfully removing his cap,
holding it in one hand, brushing down the reddish brown hair around his square
head with the other, and preparing to ask his most important question.
He said politely, “Tell yer brother we’re sorry for
scarin’ him the evenin’ past. It’s most
likely the squeaking on our wagon’s sign that fooled him into believin’ such a
thing. Midnight’s the witchin’ hour and
if ’e was tired and it being a full moon, too—well, a man can think all sorts
of things when he’s traveling along the deserted lanes and byways at such an
hour.”
The young lass shrugged her shoulders and said,
“’E’s like that more so than the rest ’cause ’e’s studying the story writers at
the university. ’E sometimes forgets
what’s real and what’s story. When that
’appens, we’re all in for a treat of nonsense I can tell you that!”
“You must be quite courageous yourself to come herding
your sheep so close to the place that gave birth to such a fearful tale as your
brother told,” observed Cuddy.
Shrugging carelessly, she said confidently, “I’m not
having the same difficulties as me brother.”
McGillicuddy grinned and nodded. “Quite a bit of excitement caused by one
squeaking sign.”
He looked at the blue sky and asked nonchalantly,
“Could ye be tellin’ me the date for this day?”
She laughed gleefully and
said, “You’re not religious men if ye’ve lost count of the day.”
“Nay, not so,” replied
McGillicuddy. “We be religious men, but
we’re a little lost as to the day of the week.
If ye’ll place it for us, will help in observing the Sabbath properly.”
“It’ll be Friday, July the 27th, of
course.”
McGillicuddy hid feelings of dismay and asked, “Are
ye sure of that now, Miss?”
She looked indignantly at him and replied,
“Sure? As sure as I know the names of
each of my father’s sheep and as surely as the early apples are ripe for
picking and bakin’!”
McGillicuddy scratched his head and asked
sheepishly, “Forgive me for askin’, but what year would it be now?”
The girl looked at him oddly and began backing away
while crossing herself three times across her breast and shoulders. Before McGillicuddy could call after her
again, she had called her dogs and was herding the sheep long past their
campsite.
“I wasn’t meaning to scare ye, Miss,” he said to
himself and plunged both hands deeply into his pockets while slightly hunching
his shoulders as if to think a little clearer.
“Father in Heaven,” he said quietly, “You need to be showing a poor lad
the way for I’m a little short of knowin’ what Ye’re meaning by all this.” His right hand curled and entwined around a
strand of metal lying in the bottom of his right pocket and he began slowly
walking back to the campsite.
Gilly stood at the side of their fire searching for
the shepherdess’ answer upon his brother’s face.
“Well, Brother,” Cuddy answered slowly, “the good
news is that the horse galloping away last night was the young lassie’s brother
half scared out of his wits from the squeaking of our sign at midnight. ’E’s no thief—just a farmer’s son coming late
night home from university to be visiting his family.”
McGillvery waited.
“The bad news is that the day is July the 27th,
the day after we first camped at this stone cottage.”
McGillvery’s shoulders slumped and his face fell
into a deeply despondent sadness. Then
the spirit of hope possessed him and he began to ask, but Cuddy, reading his
face, quickly cut him short.
“Yes, I asked the year, but the wee lassie was a bit
afraid of someone who was asking the year on top o’ the day.” He looked hopelessly around. “It’s a bitter thing to believe one has
finally received their fortune only to be thrown into the depths of misery
again. But, we’re not the lads to be
giving in to despair. I’m for packing
our camp and moving on as we should. One
never knows what blessing may wait just around the corner. The dream may have been a portent,
Gilly. After all, we dreamed it in
common. It’s kind of like the King of
Babylon dreaming and Daniel seeing the same dream and interpreting it for King
Nebuchadnezzar, isn’t it?”
“We’ve no interpreter for our dream,” replied Gilly
gloomily.
Cuddy looked hurriedly at his brother, immediately
feeling relieved. It was the most
sensible thing he had said since awakening early this morning. “Well, now, we’ve an interpreter, haven’t
we? Since when have we not been able to
read the Book and not been able to ascertain the direction we should be
takin’?”
Gilly nodded half apologetically. “I’m sorry for my words. But, it’s such a grievous thing to think our
direction is not changing that much. I’d
hoped for a great deal more than we actually received. Hope is a good thing, but it can be a tough
thing to eat. We were looking for the
hard coin that spends well.”
He looked resolutely in front of him. “Yet, it is all we’ve got and we must make
the best of what we’ve got. Ye’re right
of course. I’ll hitch the horses, if you
fetch our potato from the kettle. I’ll
read from the Book while we eat our meal and perhaps we’ll find a bit of relief
from this present disappointment.”
A bit later found the boys hunched over the Book in
such deep concentration that they did not hear the horse trotting in an
easterly direction past their camp. They
did not hear the hail, nor did they hear the footsteps approaching. It was the light touch on McGillicuddy’s arm
that brought them to attention, startling them from their stone seats onto the
dirt behind.
“Laddie,” spluttered McGillicuddy. “You should be
warning a man when ye’re creeping into his camp. Ye’re never knowin’ when a man’s armed and he
might pull down on you without knowing ye’re just wanting to visit a bit.”
“I hailed,” the friendly face said. “You’ve no ears for listening for the
interest you have in your great book. I’m most heartily sorry for scaring
you. But it’s an even trade. The sign on your wagon nearly frightened all
the learning from my mind early this morning.”
The young lad grinned and pointed to the large book
the brothers were reading, “University students? I’m a student also—
“Ye’re the
wee lassie’s brother,” noted McGillicuddy.
“The fool who rode past a little after midnight at
break neck speed on a mare too old for such hi-jinks—and yes, the young
lassie’s brother. I brought you,” the
young man said while reaching into his pocket, “a bit of sheep’s tallow for
your sign to make it swing easy and proper so as to allow late night travelers
easy passage past your camp.”
Cuddy accepted the small package with a proper thank
you and the young man squatted at the side of their fire to visit with them a
bit. “Where are you going to school?” he
asked conversationally.
“Nay, we’re not attending the university,” returned
Gilly. “We be tinkers three generations
down.”
“I’ve never seen tinkers poring over the books as
you two are doing,” noted the lad.
It seemed a grand compliment and both McGillvery and
McGillicuddy beamed.
“Are ye returning now to school?” asked McGillvery
of the young fellow.
“Not till next week.
I’m on short break between classes.”
“This is the time of the year your father would be
needin’ a fine, robust, young man like you in the fields or helping with the
sheep,” admonished Gilly.
The young lad shrugged. “Yes, and sometimes I’m wishing I could stay
and do more. But all the Barons and the
Lords send their sons to university and my father’s determined I shall do the
same as their sons. He made a bargain
with Earl Donogough when I was but a lad, you see, that part of his wages for
working the Lord’s lands was a university education for myself when I was of
age. Therefore, at my father’s wishes, I
spend my falls, winters, springs, and most of the summers in
He looked quizzically at the two boys and remarked
nonchalantly, “There’s not many who read well in these parts of
Gilly shrugged and said, “Our mum saw to our reading
and writing.”
The young man looked astounded. “There’s not a female in these parts who can
read or write—not even my sister. The
women do not have the heads for it.”
McGillicuddy cocked his head to one side and
replied, “We’ve never thought a great deal about it, laddie, either way. It seems Mum could always read and we took it
as a natural thing—rather than an unnatural thing. She did have a smaller head than our own,
though. To that I’ll be owning the
truth.”
McGillvery frowned and said, “Mum also had the
smaller feet, Brother, but it made her not unable to out-walk any of the three
of the men in her family.”
McGillicuddy laughed. “She was smaller all around come to think of
it and it never seemed to affect her ability to work circles around us, too.”
“Well, the reading in a female is rather unnatural
actually,” replied the young man matter-of-factly. “Natural at the university and among the
noblemen’s sons, but unnatural among ones outside those circles whether they be
male or female.”
The young man looked over their camp and sighed, “I
would like very much to do as you are doing…the free open road, being able to
do as you wish every day, meeting new people, seeing new villages…it must be
the life of all lives.”
“It’s what our father always told us,” admitted
Gilly.
“In fact,” the young man said thoughtfully, almost
as if to himself, “your business costs are very few. Your business is your home and it costs
nothing to park your home wherever you may need for the night. A fellow could read the books all day long
while the horses followed the road and in the evenings he could write down his
thoughts and mark his days quite well it seems to me.”
He looked at the boys with some enthusiasm. “Besides these advantages, a fellow could
make a great deal of money in this business, couldn’t he? The work is certainly not bothersome. It would be a fine way to grow old.”
McGillvery’s stomach growled ominously while he
thought the young man’s sheep tallow might be awfully wasted on their sign’s
squeaking.
McGillicuddy, however, nodded at the young fellow’s
charm and said carefully, “However attractive the life may be, it seems that
times have moved forward and the tinker’s life is to be left behind.”
The wee lassie’s brother cocked his head to one side
reflecting for a moment and said, “I see perhaps this could be so. I’ve often been inside the merchandising
shops in
He looked at their tinker’s wagon. “You really don’t have much room for a wide
variety of merchandise, do you?”
McGillvery replied somewhat defensively, “When we
are at our peak, you might be surprised at what we fit into our wagon.”
“Would you show me?” asked the young man eagerly.
“Well, we’re not at our peak, now, laddie,” quickly
remonstrated McGillvery in embarrassment at their poverty of merchandise. “We’ve sold nearly everything and are needin’
to restock the entire wagon.”
“Ahhh, then you’re on your way to
Gilly looked startled and said, “We hadn’t really
made plans which way to be traveling.”
“Go to
“There’s no book larger than this one, lad,” replied
Cuddy confidently. “An’ there’s not one
as ancient either. Not that I’m
disputing your claim, but this Book is widely recognized as both wise and
wonderful beyond all others.”
“Really?”
said the lad with a great show of interest. “Show me.
A book like that is exactly what they like to have in the great
libraries.”
Cuddy gently held their mother’s Book to the lad for
his inspection.
“Oh,” he laughed.
“You are playing the joke on me!” and promptly handed the Book back to
the boys. “It’s a common book. Come to the university and I’ll show you books
more wise and wonderful than this one.”
His eyes wandered back to their tinker’s cart. “But, nevertheless, it is a good life you’re
leading.”
He stood, caught his horse’s reins, and said, “I’m
off to the neighboring village, now. The
Earl wishes to hire some of the men there for harvesting his summer
apples.”
He waved and called over his shoulder as he was
leaving, “Oh, and by the way, the Earl was asking about the wagon parked by the
old stone cottage. He’s sending a man
around inquiring today. He’s a good man,
but not hospitable about folks trespassing.
Sometimes he sends the sheriff instead of his man. You’ll need to think about moving down the
road quite soon this morning. And, don’t
forget, if you make it to the university on Monday, my invitation stands. Ask for Sean Connor. That’s me.”
McGillicuddy gently held his mother’s Book in his
hands while watching the back of the young man as he rode down the lane. He said wonderingly, “The young lad thought
nothing of our Book, Gilly. What book
could possibly be greater than a book that would give men advice for living
their lives well?”
“Perhaps he’s not knowing how to use the Book to his
advantage,” replied Gilly.
“Perhaps,” agreed Cuddy absently. “But, he was calling it a common book.”
“Well, that’s a trifling thing. The Father works best with common
things. He made Adam from dirt and
that’s a pretty common thing. And the
Commandments were not engraved on gold.
They were engraved on clay, a most common substance. Sometimes it’s in the most common of places
that one finds the most valuable of treasures.
We’re just fortunate for having the kind of eyes that aren’t missing the
valuable things because they’ve been rated common by others. We’re pretty common lads, yet the Father
hasn’t rated us as unworthy to be working with.
Think what the young lad is missing for not seeing the common thing.”
Cuddy nodded his head in agreement and then said, “We’d
best be discerning that this is the second time we’ve been warned of staying on
the Lord’s lands for long. I finished my
potato. Are ye ready for traveling?”
“Aye, that I be,” returned Gilly scuffing out the
fire and heading for the wagon. He climbed to the seat and turned to take the
Book from his brother’s hands.
“Take this, too, would ye?” asked Cuddy.
Gilly reached to take the metal strand which his
brother had just nonchalantly pulled from his pocket and held up to the side of
the cart. Instantly, Gilly’s breathing
air passed from his lungs while his countenance assumed the look of Adam’s wan
face before he got the breath of life from the Father.
McGillicuddy quickly pulled himself to the cart’s
seat, anxiously noted his brother’s greatly changed complexion, and promptly
began pounding him on the back.
“Breathe, Gilly. Breathe. It’s just a shock we’re having about others
not valuing a book as fine as our mother’s Book, but it’s not a reason for
dying now. By Jove, breathe,” and he
gave McGillvery a hard blow that might have knocked a fellow’s lungs right
through his chest.
McGillvery gasped, choked, and tried to talk. Unable to follow through with the precious
words, he held out his hand from which the metal strand dangled.
McGillicuddy asked, while looking into his brother’s
bulging eyes rather than at the object he held in his hand, “What is it you’re
trying to tell me?”
McGillvery shook his fist, full of the metal strand,
directly in Cuddy’s face. “Look,” he
managed to strangle. “Look in front of
your very eyes.”
McGillicuddy reached for McGillvery’s hand. “What is it?”
He took the strand from McGillvery, examined it, and
said wonderingly, “Why, it’s Mum’s silver necklace.”
A strangled noise came from McGillvery’s throat, his
eyes swelled with great prominence, and he struggled to say, “But it’s broken,
Cuddy. However, did you break it?”
Cuddy looked carefully at the strand. Two of the delicate chain links had been
forcefully pried apart. He raised eyes
to Gilly’s and said quietly, “You tell the story, Gilly. You know it as well as I.”
“There was a wily priest,” said Gilly gasping for
air, “who lived in the Land of the Gone Forever….”
“And he had great designs on the minds of two poor
tinkers who belonged with all their souls and all their hearts to the Lord
above.”
“And, this crafty man of the cloth removed the good
Brother’s marker from the stones they had so carefully laid to find their way
home….”
Cuddy broke in, “And while one Brother was quite
beguiled by the old one’s words, the other Brother noticed a silver strand
shining in the light….”
“And he forcefully tore it from the neck of the man
of profound spiritual guidance,” finished Gilly.
Gilly took the necklace from his brother and held it
tightly. “I told you, Cuddy. It ’twas no dream. It really happened. And our good Father has not left us in a
world of forsaken desperation; we’ve been given one small token to remind us of
the truthfulness of our grand adventure.”
His shoulders relaxed, his eyes returned to their
usual brightness and natural intelligence.
“Now we just need to understand what it all means. What would the Father be about doing—giving
us our gold and His blessing, too, and then sending us off without our gold and
the blessing just words spoken into the air?”
Cuddy scratched his head thoughtfully. “’Tis one of the greatest riddles we’ve ever
yet had, Gilly.”
“Do ye think we can solve it?” asked Gilly
anxiously. “I’ve never been good at the
riddles.”
“If it’s not in our power, surely it’s in His. If He can walk us into and out of lands and
make it appear as if we’d lived a whole lifetime of experiences in the matter
of minutes, then I’m supposin’ He can help us with this riddle.”
Gilly threw his head backwards and laughed
aloud. “It’s a grand joke, isn’t
it? Where are we, Brother? Are we in the Land of the Gone Forever or are
we in our own
“I don’t know,” said McGillicuddy queerly. “And I’m supposing there’s no real way of
knowing. We may be in a magical kingdom
of the Father’s Time.”
Gilly sobered a bit and said, “Then, what are we to
do?”
“What can we do?” asked McGillicuddy. “It seems our life is out of our hands. I suppose all we can do is to proceed in a
most worthy fashion and attempt to choose the higher path in all our dealings
with others whether they be real or the Father’s own.”
McGillvery nodded solemnly and vowed, “That we shall
do, two heads are better’n one. I’ll
help you stay by the higher path and you help me. It seems our grand adventure’s not over
yet.”
Chapter 2
A Fork in the Road
“It would help to be having a script to follow,”
grumbled Gilly as he shook the reins over Belle and Shade’s neck, heading them
toward the end of the camp’s lane. “I’m
wantin’ to make the right turn in the road, but am not quite sure how to do
that without a good angel sitting on my wagon’s seat and advising me the best
way to follow.”
McGillicuddy nodded his head thoughtfully and said,
“Let’s read the Book and perhaps we’ll find a lead to our way.” He reached to his side and opened the
Book. It fell to the very verse that had
helped launch them into their passage into oddish worlds beyond their ken.
“Why, Gilly,” Cuddy said wonderingly. “This is the verse about the country whose
stones are malachite, a place that has clods of gold—the verse I was not able
to find again no matter how dearly I tried.”
Gilly pulled the reins short. “Read,” he urged.
Cuddy quickly scanned the verses. “Gilly,” he said excitedly, “Listen to what
the next verse is saying:
‘But where is wisdom to be had from,
and what is the place for insight?
No man knows the road to it,
and it is not to be found in the land of the
living.
The deep says, ‘it is not in me’
and the sea ‘I do not have it here.’
Solid gold is not to be given for it
nor silver to be weighed out as its price;
It is not to be balanced against nuggets from
Ophir,
Against the most precious beryl, or lapis lazuli;
Gold and glass will not match it,
a thing of red gold be an exchange for it;
Pearls and alabaster are not to be mentioned,
And wisdom is more of a prize than coral;
The Nubian chrysolite will not match it,
Nor against pure nugget-gold is it to be balanced;’”
Cuddy stopped reading and said, “Seems we didn’t
read far enough before starting our search for the gold.”
“Aye,” returned Gilly wonderingly. “The words are certainly pointing to a
possession of wisdom as of more value than any other item most prized by
men.”
Then he wrinkled his forehead and said, “But the
good verse is not telling a good fellow where to find wisdom. It is merely telling where it cannot be
found.”
“This time I did not leave my hand from the place
where I was reading,” replied Cuddy confidently. “Perhaps the answer is to be found in the
rest of the reading.”
“Then, read,” urged Gilly eagerly.
“‘And where does wisdom come from?
And what is the place for insight?
It lies out of sight of any living thing
And screened from the birds of the air.
Death and the land of the gone forever say
‘We have heard a hearsay of it.’
God understands the road to it,
He knows the place for it,
Because he looks to the ends of the earth,
Sees under all the sky,
Determining a weight for the wind,
And proportioning the water by measure
When he made a law of nature for the rain
And a course for the lightning of thunder,
Then he saw it and described it,
Made it sure and thoroughly searched it out
And he said to man
‘Here, fearing the Lord is wisdom
and shunning what is bad is insight.’”
Gilly was quiet for a great long time after which he
said, “Well, then if wisdom is found by fearing the Lord and staying away from
bad things, we must be right strong wise for we do fear our Lord and we’ve
always stayed as far away from bad as a good man does from the devil himself.”
“Then, is the Father telling us we are the
successful men, just as we are?”
Gilly’s stomach growled ominously and he lamented
pitiably, “Perhaps we’re loved of our Father in Heaven for our predisposition
to goodness, but I’m powerfully hungry this morning and quite stumped out of
knowing what we’re to be doing about it short of stealing from a fellow human
being.”
“If wisdom is more valuable than wealth, we should
be seeking it,” suggested Cuddy tentatively.
“If the source of all wisdom is the Father and staying clear of bad
action, we’ve stood on that ledge for a great long while.”
“Well,” hesitantly suggested Gilly, “perhaps there’s
a series of steps needin’ to be taken for a worthy man to be finding all the
faces of wisdom—something like a ladder we’re needin’ to climb just as we
endeavored to climb the ladder to prosperity.”
“Perhaps,” agreed Cuddy cautiously. “And, in fact, I’m now remembering a few
words Mum taught us long, long ago. She
said, ‘Wisdom is on the side of modest men.’”
“Well, we’re not too awful proud.”
“She also had us learn a verse about wisdom by heart
and I’m still knowing where it is to be found.
Here, listen:
‘Is not wisdom calling
and intelligence sending out her voice?
On the brows of wayside eminences
At crossroads she takes her stand;
At the sides of gates, at the entrances of towns
At the approaches to gateways she holloos….’”
“But, we’re knowing that already, aren’t we?”
interrupted Gilly a bit edgily. “We’re
knowing we’ve become a little wiser from every person we’ve met, from every
place we’ve ever traveled we’ve learned and gained.”
“Aye, that’s the truth of it,” agreed Cuddy. He bent his head to the Book and began
reading again.
“‘To you men, I call,
and my voice goes to humankind:
Appreciate shrewdness, simpletons;
Fools, provide yourselves with brains.
Hear, for I will speak sound sense,
And what my lips are opened for shall be correct,
Because my throat breathes truth
And wrong is an abomination to my lips,
All that my mouth says is on the right side,
There is nothing tricky and crooked in it,
It is all obvious to a man of understanding and
plain to those who find knowledge.
Take my instruction and not silver—
Knowledge is preferable to hard gold;
For wisdom is a better thing than coral
And all valuables are no equivalent for
it.’”
Cuddy bent his head to read silently and then began
reading aloud again.
“‘I love those who love me,
and those who go in quest of me will find me.
Riches and honor I have on hand,
Goodly resources and a right-doer’s
standing.’”
Cuddy looked at Gilly and said excitedly, “That’s
exactly what we’re looking for, isn’t it, Gilly—riches, honor, resources, and a
good standing among our fellow countrymen and our Father?”
“Aye.”
“We found the gold, but it did not bring us that for
which we wished, did it?”
“Nay, and it seems to have taken the wings of an
eagle and flown away from our grasp.”
Cuddy again bent his head to the valuable words and
observed, “There’s a kind of ladder presented here, Gilly. Did ye notice it? It talks about first pursuing knowledge,
secondly obtaining understanding, and finally wisdom.”
“We’ve chased the knowledge of our Lord all our
life, Cuddy—by reading His Book.”
“Aye,” agreed Cuddy quite perplexed.
The boys sat on their wagon’s seat at the end of the
lane pondering that which they had read.
Finally McGillvery turned to Cuddy and said, “I’m not readily seeing an
application to our current circumstances in the reading. That leaves us needing to use the best
knowledge we have at hand to make our decision as to where we’re to go this
day. The facts are: we’ve no real
merchandise to be selling.”
“An’ no money to be buying more,” reminded
McGillicuddy.
“Then, if we go west, we’ve a definite promise of
greater starvation unless we found our Ever-Filling bags along the roadside
just waiting to be retrieved and,” McGillvery added, “that’s not likely with
the Cat being such a covetously greedy creature.”
“Aye, an’ if we go east, we’ll come to
“That may be a good thing.”
“Aye.
“Well?” asked Gilly.
“To
“Aye,” agreed Gilly, giving a small flick of the
reins to the back of the horses’ haunches.
“Hi-up Belle. Hi-up Shade. You’re the horses to see the fine town along
the sea.”
As their tinker’s wagon headed east, McGillvery
turned to take a last look in the direction of the stone cabin. He said, “
McGillicuddy grunted, waiting for Gilly to complete
his thought. “I’ve been thinking this
whole affair has been more like we’d been meddling with the Leprechaun King and
his treasure rather than the Lord’s treasure.”
“Ye’re thinking all these happenstances are more
like the natural work of that rascally little devil?” asked Cuddy, quite
surprised.
“P’rhaps so,” frowned Gilly and then his face
suddenly cleared as readily as clouds after a small shower. “Nay, we were taught at our mother’s knee
that it is impossible for the Father to lie and having His blessing, if we
think just a bit about it, is worth more than two bags of gold. He’s not one to play tricks on His favored
men as would a leprechaunish personality.”
“Aye, that’s true,” agreed McGillicuddy. “Besides ye’re needin’ to remember we never
learned about the fairies and the leprechauns from our mum. We learned those stories from our playmates
down the way. And what would those
children know? Their parents were as
pagan as could be; Mum told us so herself.
She said proper proportions would see one through all things. The Book speaks of the Father and His ways
abundantly, the Devil and His ways sparingly, and never even mentions the
Leprechaun King. If we pattern our
conversation accordingly we’ll be men having confidence for successful speech.”
McGillvery clicked his tongue smartly against the
roof of his mouth, urging Belle and Shade’s ambling walk into a more energetic
stride while McGillicuddy continued to philosophize.
“And yet, good and bad can come from the
Father. Remember Job and the most horrid
of things the Father allowed to happen to him.”
McGillvery instantly began making a series of
saintly signs in the air while looking to the heavens, “Forgive what he said,
Father. Don’t be bringing on us Job’s
circumstances. We’re good men, but we’ve
never had the plenty to lose as he did.
We can read all about him in your Book; we’ve not a need to experience
his woes ourselves.”
McGillicuddy nodded his head vigorously while noting
a small breeze which again stirred in among the trees they were passing
alongside the road. “And, it’s not
deviltry that’s happened to us. We’ve
had a most interesting experience that is fit to tell to generations of
children.”
“Aye, our story should be worth a seat by many a
home’s fireside clear until our old age.
It’s not a story to grow old soon.”
The boys rode for a small space and then Gilly
asked, “How do ye suppose the Father was able to compose a lifetime of
experiences within the short few minutes we slept?”
“I’m not
knowing,” mused McGillicuddy. “Perhaps
there’s two ways to walk through time.
You know, like when some days seem to drag on exceedingly long and
others just aren’t long enough. Maybe
there is a straight line from one moment to the next we can walk and maybe
there’s a longer, meandering route that can be walked from one moment to the other. Possibly we took the shorter route while
others routinely take the longer route.
That would account for us experiencing a whole year in just an hour.”
“The Book does say the Lord’s time is not our time,”
agreed Gilly.
“Aye,” continued McGillicuddy, “if He is capable of squeezing a thousand
years into a single day, then He is certainly capable of squeezing a whole year
into a few moments past midnight.”
“But for what purpose, Cuddy?”
“I’m not knowing unless perhaps it was a vision
having something to do with our future—kind of a fairy tale to let us know in
advance of the actual circumstances.”
Gilly shuddered, “I’m not wantin’ much to be thrown
into a prison again and be that near a hanging rope and I’m certainly not
wishing to see a valley full of the dead of
“Aye, and me neither,” agreed McGillicuddy with
great intensity. “Perhaps then, it was
not so much a portent of things to come but a warning as to how we are to
conduct ourselves in all things which pertain to a prospering of folks like
ourselves.”
“Let’s hope that’s the case and that we took our
lessons to heart,” fervently spoke Gilly.
Gilly’s eyes grew misty and he relapsed for a bit
into feeling sorry over the great fortune he had lost. “One would think that when the Father has
given His blessing on one’s efforts and granted that which one has asked, that
the requested thing should appear in the hand and the rest of one’s life should
be spent in something resembling the Garden of Eden revisited. But here we are where we started and a day
hungrier and not a whit enriched.”
Cuddy gently chided, “It’s not really true
that we are not a whit enriched.”
“How so?”
“In our heads
we’ve a knowledge about ourselves and experiences shared we did not have
before. That’s a richness of its
own. We also heard our Father’s blessing
on our life. That is something we can
treasure. While good men share the
blessing if they but have the faith to reach out and secure it, we’re a little
different because it’s been plainly spoke for us.”
Gilly openly
beamed, “You’ve hit upon something grand, Cuddy. I’m remembering David had the blessing spoken
for him. The word was he would have a
kingdom. Solomon had the blessing spoken
for him. The word was he would be a wise
man. The good Wandering people had the
blessing spoken for them. The word was
they would be a free people and have a land of their own. We’ve just entered the ranks of the spoken
for, Cuddy.”
“Aye, and for that we’re in good
company.” McGillicuddy took a
multicolored handkerchief from a much worn pocket and gently wiped the midday
perspiration from his forehead. “I’m
thinking a man’s word hasn’t much power without the Father’s backing,” he
said. “And it seems from our grand dream
that we’ve got the Father’s backing in our possession.”
“Well, I don’t see any means of procuring a good
meal for myself from that possession,” replied McGillvery a bit testily over a
severely complaining stomach.
“No, wait just a bit. I’ve an idea coming steady and sure.”
McGillvery sat quiet.
“We know we were given the blessing. We heard it as the last words spoken in the
Father’s Kingdom. When David, Solomon,
and the good Wandering People had the Lord’s spoken blessing, they were able to
see the blessing leap out of the world of words into the material world. So,” continued McGillicuddy, “since we’re
blessed, all we have to do is act like we are and proceed with a plan.”
“’An there I’m disagreeing,” contradicted
McGillvery. “Not just any plan will
do. It would have to be something He
approved of in its entirety.”
“If there were no wrong attached to it, He couldn’t
be disapproving,” argued McGillicuddy.
“It may be He always approves of a good man’s plan and already has
forces set in action to help a worthy man’s plans along.”
“Aye, but perhaps there’s something He’s needin’
done on the earth and if we were a part of that something that’s needin’ done,
we would find ourselves in a river of prosperity and goodness.”
McGillicuddy raised his eyebrows at Gilly and said,
“For instance?”
“Well, for instance perhaps it’s His will for people
not to be sewing with needles any more, but to be sewing with machines, like
the one we saw at the fair last year. He
has the idea and some person on earth has got to get that idea. Whoever gets that idea and acts on that idea,
gets the fortune, too. Or, like the idea
of the snaps on clothing or finding one of the new medicines…you understand,
Cuddy?”
“Kind of like when a King is deciding to build a
road across the country and men decide to be a part of his plan and each is
prospered according to the part he plays in the plan.”
“Yes, that’s it!” said McGillvery excitedly. “All we got to do is figure out what He’s
planning to do next and be there. Then
we’ll be on a sure start toward regaining our Everfilling bags.”
McGillicuddy scratched the side of his ear
thoughtfully and said, “It’s a mighty good idea, Gilly; but, I’m a little short
of knowin’ how we can read the Lord’s mind about what ’e’s planning to do
next. ’An even if we did know what He
was schedulin’, there’s a heap of things neither of us are capable of doing. For instance, if He was preparing to deliver
the idea of the machine that does the sewing like we saw at the fair last year,
even if he gave us the blueprints as complete as Noah’s
McGillvery grimaced at the tangled mess of thoughts
in his mind and for a bit of relief from such severe thinking, looked at the
sun and remarked, “It’s getting on near the mid-day meal, and it seems powerful
hot to me today.”
“It’s just because ye’re hungry,” replied
McGillicuddy, changing the subject comfortably.
“If ye had a full meal in your insides, you wouldn’t be feelin’ the heat
at all.”
McGillvery set his jaw and looked hopelessly upon
the comfortably ambling haunches of Belle and Shade. “It’s quite a view we have from our tinker’s seat,”
he complained gently.
“Not quite as grand as the libraries filled with
leather bound books and tables set with plenty,” admitted McGillicuddy. “And yet, if we raise our eyes just a bit,
the view is quite lovely.”
McGillvery raised his eyes beyond the tinker horses’
well-padded haunches and looked around at the scenery before them. “Ye know, Brother, we’ve always let the road
guide our way. Wherever it went, we
went.”
“It’s the way of a tinker,” returned Cuddy. “And, perhaps is the way of all men—following
along wherever it seems best to go.”
“Well, now,
it seems ye’re right in this instance—a body should have a plan of some
kind. We didn’t really have the
intention of ending as do most men, did we? Following the road wherever it may
go seems like a mindless river running to the sea.”
“Or a river running out in the desert sand.”
“Once it gets there—whether sea or sand, ’tis no
longer fresh, useable water, and its strength is well used and lost.”
McGillicuddy was silent and then said, “The problem
with setting a plan, Gilly, is—it could fail.”
“Aye, failure can be a largely devastating instance
even for the most faith-filled men—a serious damage to a fellow’s hopes and
beliefs in the good Father’s helping hand,” acknowledged McGillvery.
“Perhaps we should be continuing just as we are and
letting the Father make the best out of our life as it is,” resigned
Cuddy. “It’s a true fact that for Him,
out of nothing comes something. Being
that it seems we are kind of nothings on the face of the earth, we can be the
humble lads and let the Father make something out of our sorry condition.”
McGillvery
thought about this for a while and then said, “And, perhaps that’s how a man
keeps ambling down the road and at the end of his life has nothing to show for it. For the Father will always keep us and He
has, but not necessarily in the plenty and comfort we’re desiring. In our grand dream, it seems we developed a
plan and we took action on that plan and most of the time we were not knowin’
whether the Father was helping us or not and despite fearsome circumstances, we
kept working our plan and in the end it turned out quite well.”
“What were the circumstances that led us along
charting such a path?” asked Cuddy meditatively. “Are ye remembering them?”
“We had a great need.”
“We had a great desire.”
“We thought about it some.”
“We asked for supernatural help.”
“We talked about it some.”
“We acted in faith on a plan we had spoken with
words into the air.”
“We believed we had permission from Someone greater
than ourselves to think, to talk, and to act on a grand plan and we acted and
defended ourselves in every instance as if that Someone was backing our
prospering in every way.”
“That’s it in a smallish nut’s shell.”
“When things did not happen exactly as we wished,
what did we do?”
“We kept our thoughts, our words, and our actions,
didn’t we?”
“Aye. We kept
them as a fine three-fold cord working all strongly for the same purpose
together.”
“We weren’t unraveling our cord, were we?”
“Nay, we did not—not even in the face of severest
provocation. A little discouragement is
not the time to break the cord into fragmented pieces.”
“Sure, that’s the
truth. It’s seemin’ to me King David
didn’t get his kingdom all at once.
Seems he was allowed to grow a little.
He did acts of courage with Goliath and then was recognized by the
King. He was around a king’s court for a
time and developed friends in high places.
Then he spent a great long period in the company of men not so well
thought of with responsibilities for doing the right thing at all instances for
himself and his men. Then, finally, he
was given a kingdom. But even with his
prize in hand, his life did not go easily.
I would not say it was an
McGillvery nodded
his head judiciously, “Aye. For that
ye’re right. Even the wandering people
after being given their promise had to fight for its appearance into the real
world.” Gilly suddenly turned to Cuddy
excitedly saying, “You have said another something quite grand, brother,
without perhaps knowin’ what ye’ve said.
The good Wandering people failed to understand the process of making
promises come true the first time, didn’t they?
And, their promise did not come true for themselves. But in the second instance, their children
did not misunderstand. They took up the
grand fight at
Cuddy smiled a bit
at his brother’s zestful action and added sensibly, “It seems making something
real is akin to having the most severe of birth pains and if one is not willing
to have those pains then the thing will not be given life.”
Gilly’s mouth
dropped open in astonishment. “Cuddy,
the truest of words are pouring from your mouth in a rich stream. We’re not lads of holding back and not
pursuing the prize. We didn’t hold back
once in our grand adventure, did we?”
“Nay, we did
not. We pressed through to the end
despite fearsome obstacles to overcome.”
“Then that should
be a portent for us as to how we are to act, now that we are in
“Aye,” spoke Cuddy, catching some of Gilly’s
excitement. “Thinkin’ back over all the
stories we were told by our dear mum, I’m realizing our Lord is not much one to
hand out the promises without a fair share of sweat and work to receive them on
the human end of things. Therefore, all
we’re needin’ to do is move forward understanding that the fortune and blessing
is already ours, we are just in need of working for it.”
“I’m willin’ to move forward, Cuddy. Where and what are we to move forward to?”
“That was our original question, wasn’t it?”
“Aye, it was,” replied Gilly, suddenly sitting down
on the wagon’s seat as if he were a balloon which had been instantly deflated. He hung his head and said in a most woeful
manner, “We just talked ourselves into a circle.”
Cuddy wrinkled his face into a tight knot of concentration
and then abruptly said, “I don’t know where we’re to move forward to. Even the wandering people had a direction in
which to go. They were shown the step of
their way. I’m not really seeing the
next step of our way.”
“Perhaps if we’re lookin’ like we’re ready to go and
keep moving along, it will come to us,” suggested Gilly.
“Aye,” said Cuddy doubtfully.
“Perhaps we should look for those treasury rooms
again or for a rich vein of gold in the mountains,” suggested Gilly.
“In truth,”
sighed Cuddy. “I’m not really even
knowing what gold or rich ore would look like unless it had been piled high in
a room full of nuggets like the Lord’s treasury rooms. If we was presented with a stone and told it
was one of rare value, I’d not know it from a piece of glass. We’re both a little short of knowledge about
such matters.”
Gilly lowered his head humbly. “We’re a little short of knowing about many
things, Cuddy,” he agreed.
“We’re fair knowledgeable about picking a good horse
and striking a fair bargain,” spoke Cuddy a bit defensively.
“Well, that’s a start, isn’t it? And our Mum taught us the fair dealing
manners that belong to the Lord’s own men.
We’ve not to overcome a rearing that didn’t tell us the truth about
those matters.”
The same wind that has played through the tops of
the trees along their way, drifted into the road and quietly wafted through
Belle and Shade’s manes up to the wagon to ruffle the pages of the Book lying on
the seat between them. Cuddy picked the Book from its place on the seat, placed
his hand on the page, and after reading silently for some time, said, “It’s a
piece about three men who were slaves in a land not their own. They had no property nor status in the world
and in truth, sounds as if they were much the worse off than we are, and it
says the King requested their education at the university in
“That’s a pretty story,” replied
McGillvery. “But, I’m not seeing how
it’s helping us to take the right turn in the road.”
“’An me neither.
Seems to have no relevance at all,” puzzled McGillicuddy. “Is there another help?” he asked while
handing the Book to Gilly.
Gilly closed the Book and opened it again. “It’s a piece in Proverbs, Cuddy,” he said.
“Begin reading.”
“It’s saying that we should be ‘giving a listening
ear to wisdom and directing our heart to intelligence.’ It says, ‘If we hunt for it as we would for
silver and search for it as we would for buried treasure, Then we shall
understand the fear of Jehovah and find the knowledge of God because Jehovah
gives wisdom and out of his mouth come knowledge and intelligence.’”
“Perhaps,”
hesitated Cuddy, “the verse is not telling us about the searching for the
wisdom so much as it is telling us not to go searching for the hard coin.”
“But we’re needing the hard coin!” objected Gilly
mightily.
“Aye, but maybe the coin is to come natural
like. Maybe it’s a shy thing that when
it’s pursued, it runs blushing into the shady woods never to be found.”
“It wasn’t too shy when we’d plenty of it.”
“Aye, but perhaps it’s like a wife to be wooed. Shy at the beginning and telling you to mind
yer manners at the end.”
“Let’s take the advising verse to pieces word by
word and see if all these years we’ve been missing something.”
The boys were hunched over the Book in such deep
concentration that they were nearly passing by Earl Donogough’s estate before
taking notice. Gilly turned to Cuddy,
eyes strangely alight, and said, “Did ye notice how the young Sean Connor said
that he was attending the university with the sons of the Nobles and
Lords? I’m not knowin’ much about such
matters; but it has occurred to me if the Lords and Noblemen are so careful to
send their children to university, there must be something of value in it. I can’t imagine such wily men spoiling their
children’s time with anything that is un-worthwhile.”
Cuddy did not reply.
“Sean Connor said they could all read and
write. It may be that their fathers long
ago read the Book’s story of the three slaves and how going to university
worked out so well for the slaves. They
may have decided that if a university education could work out so well for a
slave, it might work out quite well for a nobleman’s son. This story says that one of those slaves
lived all his life in a palace while maintaining a position of honor and
influence. I can’t imagine such a slave
ever having gone hungry unless he especially wished it. Perhaps the Noblemen decided the university
education would always be helping their children along toward a higher life.”
Cuddy solemnly replied, “All the education in the
world cannot hold a godless man from ill circumstances, Gilly. That slave was a favorite of the Father for
his goodness. I’m not seeing how a
university education could do a Nobleman’s son much good if he was not a good
man himself to go along with the education.”
“I’m not disputing that, Cuddy. First, comes fear of the Lord. It is the first rung for all Ladders leading
to successful places. We will build from
that rung in order to have a foundation firmly planted. Nevertheless, while that slave knew a good
deal about his Lord, he also became the university man.”
“So, what are ye drivin’ at?”
“Maybe there’s more than one kind of wisdom. Maybe there’s the wisdom one gets from
reading the Book and maybe there’s another wisdom one gets from places like the
university. Maybe the Father is wantin’
us to have a little of both kinds of wisdom in order to do well—to be the
well-balanced men. Do ye remember what
that verse said about the Father? It
said He was ‘determining a weight for the wind, and proportioning the water by
measure, and making a law of nature for the rain.’ Seems He is powerful knowledgeable to be
weighing the wind. I’m thinking we’ve
always studied His personality and the ways He deals with men and the ways men
are to deal with each other to please Him well.
But, that isn’t the only thing the Father is about…he also is a
designer, a mathematician, an engineer, a physicist, a doctor, a maker of laws
(a lawyer), a writer, a speech-maker, and ever so many more things. In addition to studying His personality, it
seems we could choose one of the other facets of His being and endeavor to be
the best men we could be in imitation of that facet of His person.”
“Ye’re
thinkin’ we’re supposed to be knowin’ things like how to weigh the wind?”
“I’m not certain of the value of knowin’ something
like that; but perhaps in some places on earth it would be right valuable to
know how to do such a thing. We’re not
knowin’ much about how other people live and think beyond those we sell to
every day, Cuddy, and in truth those people are the poor of the land. We’re not invited through the Noblemen’s
gates and are not knowin’ the things they value, think, or talk about.”
“Are ye thinkin’ the Lords and Nobles sons are
knowin’ those kinds of things—like weighing the wind—and we’re to become more
like them?”
“I’m not sure imitating a man is as of much value as
imitating our Father in Heaven. After
all, men make the mistakes and our Heavenly Father is quite free of those
mistakes. Seems it would be the higher
calling to imitate the higher example.
However, the Book doesn’t say much on how the Father weighs the wind and
the Lords and Nobles would have to be instructing us in such matters for us to
learn. So I’m feeling maybe we’re
needin’ to be around the places they are around. We’re wantin’ to have the life they
have. We’re wantin’ the hard coin. Maybe by associating with the people who have
the hard coin, we can be catchin’ on to the knowledge and perhaps catching on
to the hard coin in the process.”
“Hard coin is
usually got by hard work,” objected Cuddy.
“An’ I’m not one to object to that, but I’m seein’ a
whole Irish stewpot full of men working their lives away till they can’t work
no more and out of all that work the best of them have earned no more than a
place by a child’s fireside, a rocker, and a bowl of stew to gum down at end of
day. It hurts me so to think that after
a whole life’s work that’s all a fellow has to show for it. If work alone was such a touted thing, there
should be a little more to show for a man’s whole life.”
“I’m not seeing much wrong with earning a place by a
fireside, Gilly. It’s the way of all
things from the birthing to the dying.
What are ye fighting so against, Brother? It seems you’re fighting life itself and the
way things go on this earth.”
“Well, what if a man didn’t work all his life, what
would he have at the end of it? Someone
would feel just that sorry for ’im and sit ’im in a rocker and feed ’im ’is
stew just the same. He gets the same
reward for no trouble as the man who troubled himself all his life. But, you take the rich man—there’s something
different about him. I’m not sure if he
works or he doesn’t work, so I’m not able to judge on the value of work in his
case, although from small observations it seems to me they’re quite busy telling
others to go to work while sitting in their chair a great deal of the time, so
I’m thinking it is their tongue that works more than their other bodily
muscles, but they sit in a fine castle with an accumulation of lovely things
upon which to occupy their eye and never see a shortage of all the little
delicacies that can make the pain of old age go away just a mite. So, I’m not seein’ a direct relationship
between the pains of work and the opulence a man desires.”
Cuddy said, “Our Father made it a natural law that
man must work, Gilly. After the Garden
of Eden it was a requirement laid on all men.
I’m not seein’ how a fellow can disregard a natural law and have any profit
from that ignorance. Even King Solomon
said that by every type of hard work there would be a benefit. We may not understand the work that a rich
man does…but in fact, he may keep the longer hours and work much harder than we
with greater discipline thrown in on top of it.
We’re not knowing the truth of it and it’s not a good thing to be
judging. The truth of the matter may be
that it is an unnatural thing to have wealth in great abundance. It seems everything on this earth likes to
settle out at low places. Look at water
and how it does—always looking for the lowest place to run to. Money may be the same and to keep it from
doing that may take a prodigious amount of energy. It may be the wealthy men have long ago
learned how to work prodigiously to keep it in place and just naturally pass
that work ethic on to their children.
And as far as opulence, well, there’re different kinds of opulences for
different kinds of men. Mum used to say
in her old age that out of all the treasures of the earth, none brought more
joy to her eye than us. I would think a
man whether rich or poor would find his eye lighting on his children and his
children’s children the richest treasure he possesses. As far as the delicacies that may be eaten,
what is more delicious in helpless old age than a stew served by the hand of
someone who loves you a great deal? It
seems to me that is the richest treasure a man can find on this troubled
earth. Truth to tell, Gilly, that
treasure is found only through a lifetime of good deeds, loving action toward
others, a kind tongue, and a helpful disposition toward all.”
“Well, aren’t you the sagacious one? Just as if children by the pampering and
feeding and loving and spending one’s whole youth on rearing them will
automatically turn into the most grateful of creatures who will spoon feed old
men at their fireside with lovely little cooings of delight at their
presence. That’s a bit weak-minded,
Cuddy. Ye’ve seen good and worthy men
abandoned to the poor homes by children living their own lives without regard
for an aged parent. Ye’ve seen council
meetings scornful of the poor and feeble ones who’ve they’ve a necessity to
provide sustenance and delivery from starvation and homelessness by taxing the
citizens of their villages and provinces.”
“I thought we was talking about the luckiest of the
aged, Gilly,” reminded Cuddy.
“Well, if that’s what got ye started talking
nonsense, then let’s talk about the unluckiest.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Then let’s talk about the most of them.”
“I’d rather not them either.”
“We weren’t talking about the elderly at all when we
first started this conversation anyway,” said Gilly querulously. “We were talking about the value of work and
I was saying I don’t see much value in it for gathering a surplus of hard coin
for the reason that the most of men work mightily all their lives and they
don’t possess the coin. So, my idea is:
there is something that a rich man is doing that a poor man is not doing and by
doing that thing a wealthy man becomes wealthy and by not doing that thing a
poor man stays poor.”
“I thought we long ago said it was due to the Lord’s
blessing that a man garners surplus.”
“That’s the first thing and primary thing, most
certainly, the base upon which all the rest is situated, but there’s something
more, something those wealthy men have in common, something they share alike
between them that allows them to partake of a broader range of life.”
“And?”
“Well, don’t you have ears? I’ve been trying to tell you. Those men all send their children to
university and I’m thinking it’s there that they learn a terrible secret that
helps them secure and maintain their wealth.”
“Gilly,” said an exasperated Cuddy. “Why did you have to go all around the barn
instead of coming straight away through the front door and speaking your mind
about what your conclusion is? I’m not
agreeing with you in this instance. Did
ye notice Sean Connor and how he was wantin’ to ride on the wagon seat all day
and read books while looking at the countryside? That seemed a little worthless to me and him
having a Mother and Father to be helping.
Did ye notice his hands now? Soft
and white like a woman’s. If that’s what
the university education does for a man, I’m thinking it made the brain as soft
as the hands and I’m not wishin’ a part of it.”
“Well, why do ye think we’re going to
“I wasn’t going for a university education!”
“Didn’t ye get the whole thing that’s just
happened? Ye were wantin’
direction. How much more direction can
you get than that? A young fellow
mistakin’ us for students and practically inviting us to the university, the
story of the slaves and them getting their education, and then the suggestion
that we seek for the intelligence as hardily as we would the gold of the
Sinks. How much more direction are ye
needin’ than that? It’s a fierce shame
to be thick-headed, Brother!”
Cuddy stubbornly shook his head. “We can read and we can write. We’re good lads. What more can the university teach us of good
morals and proper standards of living than we already know?”
“I’m sure not knowing, but it’s a place valued by
them that has greater position on this earth than we do and I’m all for trying
to better ourselves if we at all can!”
Cuddy was astounded, dumbfounded, shocked, stunned,
amazed, and flabbergasted. Finally, he
shook his head a bit while thinking it had never been their way to be at odds
on any subject. “Two heads are better’n
one,” sighed Cuddy unenthusiastically.
“Off we go,” he said, taking the reins with a firm shake.
“I’m detecting a bit of reticence, Brother,”
objected Gilly. “Why would that be? Didn’t we have the same goal?”
“Aye, but maybe just different ideas on how to get
there.”
“Then, let’s forget our own ideas and stop by the
side of the road and ask One higher than us to show us a final way.”
Belle and Shade once more dutifully stopped and
resumed the swishing of tails against the occasional fly while the brothers
bent their heads to their mother’s Book.
“Finding treasuries of wisdom and knowledge will get
you through your times.”
“There do ye need any more proof than that?”
“Nay,” said Cuddy resignedly. “Mark it down in Mother’s Book. Two good lads are beginning a new adventure
into an unknown land. May the Father of
us all bless and prosper his two worthy men.”
Chapter 3
The Earth
Opens
When a good man makes his mind to do something, a
smallish path opens in the world allowing room for a footing in life. Little tendrils push up from good soil giving
him a boost here and there, helping him along his way. Because Gilly and Cuddy had made their minds
to obtaining an education, the very ground beneath them began to swell in
undulating waves for the express purpose of helping them make a proper tactical
approach to a new way of being. It was a
remarkable thing how their circumstances began to immediately change for the
better.
The Brothers were long past the Donogough estate
when Cuddy looked ahead of the horses while nodding briskly. “There’s that inhospitable cottage and I’m
seein’ the brawny man standing out front wavin’ frantic arms and comin’ this
way.”
“Most likely someone stole one of his sheep last
evening and ’e’s wantin’ to blame us,” complained Gilly. “Hi-up Belle.
Hi-up Shade,” he urged in an effort to get the horses past the turn in
the lane leading to the man’s cottage.
The man began yelling in a most blustery manner
causing Cuddy to reach and to pull the reins short. “There’s no sense running
from trouble,” he admonished. “We’ve
done no harm.”
“I’m for passin’ by,” sighed Gilly as Cuddy clambered
from the top seat of the cart to see about the man’s business.
“Well, Brother,” said McGillicuddy, returning some
moments later, “we’ve been asked for late breakfast with tea and the man wishes
to look over our gray mare.”
McGillvery looked dumbfounded.
McGillicuddy shrugged and said, “I can smell the apple
tarts baking in the oven.”
“Well,” hesitated Gilly doubtfully, “there’s not a
tart made in Ireland worth being caught in a kitchen with a belly too full to
run while a crazy man’s pullin’ a gun from behind the stove.”
“I’m thinking it’s all right,” reassured Cuddy. “He spoke most kindly to me and the
invitation seemed quite sincere. Who’s
knowin’? Perhaps he had an argument with one of his workers or even his wife
last night just before we pulled into his yard.
When a man’s got his temper flaring over one matter it’s not a good time
for discussing anything until he’s had time to settle down a bit.”
Not convinced, Gilly allowed Belle and Shade’s
patient turning into the lane and once again approached the cottage door which
was neatly flanked on each side with
“Cuddy, do ye smell the herring frying?” asked
Gilly, surprised at the rich smells rolling from the cottage windows.
“Aye, I do,” he grinned, much pleased. “The woman seems to be making for breakfast
the same as she made for supper and we’ll not miss a bit of it this morning for
we’ve a proper invitation.”
Belle and Shade stopped at cottage door and the man
came out saying, “Nay, not here. The
animals look as if they could use some grain.
Unhitch your cart and I’ll have one of my farmhands take the horses to
pasture while you sup with me and my wife.”
The boys refrained from exchanging amazed glances
with each other, lowered their heads to unfasten Belle and Shade’s reins,
untied the gray mare from the back of the wagon, and soon were sitting at a
white linen cloth-covered table filled to over-brimming with plentiful helpings
of finest breakfast fare prepared at the hands of a very good cook.
Silence prevailed for the space of nearly an hour as
the boys competed with the brawny man in goodly shares of apple tarts covered
with dollops of the thickest part of the cow’s cream, pan prepared potatoes
laced generously with garlic and onions, herring fried to crispy brown piled
high on platters of white ceramic, and the ever present plates of lamb chops
dipped in a batter of flour and egg baked in butter and peppercorns. Large pitchers of cool milk sat at the elbow
of each brother with generously filled sugar bowls and personal pots of tea
placed directly in the front of the plates.
The woman smiled encouragingly at the boys
throughout the meal while adding to the soda bread’s disappearing pile with
fresh slices kept warm in oven. Finally,
McGillicuddy pushed his chair back from a severely diminished table and said,
“Sir, you’ve beat me sure. I would like
to partake of everything else on this table for the goodness of it, but I’m as
full as a good Irish lad can be.”
The woman beamed and said, “I’m packing the
leftovers for your journey. My man eats
only fresh and our boys are all out to field today.”
McGillvery nodded his head and said, “It’s a rare
thing for a bachelor tinker to be eating a good meal—and a meal like this made
by one with such a gift for the culinary arts—well, that’s a once in a lifetime
treat. I’m thanking ye truly for yer
hospitality.”
The woman’s oven flushed cheeks decidedly took on a deeper
colored hue from Gilly’s sincere compliment and she turned to begin packing the
soda bread and tarts in brown paper while placing the lambs chops in the bottom
of a large wooden crate. The master of
the house pushed his chair back to the wall and gazed benevolently at the two
tinkers. “We’ve time to do business,
now. First I’ll be talking to ye about
your gray mare and then the missus will be looking at yer wares.”
Cuddy nodded and leisurely poured a third cup of tea. “The mare’s a sound one. We traded for ’er up North a few weeks
ago. She’s been following our wagon
since and getting’ better day by day.
She seems to have had a stone bruise to her hind right foot.”
“’An ’ow old are ye supposin’ ’er to be?”
“I’m thinkin’ she’s right young by looks of her
teeth. The man who traded ’er said she
is trained for buggy or riding and can pull field plow in a pinch although
she’s not built much for that.”
“She’s foaled before?”
“Aye. He said
she’s ’ad one colt and he thought she might be that way again but not by his
plannin’. ’E lived next door to Lord
Danby and Danby’s stallion was over the fence a couple of times to visit.”
“Blooded line perhaps comin’ out of that mare,
then?”
“Perhaps. The
lad said the stallion throws true and it wasn’t worth the Lord’s wrath to have
a colt running free with the stallion’s marks on it so he thought it best to be
tradin’ since she bruised her foot, too.”
The man rubbed his chin with just a hint of greed
showing behind shrewd eyes. He pushed
his chair to the side, laced his boots, and stood. “We’ll be going to look at ’er.”
McGillicuddy drank the last sip of his tea and they
followed the man to the lower stone barns.
The gray mare had been placed inside a stall and was quite content
licking the last bits of grain from an aged wooden trough. Belle and Shade were outside in the pasture
grazing alongside a stream. By the
positioning of the gray mare, the man already had intentions of making her his
own. McGillicuddy sighed happily; this
looked to be an easy trade.
But the man was shrewd. He removed the mare from stall into sunshine
and began examining her with the eye and hand of an expert. He finished by feeling her belly and having
McGillvery trot her round and round in a very large circle and then in a very
small circle. He finally nodded and
said, “How much?”
“What ’ave ye got in trade?” asked Cuddy.
“Nay, not trade.
I do me business in hard coin.
What comes onto my place stays on my place. I buy well and keep better,” he said.
Cuddy straightened visibly. It had been many a long winter since anyone
had offered hard coin for their products.
He cleared his throat and said carefully, “Name your price.”
“Nay,” shook the man’s head. “Ye name your price.”
McGillicuddy thought for a moment and said, “For a
tinker, ’tis not polite to name before the prospective buyer. Please, name your price.”
The man looked at McGillvery and said, “Trot her
round in circle again.” He carefully
watched the right rear foot and said, “I’ll be feedin’ an keepin’ ’er without
work in return until she’s well and then there’s always the off chance she’ll
not mend.”
The dickering had begun. Cuddy launched into what he did best with the
proper admitting comment, “Aye, that’s true,” and then the smallish rebuttal. “However, she’s an easy keeper. Without grain, has a great deal of vigor and
strength. Stays fat on grass alone.”
The man considered this carefully and said, “If
she’s with foal, I’ll have the added burden of the foal to keep and the
training.”
“’An it may have a sire of thoroughbred origin and
it’ll be like having two horses for the price of one.”
“Aye,” agreed the man, “however, that’s a gamble
since it’s not sure of her being with foal and there’s always the chance of
losing her while attempting to birth.”
“But she has successfully borne before this and no
troubles at it. Being the horseman you
are, you’re well knowin’ it’s the first bearing that’s the dangerous one.”
“All this talk without knowin’ for sure if she’s
with foal,” returned the man. “’An
there’s always the chance her foot won’t heal.”
The mare was standing sideways to the man flicking
her ears back and forth at a summer lazy fly.
Somewhere to the south of them McGillvery seemed to hear a hay swathing
machine rolling. He imagined richly
laden fields of green quietly surrendering to the insistence of the cutting
blades. He had a rich sense of peace
throughout the bartering process. He was
practiced enough, as was Cuddy, to know the man was already set to buy and
would do so before long. He relaxed in
the drowsing sun and swatted the fly as it occasionally meandered from the mare
into his domain while thinking about the excellent breakfast and the fine
wooden box the woman had packed for their journey. He was startled out from his daydreaming by
the man saying, “Done!” in a rather loud voice.
“Put her in the barn, lad,” the man ordered. “An’ now the missus will have a look at your
wagon’s wares.”
The boys trudged up the hill toward the stone house
to unload their fabrics and pans.
“Bring them in.
Bring them in,” the woman urged.
“I’ll not be standing in the heat of the day to make my decisions.”
Soon the main room of the house was fairly lined
with all the merchandise McGillvery and McGillicuddy had to offer. Somehow it looked much less shabby when
spread around the room in inviting positions enticing the buyer to
purchase. McGillicuddy even brought in
the ceramic dish set covered in gold and red roses that his father had
purchased so long ago and had never been able to trade or sell. It was the first thing the woman set upon.
“It’s a grand theme, isn’t it?” she noted. “Of course, it’s a bit old fashioned. I’ve not seen that pattern since me mother’s
day.”
“Aye,” admitted McGillvery. “It is near twenty years old and a complete
set, brand new without use.”
“Brand new and twenty years old?” she marveled.
“Aye, a purchase of my father’s and us not wantin’
much to be rid of it for the sentiment attached to it.”
She looked at him and said, “Then it was not wise
that you set it in front of my eyes for I’m determined to have it. Does it have a matching teapot?”
“No, Ma’m,” replied McGillvery.
“Then that takes down the worth of it somewhat,” she
noted.
“However,” McGillvery said, “you’ll notice the
unusual addition of a gravy boat, porcelain ladle, dessert dishes, and serving
spade with matching gold and roses.”
“Aye,” she said.
“That I’d noticed, but what a shame there’s no teapot to go with the
lovely cups.”
“I was noticing the charming pot you served with
this morning. Do ye happen to have it
handy?”
“Aye,” she said, fetching it quickly from the top of
the cooking shelf.
“There now, isn’t that pretty?” asked McGillvery
setting it in the middle of the gold and rose pottery. “Seems to match, doesn’t it—with its delicate
white color and fancily trimmed handle with the gold around the rim?”
“That it does,” she said with wonder. “My, what an eye you have for noticing even
my serving dishes.”
“T’was a marvelous table you set, Ma’m. It would take a hard eye not to notice the
details of care you put into each part of the breakfast.”
The woman blushed crimson and said, “What is your
price for the set?”
“What ’ave ye got to trade?” asked McGillvery.
“No trade,” said the woman. “My man deals in hard coin only.”
“Name your price,” said McGillvery with just the
correct amount of quickness.
To Gilly’s surprise, the woman named a goodly
sum. He nodded his acceptance and moved
to the fabrics. “For such a lovely set
of porcelain, you’ll be needin’ fabric to show it to its best advantage and
enough of the material to be making serviettes to match, of course. May I recommend this sateen cloth purchased
from
“Aye,” said the woman fingering the fabric carefully. “And what is the thread count of this
particular piece?”
“Four hundred,” said McGillvery. “Not often does one see such fine
weaving. It will be durable for many a
long year of heavy use.”
And so the rest of the day went until the woman had
purchased nearly everything in their tinker’s cart. Around three in the afternoon, she finally
stood and said, “That’s all I’ll be needin’ and my man will settle accounts
with you.”
The man had been dozing in the corner chair while
his wife measured, counted, and purchased innumerable items. He came awake as if queued and said, “Let me
see your tally sheet and I’ll check it with mine and hers.”
He walked heavily into the kitchen and sat at table
laboriously going over the figures. In
an hour he finally motioned with his hand and said, “We’ve purchased a fair lot
of merchandise from you boys. I’m
looking at the total and I’m seein’ a substantial outlaying of hard coin. I’m not much one wantin’ to part with so much
coin at one setting. You’ve saved my
wife the cost of a buying trip to
McGillicuddy said, “What do ye have in mind?”
“I’m thinkin’ to take 15 percent off the total price
as a fair way to settle the day.”
McGillicuddy leaned over the table and looked at the
final figure. “Let me speak with
McGillvery for a moment and see if he’s agreeing.”
The boys went into the entryway for a moment and
McGillicuddy said, “McGillvery, it’s hard put to come by coin and the total is
that grand that I’m thinkin’ we can afford the 15 percent.”
McGillvery nodded his head in agreement and the boys
returned to the kitchen table.
McGillicuddy said, “May I take a look at the papers again and show
McGillvery?”
The man nodded and McGillicuddy took great care
showing the totals to McGillvery while McGillvery nodded his head approving the
long list. “What say you, Brother?”
“Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t give a
farthing for such a deal as that,” returned McGillvery. “But in the case of this house, because of
its great Christian hospitality and for the generous nature of the lady in
feeding us, I would be pleased to accept the man’s offer, McGillicuddy.”
McGillicuddy looked at the man and said, “Then the
deal is done and we’re wishin’ a blessing on the house and the merchandise
you’ve purchased from us this day.”
The man nodded, well pleased with the acceptance of
his dealing. He reached deeply into a
large leather bag at his side and pulled three heavy coin sacks from its depths
for counting the exact amount to McGillvery and McGillicuddy.
By four and thirty in the afternoon, the business
being concluded, McGillvery loaded the few items the woman had not purchased
into their cart along with the very large box of food and they went their way
with the man and woman waving the boys on their journey until they were out of
sight.
“Did ye ever suspect such a thing from that house?”
asked McGillvery wonderingly.
Cuddy shook his head, marveling. “Never,” he said firmly.
“Did ye feel the weight of the sacks?” asked Gilly.
“Aye. Even
Father and Mother never did so well in one stopping.”
“It seems our fortunes have changed, Brother.”
“Perhaps so.
Perhaps so,” acknowledged Cuddy.
“If ye’d reach into that box, I’d eat a bit of soda
bread and herring.”
“Did ye ever see such a plentiful supply of food?”
wondered Cuddy as he opened the box and pulled brown paper wrapped parcels from
its interior. “She even packed a bit of
marmalade, butter, cheese, and I’m seeing a fair laying in of fresh summer
apples, too. It seems she placed an
extra supply of lamb chops other than those at table to the side. I’m handing you your herring and biscuit now,
Gilly. Reach for it.”
“Mmmm,” replied Gilly biting into a large mouthful of
fish and bread. “A bit of tea would go
well with this now.”
“There’s a large tin of tea placed in the corner of
the box. I’ll prepare some for the
evening,” promised Cuddy.
“A large tin of tea besides all this richness? The lady certainly had a large change of
’eart.”
“That’s to her everlasting favor. It’s a good act to be hospitable to strangers
and foreigners in a land. ’Tis the Irish
way and a good one to my way of thinkin’.”
The boys were passing a field on their right filled
with men mowing and raking grass for winter hay. One of the men raised his hand in friendly
salute and another called, “Ye wouldn’t be having some pins, would ye? My wife’s needin’ some.”
“Aye, we do,” returned Gilly, quickly stuffing the
last of the fish and biscuit into his mouth, and pulling their wagon to the
side of the road.
The man loped to the side of the fence while several
of the other fellows called, “Buy all he’s got, Jacob, and we’ll take some to
our wives, too.”
McGillicuddy climbed into the back and pulled their
last box of pins from its place on the floor while the man reached deep into
his pockets. “I’ve only ten coin,” he
apologized. “Will it be enough?”
“A fair trade it seems to me,” said Cuddy, carefully
pocketing the coin and handing the box out the back of the wagon.
The man looked inside the wagon and said, “What else
are ye havin’ to sell?”
“We’ve some scent for the ladies and a bit of green
satin ribbon for their dresses.”
“Hullo!” hollered the man to the rest of the
laborers. “These men have favors for our
womenfolk.”
The men lay down their rakes and scythes, walked
leisurely to the field’s edge, and gathered round the back of the tinker’s cart
while engaging in good natured bantering about the scent from the bottles
McGillicuddy had lined for them to appreciate.
“That’s a tall bottle, MacDoodle. Sure ye’re buying it for yer wife now?”
“An’ what would Mary be doin’ with that bottle of
scent? Dowsing it on you before ye’re
comin’ to bed, I’ll bet.”
The men’s camaraderie continued until every bottle
of the scent and every roll of the ribbons had found its way into a masculine
pocket and a great deal of coin had found its way into the pockets of
McGillvery and McGillicuddy.
“Since when have men hailed from the fields for our
wares, Cuddy?” asked McGillvery as they were finally settled and pulling away
from the field.
“Not anytime in my remembering,” replied
McGillicuddy.
“Let me see one of those coin,” said McGillvery.
Cuddy handed one of the coins to McGillvery and he
bit hard into it.
“Whatever are ye doing that for?” asked Cuddy in
amazement.
“Just making sure we aren’t living in some kind of
dream world, Cuddy. It’s hard coin sure
enough.”
Re-pocketing the coin, McGillvery pointed
ahead. “The crossroads—are ye having any
further doubt as to where these two lads should be turning?”
Cuddy frowned and said, “Are ye still asking that
question? We’re set for the university,
Brother. We’ve been given a fiduciary start
and we’re on our way.”
“Then,” said Gilly shaking a rein over Belle and
Shade’s backs, “let’s be on our way,” and the horses obediently took the right
turn in the road.
Chapter 4
A Stone in
the Path
Just as they circled along the road leading to
“We’re off to university to acquire wisdom and
knowledge,” answered Gilly truthfully.
“Off to university to acquire wisdom and knowledge?”
repeated the priest.
“Aye, that we are,” affirmed Gilly innocently.
“Now, how could it be that two tinkers would have
come by enough money to attend university?
A whole year’s wages of the common man will be spent for the acquiring
of that less than holy knowledge.”
“We’ve been blessed by the Father and we’ve come
rightly by hard coin to pay our way,” owned Gilly happily.
“Hard coin?” asked the priest, moving closer to the
wagon’s seat. “It’s not seemly that two such
fine young men would allow the university to take hard coin away from
them. Didn’t ye have the proper
rearing? The church should have well
taught ye that to have a blessing one must first give to the Lord. Have ye tithed your hard coin, lads?”
Gilly looked shamefully down at his hands. “Nay, we haven’t done our tithing,” he
admitted meekly.
“Ye’re well knowin’ that the top of the coin must go
to the church in order for the bottom layers to be properly blessed. What a fortunate circumstance I wandered
along your path this day. You may tithe
me and I shall pronounce a blessing on your store.”
McGillvery blushed deeply red. “I’m most heartily sorry for it, Father. But, if the price of the university is a
year’s wages like ye were just sayin’, we’ll be needin’ all our coin. For we’ve not that much in store.”
“And havin’ the rest be cursed? Ye’re well knowin’ that failing to tithe can
cause plans to go sadly awry. You could
find yourselves in the sad predicament of looking for twenty barrels of oil and
coming up ten short of expectations.”
“Don’t be cursing us now, Father,” gently demurred
Gilly. “We’re upright lads who are in
great need of all our coin—coin which we believe our Father has given us for
this Godly endeavor.”
“Now, how would two lads such as ye are, be knowin’
the desires of the Father? Are ye
hearing voices speaking to ye now?”
“Nay, we just read in our mum’s Book and we follow its
direction,” spoke Gilly truthfully.
“But how are ye knowin’ ye’re reading the direction of
the Lord or the direction of the Devil himself?
The good Book says that His sheep will know His voice. Are ye truly knowing the voice of your Lord,
boys?”
Gilly was quiet before the black robes.
“Ye see, lads, the Devil makes himself into an angel of
light and he disguises himself to be like the good Lord and he would well be
capable of having ye read in a certain way that could lead to your eternal
destruction and damnation.”
Quite disquieted at the old one’s words, Gilly exclaimed
out of greatly disturbed heart, “What shall we do? We’re not wanting to be in an offensive
position before our Lord. We’ve always
looked to the heavenly hope, not the darkness and pain of that world below.”
The priest gazed intently into Gilly’s eyes and said,
“The University is a foul place full of demons and men’s philosophies. To eat at that table is to eat at the table
of the devil himself. No good shall ever
come out of a man who has entered those profane doors, for when he departs that
unholy place, he will leave changed into the embodiment of evil, belonging
heart, mind, and soul to the greatest Son of Impiousness—and we’re all knowin’
who that is.”
Gilly shuddered knowingly and gripped Cuddy’s arm, “How
could we have been making such a mistake, Brother? Didn’t we read that we were to seek wisdom
and knowledge and haven’t we been quite sure that it was at university we would
find those two things?”
Cuddy was quiet and did not respond. He was thinking deeply on all that was
said. Finally, he asked, “Father, are ye
knowing a person who has gone to university and become a godless man in that
effort?”
“Let me tell you a story,” said the old priest. “There was a poor lad belonging to a
God-fearing woman and he was wishing to raise himself in the world. He looked at the Noblemen’s sons. He noted they all went to university. He told his dear mother, ‘Mother, I am that
sorry for the condition we are in and I would like to keep you as do the Noblemen
their families, but the labor of my hands is not sufficient to carry you through
your old age and many sicknesses. I’m
wishing to honor you as commanded by our Lord, but it will take coin to do that
and I’m thinking the place to procure the coin is at university.’”
Gilly looked quite astonished, “Why, Father,” he cried
tremulously, “the laddie was thinking just what we innocent lads were
thinking.”
“It’s not an uncommon thought, my son, just a misguided
thought as ye shall see when I have finished my story. The young boy went to university and he began
studying all the day and working all the night.
His poor mother baked his potatoes, washed his clothes, and did without
many goodly services and comforts had the lad worked for a good wage instead of
studying all the day. But she was the
finest of loyal Mothers and daily followed her son’s progress while serving him
faithfully on crippled, poorish legs.
What the lad did not understand is: university is made for the
Noblemen’s sons, not the poor lads. He
was ill prepared for the work required of him while the Noblemen’s sons were
disciplined from their youth for the tasks set before them. While they were able to accomplish their
academic responsibilities easily and spend evenings frolicking with friends,
the lad was obligated to work at his studies.
Soon, for the strain of endeavoring to overcome a lifetime of poor
preparation, the young lad found himself unable to find time to observe
Sabbath. He no longer accompanied his
Godly mother to church for the effort he was putting into his studies. He quit the tithing, for the cost of the
books were far beyond his means, and he dipped into that which belonged to the
Lord for his own needs. Rarely did his
mother receive the desired kiss on the withered cheek or the comforting hand on
her furrowed brow from a son who loved her, for the lad worked the 24 hours and
the 7 days per week. Now even we know,
laddie, that there’s only one who is tying a man’s hands so tightly that he
doesn’t even hold in his grasp the one day of rest commanded by our Lord.”
“The Slanderer himself,” supplied Gilly, raptly intent on
the old one’s words.
“Aye, the Diabolical One had trapped the young man so
that little time was spent in the Lord’s house and all the time was spent at
university.”
“Did he fail then in his efforts to acquire the education
because of his despising the Lord’s dwelling?” inquired Gilly tentatively.
“Nay,” refuted the priest. “He graduated a Philosopher of Science.”
“Well, then,” admired Gilly grandly. “The Lord would surely have forgiven him a
few years at His house for the lad’s good intentions. Now he could better serve his dear mother
more properly and compensate for the sore years leading to his graduation.”
“One would think so, one would think so,” mused the old
one. “But the university had taught him
well and he no longer had the respect for the commandments. Does not the commandment say to honor your
father and your mother?”
“Aye, but how could the young lad be side-stepping that
commandment? He was going to university
to honor his mother quite well.”
“But, the university’s an inflexible place, my son. It teaches young men many harsh lessons. The young lad began believing his mother had
quite sinned against him by not providing him a place in the world such as the
Noblemen’s sons had been afforded. He
began entertaining a positive disregard for the woman who had nursed him in his
youth and began despising her tiny efforts at providing his meal and washing
his clothes. He told her, ‘I can get a
maid to do better that for which you do for me.
What value are you, feeble female?’”
“Fie,” burst Gilly, “what a heathen the young lad
became—to cast away a heart who prized his very life true, as if that love were
of no value!”
“Ahhh, but the fact is university teaches laddies such as
you that those who cannot turn the coin quite rapidly and garner large amounts
of it have no value on this earth. The
young lad drew his lessons well and turned them against his loyal and most
loving childhood protector.”
“An’ how could ’e be doin’ that?”
“How could he? He
spent his youth studying the books. What
wife would have him now? What wife would
he have? He set loftily rapacious eyes
on a Nobleman’s daughter for the gold she could bring. He well knew the Nobleman’s daughter would
have disdained his mother for her poverty, her talk, her manners, and her
dress. Future children would never be
allowed to play in his mother’s home for its poverty.”
A slight sickness began welling inside Gilly’s
stomach. He asked lowly, “What happened
to the old Mother?”
“The son was just that bothered his mother would ruin his
prospects that, after diligent preparation on the eve just before Christmas, he
stirred more than a bit of the sleeping drop into her tea and cut the fire in
her room. She slept through the night
becoming death-cold without ever waking again.”
“This is an awful tale ye’ve told,” cried Gilly
emotionally. “The son should have been
drawn and quartered and hung on the gates for all to see—a despicable man who
did not love his mother! And her serving
him all the years he went to university on her hurting legs and suffering along
without the meat or fresh vegetables an honest son could have bought through
his labor and…,” Gilly paused. “Why! The
young man was so evil he did not provide the old one little children to succor
her and love her in her old age. She had
neither grandchildren nor the comfort of her son’s wife to make her meals and
keep her fire warm!”
“Aye, the young man was not even out the expense of his
mother’s Christmas gift nor her Christmas meal.” The old one shook his head slowly with
lowered eyes as if contemplating the sadness of it all. “Ahhh, yes,” he continued, turning his eyes
upon the brothers. “The young man had
learned his lessons well. But the point
of the story is that it is the little steps along the way that lead a man down
an empty path. You are two fine laddies
and ye’re planning on attending university and already sinning against the Lord
by withholding the tithes from His very own.
As a Man of God, my most hearty advice to you two fellows is to turn
your cart around from this most dangerous path, tithe to the Lord, and for the
sins of your heart which have just been so plain for anyone to see, you should
give half your coin to the poor.”
Gilly’s tears ran freely down his cheeks. “What a miserable mistake we were about to
make, Cuddy. We were putting first the
university and putting second our Lord in common. No such good could ever come from such an
undertaking!”
Cuddy had been quiet, watching the priest carefully, and
he suddenly asked, “Father, were you educated at university?”
“Why, yes,” said the Father. “One cannot be a minister of the Lord without
education at the university.”
“Then, if you were educated at university and the
university teaches one to multiply the coin rapidly and that is the only value
a man has on this earth, then you yourself must be quite interested in
multiplying the coin.”
The Father’s eyes twitched slightly and he said, “Ahhh,
but I was different than the other university lads. I was serving my Lord all the while I was
obtaining my education. I was never
tainted by the philosophies of men as were the others.”
“Then,” said McGillicuddy, “we will do the same and be
quite safe from the philosophies of men.
And we’re appreciating your advice Father. We’ll be keeping it sound.”
Cuddy reached behind him and handed the priest a
packet of lamb chops and a bag of soda biscuits. “For your hunger, Father,” he said and
clicked his tongue at Belle and Shade, urging them forward. The Father stepped quickly toward their reins
and halted the horses’ forward progress.
“Think of your mother, laddies,” he warned solemnly. “You’ll be forsaking her certain.”
“We have no Mother,” said Cuddy. “She was long ago laid in her grave for our
poverty of circumstances in not being able to buy her the medicines she so
needed in her illness. So I’m supposin’
your story does not much apply to us.
We’ve no parents needin’ honoring anymore. All we have is the Lord to honor.”
“You’ll not Honor him by going to university.”
“We’re not the educated lads and we’ve not the knowledge
you have about the Book, but we’re knowing that a fine way to honor the Lord is
to take care of those less fortunate than ourselves.”
“That is entirely correct, my son,” said the Father. “So, now is a good time to give the money for
taking care of the poor,” and he reached a hand to the side of the tinker’s
cart to accept his share of the boys’ funds.
“Nay,” said Cuddy.
“If we give our university monies to you, it will go to feed your
stomach and little will the poor see it.
If we spend our monies at university, there is, with our Lord’s
blessing, a small chance we’ll become more than we are at this present
time. Then, with diligent effort, work,
and our Lord’s blessing, we may eventually have more funds to properly
distribute for sustaining the poor.”
Cuddy shook
the reins firmly over the tinker horses’ backs.
“It was a fine thing visiting with you, Father; but I’m noticing the
afternoon is plodding along and we’ve business to be about as I’m certain you
have business to be about. Hi-up,
Belle. Hi-up, Shade.” And just that
quick the boys were on their way.
The Father stood in the middle of the road and called
after them, “Ye’ll be cursed of the Lord above and have little share in
Heaven’s Sweet Grace.”
Gilly flinched at the vehement curse and said to Cuddy,
“’Twas not a very kind way to be treating
a Father.”
“Perhaps, but he was endeavoring to impoverish us,
Gilly. We kindly told him we had our
plans and he used guile to sidetrack us and undermine our ability to procure a
better life with the small funds we have.
That is not a kindness to us, Gilly.
We are the poor of the land.
If he has true feelings for the poor, he should be giving to us, not us
to him.”
Gilly thought about this for a while and said, “He wasn’t
even generous enough to share a blessing or a fair word with us, was he?”
“That is the least thing a man can do for another,”
agreed Cuddy. “There is always room for
the good word and for the smile. We
received neither from the man. Whether
he be a representative of God or a fellow without qualifications of any kind,
it is necessary to be decent in all matters.
Kindness goes a long way toward finding lasting prosperity, Gilly.”
Gilly nodded and placed his hand on the bags of coin. “Seems the coin is sticking to us right
grandly this time.”
“It may not stick so close once we get to university if
the old priest was telling the truth about the rapaciousness of that place,”
replied Cuddy. “If he was, the
university will be an old hand at skinning a fellow of all he’s got and we
being the innocent lads could come out worse than better for trying.”
“The heavenly Father has always been a hand for helping
his own, Cuddy. He keeps seven things at
bay, remember? Famine, war, the scourging
tongue…we best be relying that He can keep us in the face of rapaciousness of
all types, even that which may exist in high quarters.” Gilly reached down to their mother’s book and
placed it on his lap. “We’ve always been
kept, Cuddy.”
The brothers parted from their conversation at the
appearance of two quite spirited horses loping in a westerly direction toward
their wagon.
A handsome,
well-dressed fellow hailed them. “Poring
over the books on short break? You are
the diligent fellows! Are you returning
to
“Aye, that we
be,” replied McGillvery.
“Then, are you planning on being there by Monday
morning?”
“Aye, that we are.”
“Excellent!
I’ve a dispatch that needs delivering,” said the young man with a most
winning smile. “If you two fellows would
be so kind as to deliver it, I’ll trade you my room and lodge at Maid’s Club
for the first week in the new school session.”
At the boys’ surprised looks, he encouraged, “It’s a
comely lodging near the university and includes the meals.”
“We’ll deliver it for the goodness of the deed not for
the pay for it,” demurred McGillicuddy.
“No,” reiterated the well-spoken man. “You will be saving me a great deal of
inconvenience and I am obligated to pay for the room reserved whether I occupy
or not. There is parking for your wagon
and stabling for your horses. You will
be quite comfortable.” He smiled again
in a most engaging manner. “Don’t refuse
me. I truly have no other recourse at
present and deeply need the letter delivered.”
“It’s not turning you down we’re at. We’ll faithfully deliver your letter,” said
McGillvery reaching for the large envelope in the young man’s hand. “Tell us where to deliver and we’ll be about
it just that quick.”
“It goes to the University Rector’s Office first
thing Monday morning.” He tipped a
fashionable, felt hat; once more displayed the most charming of smiles, and
said, “I thank you kindly in advance of the deed, Sirs. May your journey be a pleasant one. Tell the Club’s man that McAllistair sent you
in his place. He will make the room
ready.” The young man and his companion
wheeled their horses and set in the opposite direction from
“We’ve an inn for lodging and meals for a week,”
said Gilly wonderingly.
He handed the envelope to Cuddy and the brothers
continued down their road.
“There’s verse saying, ‘God’s canal is full of
water.’ We’ve been a bit short of his
lubricating water, Gilly. Seems somehow
the dew of heavens has opened over us allowing us to get a small foothold on
that which others take so for granted.”
“May He ever increase our store,” earnestly replied
Gilly. “We’ve a full stomach and finest
of provisions for many a day. We’ll not
run short of the fine things in that box before we’re set at table to eat hot,
served meals each day. We’ve a
comfortable bed in our tinker’s wagon, yet now we’ve the option of second bed
at a reasonable rate the poorest of beggars could afford. It seems our blessings are flowing one into
the other. We’ve a small surplus laid by
in hard coin. We no longer have the
necessity of providing for the gray mare so that our supply is not being eaten
by that which is superfluous. It seems,
Brother, our circumstances have changed considerably for the better.”
“I’m seein’ it,” agreed Cuddy happily. “It’s as if the very stones are crying for
our sustenance and every little thing is answering yes. What a glorious feelin’ this is!”
“It’s a glorious thing all right. Just as if the Lord is raining manna down on
His beloved, free for the taking.”
“May it never cease,” earnestly spoke McGillicuddy.
“Aye to that,” agreed McGillvery fervently while
chucking the reins over Belle and Shade and looking superstitiously over his
shoulder. “Truth to tell, Cuddy. I’m feeling a bit nervous about such good
fortune.”
“I know.
We’ve been running hard for so long, it seems sure to end at any minute
with all the goodness taken away from us in one huge snatch.”
“Aye,” replied Gilly making the saint’s good
sign. “What a sad bunch of days we’ve
been living when we’re expecting the bad instead of the good.” And according to
an old habit, he added, “Let’s be hoping the letter we’re delivering is not an
imprudent act for us to be taking.”
“We’ll not look for the bad,” assured Cuddy. “All a man has is the moment and this here
moment is a sweet one. We’d best not be
missing the goodness of it for the fear of an uncertain future. We’ve been on the bottom of life’s wheel for
a great long time and by the nature of a wheel, once it starts rolling the
points on that wheel just naturally have to come to the top eventually.”
“May it stay at the top for as long as it stayed at
the bottom,” prayed Gilly silently.
A rather minor bend in the road provided a wide
angled resting place used by many a traveler on his way to the coast. This evening it was occupied by several
wagons overflowing with small children.
McGillvery surveyed the scene and asked, “Are ye
wishin’ to stop here with all the rest or would ye be wishin’ to continue on a
little further where it would be more peaceful?”
“We’ve had our share of lonely campfires,
Gilly. It would be quite fair to hear
the small ones laughing and playing. We
wouldn’t be disturbing them too much if we parked on the far side there under
the trees nearest the stream. Do ye
suppose there’s enough light to do a small bit of fishin’ now?”
Gilly looked dubiously at the waning day hours and
said, “If not tonight, most surely in the morning.”
“There!” pointed Cuddy. “Did ye see that fish jump?”
“Jumpin’ at bugs,” grumbled Gilly. “If we get too close to that stream, we may
be swattin’ night creatures all night.”
“Then,” reasoned Cuddy, “pull back a little from the
edge of the stream.”
With Gilly’s urging, Belle and Shade made a neat
turn into the campground, negotiated some ancient stumps, and stopped
obediently under smallish trees located not far from the stream. “A campfire ring already in place with a bit
of wood and two sitting stones. This is
a welcome pleasure,” he noted while climbing from the wagon’s seat.
Gilly took care of the horses while Cuddy carefully
pulled from the good lady’s box ample sup for four men. He set stream water to boiling for their tea
and took time to pull their mother’s harp from the wagon. When the horses were well pastured, Gilly
returned to the fire and sat beside his brother.
“Look at all the food,” he marveled while sniffing
appreciatively at the tea ready for pouring.
“Would ye be likin’ a spot of jam on yer soda bread, Cuddy?” he asked in
a most solicitous manner.
“Thank ye kindly,” nodded Cuddy. “Would ye like a cup ’o tea now or would ye
be likin’ some with the bit of apple tart we’ve set aside here?”
“I would like a bit now and a bit later with the
tart, thank you,” said Gilly.
The boys ate, carefully enjoying every bite of the
good cook’s preparations while taking pleasure in the children’s frolics in the
other campsites. “’Tis a passle of children. I’ve rare seen such a bunch for so few
adults, even among the Catholics.”
“Aye, their men must be fierce workers to be
supporting such a lot of the little beggars.”
Cuddy paused in sipping his tea, “The little red-headed lad is quite a
fast runner, isn’t he now? ’E’s putting
them to the ground all one by one.”
“Aye, but look at the little lassie with the brown
curls. She’s a tough one to find. None of them yet have found her. That’s showing a good mind to outwit the
others so.”
“I’m seein’ her fall comin’ soon for the little lad
is comin’ powerfully close to her hidin’ spot.”
“Oops!” laughed Gilly. “There, she’s done! She had better be a fast runner or she’s got
the worst of the game.”
“Well, seems for all the brain skills it still takes
the running skills to do well. The
little lad’s got her sure and now she has to play the worker while he plays the
party.” The boys watched the children
playing their hide and search game until their mothers called and put them all
to rest in their bedrolls. Cuddy reached
for the harp and said, “I’d a mind to play a bit before resting.”
“Not too long,” whispered Gilly. “We’re not wantin’ to keep the little ones
past their bedtimes.”
Cuddy began playing the Don of Longahen, a
faintly melancholy air which drifted sleepily over the night’s warm
breezes. The women took seats beside the
men watching their individual fires die to low embers.
“Play the Shannon’s Lough for them, Cuddy,”
urged Gilly.
Obediently, Cuddy began the tune that has carried
through the ages tugging on heartstrings of the Irish and the non-Irish,
bringing tears and many a strange emotion to the breast of man and woman.
“One more, please, and then we’d best be letting
them sleep.”
Cuddy nodded and began the Kearney’s Ballad,
a slow mournful piece that plays the full range of the heart both the upper
parts and the lower parts as well.
“Thank you,” said Gilly. “We’ve not had music for many a day, it
seems.”
McGillicuddy began packing the harp into its
case. “Having a belly full of good sup
makes a man feel a little like playing and listening to the tunes. My fingers have grown a bit rusty after such
a long absence.”
“That’s in your mind and not in reality. I’m noticing the folks across the way were
enjoying the music as much as you and I.”
Gilly retrieved their bedrolls from the wagon while
Cuddy stowed the harp and retrieved their mother’s Book. Gilly lay the full length on his bedroll
while remarking, “In our dream we heard the Father say all
“It’s a bit unnatural, seems to me,” remarked
Cuddy. “But,” he said while lookin’
apprehensively at the night sky, “not an unnaturalness we can’t easily get used
to and not one we’re wishin’ to change.”
“Be careful of your words,” admonished Gilly. “We’re fair friends of the good and if the
good has bestowed an unnaturalness upon us, we’re acceptin’ both the natural
circumstance and the unnatural circumstance that is given without complaining.”
“Then, to keep from that error, we’ll read from
Mother’s Book. There’s certain no error
there and fillin’ our mouths with those words should well keep us from blame
before the night angels passin’ over our heads.”
To ensure freedom from a spirit’s accusations, Cuddy
immediately began reading from the Psalms and Gilly listened diligently. The stream bubbled energetically on its way
to the ocean and a small hill breeze rustled the tops of the camp’s few trees. Somewhere near the wagon Belle and Shade
could be heard chomping steadily at green grass. An occasional creak from the wagons as
someone turned in their sleep comforted the boys so they felt not so alone in
the big, big world.
Chapter 5
Clean Faces, Fresh Air
McGillvery awoke to the smell of fresh sea air mixed
with fresh trout frying and wood smoke.
He smiled and sighed contentedly.
“You’ve already had luck with the fishing this morning.”
“Aye,” replied McGillicuddy enthusiastically while
carefully turning two very large trout in their biggest iron skillet. “I’d
thought this stream would have long been fished out. But the best of luck greeted me this
morning.”
“Then I best be about packing our wagon while those
finish cooking.”
“Belle and Shade ’ave wandered down to the south of
the stream where the grass is a little more tender.”
“Even they’ve the good fortune then,” grinned
McGillvery while retrieving two lead ropes from the wagon. By the time he had rounded the horses,
McGillicuddy had finished cooking the good trout and packed away their bedrolls
for the continued journey to
McGillvery peered inside the brown paper and
whistled low. “Ye haven’t been having
these since Mum went away, Cuddy.
Look! Filled with cheese and
coated in sugar,” he said while pulling one out and handing it to Cuddy. “Tell yer Mum thank you most proper,” he
called down to the little lass.
“Not me Mum.
We be the orphans goin’ to
Gilly blushed red at his mistake and said, quickly,
“Tell the caring woman thank you most kindly.
Would ye be wantin’ a bite, too, lassie?”
“Nay, the lady baked passles of them for all of us,”
she smiled.
The child ran back to the wagons and Gilly looked at
Cuddy. “Were ye ever guessing the truth
about this campground? They all seemed
so happy and not one of the lot of them with a Mother or a Father.”
“’Tis not so odd if ye’re thinking about it
some. A colt used to stony pasture is
not knowin’ what ’e’s missing if ’e’s never seen deep grass.”
“Makes one proper thankful for his own blessings,”
Gilly remarked. “Wonder how they’re
faring for food,” he wondered as he reached deeply into the sack of
pastries. “Mmmm,” he commented with a
mouthful as large as a mowing horse, “they’re as good as Mum’s and fresh like,
too. The lady must have baked them just
before we pulled into camp. If they’re
fed as well as this, they’ll grow strong and able, that’s a sure thing.”
McGillicuddy looked toward the skyline and squinted
at the morning sun. “We’re not many
kilometers from
“Perhaps.
Belle and Shade are not the young ones anymore but if we’re going as far
as they’re willin’ we may make it past the pale.”
And, the plan was a good one that rolled their wagon
into the edge of
Hailing an elderly woman walking with a small bundle
along the main thoroughfare, Gilly asked, “Is there a place near here for
camping the horses over Sabbath?”
“Aye,” she replied.
“Ye’re coming to All Hallows.
There’s fine trees and pasture there until the weekday. It’s the buildings there above the trees and
there’s a fine church there open to all Protestants. Ye are the God-fearing lads a’coming to
“Aye, that we be,” replied McGillicuddy confidently
while Gilly reined Belle and Shade toward the stance of greenery. He noted a small lane turning to the left
just before reaching the larger buildings beyond the trees. “That looks a peaceful place to be staying
for the evening—a quiet lane where we may be resting until we’re properly
delivering the letter to the university.”
Gilly nodded and turned the horses into the small
lane, pulling the wagon well off the road into the trees. The horses were watered this evening from the
water barrels and tied to trees rather than hobbled.
“Gilly, I’m thinking we need to be setting aside a
little time to bathe and wash proper this evening. We’re coming up in the world and it would be
a fine thing to go to morrow’s church looking our best.”
“We’ve still possession of Father’s shaving mugs and
tools,” replied Gilly helpfully, “and a smallish bottle of scent left from the
men’s purchasing on the yesterday. We’d
be able to go to church with smooth faces and smelling quite proper.”
“Do ye have Mother’s clipping shears? I could be trimming yer hair a bit and making
ye look more a gentleman.”
“I’ll look for them now,” said Gilly, retiring to
the wagon. He soon returned triumphant
with shears, shaving tools, and a small jar of olive oil for nourishing the
skin. “Let’s boil some of the water from
the barrels this evening for a smart tinker’s bath.”
Cuddy nodded and retrieved the large copper tub his
mother had always kept tied to the back of the wagon. “I’ll set the teapot to bubbling and we’ll
use the hot water from that to shave and I’ll trim your hair while we wait for
the large tub to boil.”
Becoming more enthusiastic, Gilly added, “We could
wash the best of the clothes we’ve got and hang them to dry this evening.”
“Gilly, we still have Father’s trunk,” reminded
Cuddy.
“I’ll light the lantern and have a look while ye’re
boiling the water,” grinned Gilly merrily.
“’Tis kind of like a party, isn’t it?” he called over his shoulder.
He soon returned with a red silk blanket packaging a
bulky assortment of items. The boys
spread the blanket on the grass and carefully inspected the treasures within—a
pair of dress boots and newer pair of work boots, two silk ties, a dress shirt
and new work shirt, two pairs of woolen trousers and several finely knitted
stockings of wool as well as two pair of black silk stockings and a small
mirror.
Cuddy held the boots to the lantern light. “These are well-cut and lookin’ the right
size.”
“Aye,” agreed Gilly, rummaging through the rest of
the blanket. “An’ here’s some blacking
that could make them look right sharp.”
“Let’s trim our hair and bathe,” urged Cuddy while
unbuttoning his shirt and shucking his boots.
Gilly carefully clipped reddish brown curls from Cuddy’s square head and
Cuddy in turn clipped reddish brown curls from Gilly’s round head. The teapot’s water was used to soften raggedy
beards. Before taking the first nip from
the beard, Cuddy asked, “How would it be to go the gentlemen with neatly
trimmed moustache and beard rather than smooth shaven?”
“I’ll trim yours first and you can look in the
mirror to see.” Gilly combed Cuddy’s
beard and began carefully snipping and cutting, smoothing and shaping until
quite satisfied with the effect.
“There,” he said, flourishing the mirror in front of Cuddy’s face.
“My,” said Cuddy wonderingly. “I look as well as the gentlemen officers who
served in the army when I was younger.”
“Ye do have a fine cut about you,” admired
Gilly. “It didn’t hurt to go hungry for
so long. It’s given a keener look to
your face and eye.”
“A wolf looks a little keen when ’e’s hungry, too,”
observed Cuddy dryly while taking the cutting shears from Gilly, “but I’m not
noticing it makes him a particularly popular fellow. Are ye wanting the beard the same as mine?”
Gilly nodded and sat perfectly still while Cuddy
began the trimming and snipping. When he
was done, Gilly whistled largely while looking in the mirror. “Cuddy, I am extraordinarily handsome,”
he said while turning his head this way and that. “Why didn’t we take a little time every day
to look so lovely these past several years?
While our mother was alive she saw to our proper bathing and smartness
each day never allowing us to go to the doors without our boots well blacked.”
“I don’t know,” answered Cuddy. “But it makes a great deal of difference for
a fellow to have an amount of coin in his pocket—gives him a bit of confidence
somehow.”
Gilly shook his head in disagreement, “A man should
walk a certain way no matter how much gold he has in his pocket.”
“But,” reasoned Cuddy, “look at the sensibleness of
it. Would we be using the soap or the
shaving cream or the lotion or the blade on the razor or using Father’s clothes
if we knew we had no way to replace them when they are used, tattered, and of
no use anymore? We’d be hoarding them
against a day more important than the everyday circumstances that may come
along. This evening we’re freely and
joyfully using them because we know we’ve sacks of coin to replace them and
we’re in
Gilly held the mirror in front of himself as far as
his arm could reach to observe the extraordinary difference in their
appearances. “Perhaps our situation
would have changed more quickly than they did if we would have put on the bold
face first and then let the circumstances follow.”
“There may be a great truth in that, Gilly. But, we’re putting on the bold face now,
aren’t we? In truth, we’ll still not
look the well-placed gentlemen even with our dressing in the remains of
Father’s finest. There aren’t two sets
of dress boots in the silk blanket,” he reminded his brother.
Gilly laughed outright, “Aye, but there are
two pair of silk stockings and as long as I’m wearing a pair of those silk
stockings under the shined work boots nothing else matters for I’ll feel a rich
man knowin’ for certain there’s none in the church tomorrow who’ll have a pair
of stockings finer than mine—not even the Lords in the balcony seats.”
“I was thinking on havin’ you wear the dress shoes and
silk stockings, Gilly.”
“Nay,” he objected grandly. “I’m content with the work boots and silk
stockings. I’m so handsome I’ll shine
without the shoes. I would be proud to see you lookin’ as you did when you
first went to war. That look can only be
accomplished with the lovely dress boots.”
Cuddy grinned at his brother’s frankness. “No one will think you too handsome if you
don’t bathe and rub yerself with the olive oil.
The water’s well boiled and the washing tub filled. I’ll bathe after you.”
Around midnight the brothers were quite clean and
bright looking. Their everyday clothing
had been washed and hung on bushes and trees to dry. Their father’s boots and shoes had been
shined and their old work boots had been thoroughly washed and sat on the
wagons’ back stoop drying in the night air.
“We’re smellin’ so fresh I’m hating to crawl into
our bedding.”
“Monday first thing we’ll find a laundress to do all
our bedding,” promised Gilly boldly crawling into the noticeably stale smelling
bed sacks. “Do ye think we could find
some paint for our wagon and be painting it to look fine like when our father
was alive?” he asked, quite caught in the whole spirit of renewing former
habits of living.
McGillicuddy looked critically at the wagon. “Even in the fire’s dim glow, it looks a bit
shabby now, doesn’t it? We didn’t even
use the free tallow the young lad gave us to oil the sign so it wouldn’t
squeak. That’s the least we could be
doing. I’m not seeing it’s amiss to perk
everything we’ve got. We’ve a little
surplus laid by.”
Gilly agreed and added, “First thing Monday, you
deliver the letter and I’ll be about making a list of the things we need to put
everything in tippy order. We can be
using the afternoon to purchase our items and be planning for finding the inn
where we’re to stay for the week.”
“We’ve the young man’s lecture to be hearing on the
Monday,” reminded Cuddy. “You’re lining
out a most busy day. I’m not sure of
accomplishing it all.”
“Well, we’ve a better chance if we’re getting some
sleep now,” replied Gilly confidently as he picked up their mother’s Book for
the final day’s reading.
The Book opened.
Gilly read silently and looked at Cuddy glowingly. “It’s the same verse about ‘giving a
listening ear to wisdom and directing our heart to intelligence’ and ‘If we
hunt for it as we would for silver and search for it as we would for buried
treasure, Then we shall understand the fear of Jehovah and find the knowledge
of God because Jehovah gives wisdom and out of his mouth come knowledge and
intelligence.’”
“We’re hearing it the second time for emphasis. I’m remembering a verse in the Book that said
when the good man Abraham understood that which he was to do, he immediately
undertook action and it turned out well for him.”
“And, I’m remembering others who were told three
times before they undertook action. They
were the more cautious type, Cuddy. I’m
not seeing we’re lacking. We are moving
forward as we should without being the slackers nor the disobedient type.”
Cuddy yawned
widely. “Who would’ve ever known we’d
’ave been the university lads? T’would
have been a surprise to Mum.” This
thought was quite lost on his brother who had already begun a gentle snoring in
the night. Cuddy smiled and lay back to
quickly join his brother in peaceful slumber.
In the morning the brothers watered their horses
well, ate sparingly from the box, and walked the lane toward All Hallows where
the elderly woman had directed them for Sabbath church. The last bend in the road opened to a large
area with many, many buildings, some of which were in sad repair. In the middle of those buildings were fine
carriages and a few horses tied in a large yard facing an ancient spired stone
church. The boys walked toward one of
the near carriages and asked, “Are the services to begin quite soon?”
Retrieving an engraved gold watch from a richly
brocaded vest pocket, a young man offered, “In about fifteen minutes. Are you here for the new semester?”
“Aye,” answered McGillvery promptly. “We’re needin’ to deliver a letter to the
Rector’s Offices on the morrow.”
The lad nodded and pointed, “It’s the set of grand
buildings at the end of the fairway. The
new building is the engineering building.
We’re the only one outside of mainland to have an engineering
department. We’re rather proud of
it. There—
“Thank you,” grinned McGillvery and his smile was
readily returned along with a cheerful, goodwill wave of the young man’s hand.
“We’ve just enough time to take a brief stroll round
the buildings before going in to sermon,” appealed McGillicuddy to McGillvery.
“Wasn’t it
the Law building that Sean Connor is to be lecturing in on the Monday morning?”
asked McGillvery as they walked away from the young man’s carriage.
“Nay, the Parliamentary Hall,” replied Cuddy.
After a brisk walk around the main of the
universities’ buildings, the boys slipped into the back seating of the church
and listened to a lecture somewhat different than that which they heard in the
country village churches.
“No children,” whispered Cuddy looking around at the
congregation. “That’s an odd thing.”
“Few women,” whispered Gilly. “The balconies are seating men and them with
black robes like the dear minister himself.”
“Except their robes are well decorated,” noted
Cuddy. “Perhaps they’re Lords visiting
from
“’An such odd looking hats. I would be ’alf ashamed to wear such a thing
in public, makes me feel much at ease with our own clothing. We’re making a much more sensible showing it
seems to me.”
“’Tis rather a boring sermon the young man is
giving, no fire or enthusiasm showing even at the smallest corners,” said Gilly
in an undertone.
“The finer gents seem quite intent on what he’s
saying,” observed Cuddy.
“He speaks in a difficult manner to understand,
Cuddy.”
“Aye, I’m not sure of the meaning of many of his
words,” murmured Cuddy.
“It’s not the Catholic Latin. Perhaps he’s trying to speak in the tongues.”
“Nay. It’s
the English sure enough, but not the English we’re familiar with.”
“I’m not hearing the word sinful or repentant or
hellfire one time in all the speech,” whispered Gilly.
“Perhaps they’re not believing they’re sinful and in
need of repentance,” spoke Cuddy in a low voice.
“Do ye suppose so?
Why that would be above the law, wouldn’t it?”
A man turned round and frowned fiercesomely at the
boys, silencing them with his look alone.
They maintained their opinions to themselves and by
the time the service was over had quite forgotten their impressions of the
morning worship for the excitement they were feeling over the afternoon’s
planned adventures. They retrieved their
horses from camp, rode across the River Liffey, down to the sea, back among the
warehouses, and across all sections of the town.
“It’s a town of great wealth.”
“Of great proportions.”
“And great poverty.”
“As we’ve never seen in the country.”
“There’s homes for the poor.”
“An’ homes for the rich.”
“’Tis a town of great paradoxicalness.”
“’Tis a town of opportunity and disopportunity
besides.”
“Kind of like the whole, wide world rolled into one
little place.”
“With ships from near and far bringing the outside
to the inside.”
“Do ye think there’s a place for us here?” asked
Gilly finally.
“We’ve always been men of the open air and the open
road. It will be a great change,”
admitted Cuddy.
Gilly hallooed a young fellow coming from a nearby
pub. “Are ye knowin’ the directions to
the Maid’s Club?”
“It’s near the university. I’m not knowin’ the exact street.”
Gilly waved his thanks and they set toward All
Hallows criss-crossing several streets near the outskirts of the school.
Finally, Gilly pointed, “There. Look!
On the stone wall—the brass plate is saying, ‘Maid’s Club.’”
The boys rode close to the high, iron-wrought
gates.
“It’s a right grand place,” observed Cuddy.
“The young fellow must be a man of means to live in
such a place,” agreed Gilly.
A high stepping horse with young rider was nearing
the gate. “The gate,” the rider
called. “Open the gate.”
Gilly hurriedly dismounted and drew the gates forth
for the rider to pass. The rider ignored
them and passed along the lane leading to the stables.
“I think he thought we were the gatekeepers,” said
Gilly.
“Well, ’tis no wonder. Did ye see the fine animal ’e was
riding? Belle and Shade have the rough
look about them in comparison. I’m not
sure how we can ride them through these gates on the morrow and not be boldly
chided for their sorry condition.”
“It’s not
just the look of our horses I’m beginning to worry over,” added Gilly while
closing the gates. “’Tis a fine place
behind these gates. We’re more used to
places like the tinker’s wagon than such places as these.”
“In our dream, we played the grand gentlemen among
“Aye, but a dream and the reality are some different
now.”
“We shouldn’t be borrowing worry before it is
necessary to exercise it,” chided Cuddy.
“Our mum told us many the time that what a fine young fellow lacks in
manners of the gentry may be compensated for by consistent exercise of courtesy
and good humor. Do ye remember? She said there was such a thing as a styled
gentleman who was taught the manners of a gentleman and then there was a
natural gentleman who acted in courtesy in all circumstances. She always said the value was in the natural
gentleman, for no set of circumstances could break his natural courtesy while
the styled gentleman could be broken during difficult times.”
“Aye, I’m remembering many a long year ago seeing a
young master of Lord Danby’s throwing a right grand fit and the Lord looking at
Mum and saying she had done well by her laddies and he was wishing at the
moment he could trade Mum his laddie for us.”
“That quite put the smile on Mum’s face.”
“Aye, it did.
But the lesson has always stayed by me that a smile and willing
disposition will make one welcome in the finest of circles.”
Cuddy observed the large stables in the rear. “Belle and Shade will have the accommodations
of the King’s own horses. They’ll not
want to be leavin’ at the end of the week, that’s sure.”
“Just to ensure our reception, though, I’m for
leaving the wagon at its place in the woody lane and trimming Belle and Shade a
bit.”
“Aye, I’m thinking we’d best get some of the
bleaching agent for their tails and manes and rub them down with straw till
they shine. You can trim their manes right
smart like the carriage horses of Earl Donogough and I’ll thin their tails and
braid them tight. We’ll put the new
shoes on them tonight so they’ll not be ashamed to be walking in among the
finer horses.”
“There’s no finer nor smarter in
“But we’re knowin’ brains don’t always shine out
first in dealin’ with people. People see
the outside first and then look a little deeper into the inside if they’ve been
pleased with what the eyes behold. We don’t
want people misjudging such fine stock as this because of their ill-grooming.”
“Let’s get busy then,” urged Cuddy. “The day is moving smartly along.”
After a cold supper, Cuddy pulled the horses’ well
worn shoes, took the rasp to Belle’s hooves nicely rounding and shaping them
while Gilly began thinning Shade’s tail to a carriage horse styling which could
be carefully braided and tied with the thinned hair after a thorough
bleaching. While Gilly rasped Shade’s
hooves Cuddy began trimming Belle’s mane and forelock into a Roman horse
pattern of smart stiffness.
“It’s a warm evening, but not warm enough for me
wishing to get them wet. Would be best
if they were bathed and bleached in the warm morning’s sun.”
“If you could be about delivering the letter to the
Rector in the morning, I could be about their cleaning,” suggested Gilly.
Chapter 6
A Lord’s Traditions
In the morning Cuddy dressed in the finest of all
their clothing for the delivering of McAllistair’s letter. Later he returned and the boys redistributed
the clothing so they made a decent look for listening to Connor’s lecture, but
although searching the Parliamentary Hall diligently, they were unable to
locate the lecture hall where Connor was to deliver his speech. So, they retired to the village to complete
their errands. Soon they were back at
their wagon with more bleach, oil, hoof blacking, new clothing, and paint for
their wagon. The afternoon was spent in
the final dressing of Belle and Shade and then in the dressing of themselves
for their entrance to Maid’s Club.
“The horses look grand, don’t they?” noted Gilly
while mounting Belle.
“As pretty as parade horses.”
“We look the young fellows, too.”
“Then, I’m supposin’ we’re quite ready for our week in
the finer accommodations.”
A short time later, the boys were walking into
Maid’s Club toward the main desk. “We’ve
been invited to McAllistair’s room,” said McGillicuddy.
“Room 236,” said the desk clerk without looking from
his writing. “The room comes with two
meals per day in the club restaurant. If
you both are wishing to eat, then it’s one meal per day. There’s a lift if you do not wish to use the
stairs. Croquet on the back lawn
everyday at 2 PM. The weekly activities
list is at the end of the counter. One
key or two?”
“Two,” replied Cuddy reaching for the small packet
of keys which had been pushed toward him.
The boys stretched their necks a bit to see inside
the club’s dining room as they passed.
It was filled with young men about the age of McAllistair. All seemed quite jovial in spirits. McAllistair’s room, located in the middle
hall of the second floor, overlooked the croquet lawn and was well situated
with a furnished balcony for sitting out in finer weather. The room itself contained a fireplace, oak
study desk, several overstuffed chairs, a small bathing tub, a hand basin, a large
canopy bed, two nightstands, several lamps, several lounge chairs, and a
leather chaise. The large, commodious
closet provoked instant comment.
“Cuddy! Have
you ever seen anything so fine? The
closet contains bureaus full of the brightly colored woolen sweaters from the
northern sheep. An’ look at the pants to
match the colors!” ejaculated Gilly enthusiastically.
“It seems a permanent apartment,” wondered Cuddy
aloud. “The closets and drawers are
quite full of shoes, boots, pants, shirts, and kerchiefs. The lad even has a small chest of eating
utensils and another chest full of sporting equipment. Seems he likes to ride,” he noted while
opening a small door near the far window.
“He’s keeping two saddles, a blanket, and bridles here.”
“And a whole library of books behind these drawers.”
“Is this the young fellow’s home then? A club?
Has he no Father or Mother or friends so that he must stay at a club?”
“I’m not knowin’ exactly, but I would suggest we go
and settle Belle and Shade and then look to our dining, Cuddy.”
The stable manager looked long at Gilly and Cuddy before
finally taking the leads of Belle and Shade.
“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen tinker’s horses in these stables,” he
said. “Easy keepers, these. Don’t need much to stay healthy and gentle
tempered.”
Gilly and Cuddy noted the long line of horses
sticking their well-groomed necks over stable doors in idle curiosity at the
newcomers. “You’ve a great many beauties
here,” remarked Gilly.
The man frowned slightly. “Beautiful, but temperamental and not used to
a solid day’s work—kind of like their owners.
Watch that one. He’ll bite you
right proper,” he warned Cuddy of a horse reaching an extra-long neck over its
stable door.
Cuddy moved hastily to center aisle.
“If they don’t work, what do they do?”
“Mostly stay in their stalls all day and sometimes
take the young masters for a ride or a quick game of balls and sticks. We’ve a young lad who walks them to pasture
every day for their exercise.”
“The names above the stalls are the names of the
horse?”
“No, the names are the names of the owners.”
“McAllistair,” read McGillvery from a near
stall. “We’re staying in McAllistair’s
room for the week.”
“Friends?”
“Nay, the room goes for a favor.”
“Little times he spends in those rooms. You’ll be able to spend the whole year there
by my reckoning. His father pays a
pretty bit of coin to lodge him while he attends university, but he’s achieved
a reputation for more interest in catching the lassies than putting his head to
deep studying. It’s a shame now for the
family has had a good name until now.”
Gilly ignored the small piece of gossip. “Are quite a few of the rooms let to
students?” he asked idly.
The man looked in surprise at the boys. “The Club is for the Lords’ and Barons’
sons. Didn’t you know that?”
“Nay,” blushed Gilly.
“It’s the place for all the best to stay while at
university. Some of the rooms have been
let for three and four generations to the same family. It’s why the horse stalls bear the family
names.”
Gilly and Cuddy were quiet while the man opened a
large stable door on the end. “It’s the
birthing stall and large enough for the two of them. They’ll be quite happy here and I’ll let them
out to pasture every morning. There’s a
stream running at the far side under the trees where they’ll have water during
the day.”
“Thank you,” said Cuddy and reached into his pocket
for a coin.
The man squinted at Cuddy and said, “I’m not
thinking you are a man normally given to tipping for services. The young nobles don’t do it, so why should
you? Besides,” he returned, “the rooms
at the Club come with the stabling.
Always have and always will.
They’ll get,” he nodded at Belle and Shade, “the finest care as if they
were thoroughbred racers. I’m much
preferring them to the others for their gentle disposition. It will be a pleasure to work with an animal
that has genuine affection for man.”
Gilly and Cuddy nodded their thanks and left for the
club with easy hearts. As they were
entering the front door, the lure of the steady laughter and general aura of
camaraderie from the club’s dining room caused them to pause before the door’s
potted palms. A waiter approached and
asked to seat them.
Noting the clothing and deportment of most of the
young men, Cuddy quietly and modestly cleared his throat. “Could we be served in our room this
evening?”
“Certainly.”
The boys ordered two thick beef steaks and potatoes
baked in cheese and sour cream along with a fine pudding of carrots and green
vegetable. At the recommendation of the
waiter they also ordered the house dessert, a tropical fruit pastry lined with
English cheese and brushed with a whipped sugar.
“And the room number?”
“Room 236, McAllistair’s room.”
After seeing the room’s number duly noted on the
order, the boys retired to await their meal, soaking in the warmth from the
fire laid in the fireplace while appreciating the pulled draperies’ insulation
against night air. Lamps had already
been lit; bed covers neatly pulled. The
food came on a wheeled oak cart—a most glorious meal served on silver plate
neatly placed on Irish linen monogrammed white on white with the flourishing
initials—MC. McGillvery and McGillicuddy
noted each detail of the table settings, the napkins, the arrangement of
flowers, the candles, the stemmed glasses awaiting the pouring of the chilled
cider sitting in pewter pitchers set in ice, the small sprigs of parsley
setting alongside beefsteaks so thick they resembled roast beef rather than
steak.
“I’m feeling like a beggar seeing his first real bag
of coin,” said McGillicuddy.
Talking around an appreciatively large mouthful of
steak, McGillvery agreed, “I’m feelin’ the same as ye’re saying and not knowing
the why of it. I’m quite certain we were
living better than this in our grand dream.”
“Perhaps it seems new because we’re forgetting bits
and pieces of our adventure. I remember
the main of the story, but the details are quite leaving.”
“There’s something else different, too. In our present story we’re retiring at night
knowing these luxuries are for a week and then we’re returning to an unpainted
tinker’s wagon in the woods.”
“Aye, that’s some different to knowing there’s a
townhouse filled with the luxuries of a thousand ships.”
“It puts shy in a man when he’s shy of surplus,
Cuddy,” granted Gilly. “Well, then,
since we’re forgetting our story, I’m supposing we need to write it down
permanently while we still have some of our facts at hand. Besides, if our present story ends quite
well, it’s a lesson for our children, our grandchildren, and others to lead
their lives by so they can find a little better result for their efforts than
most after a lifetime of wishin’ and hopin’.”
“We’ll start writing it tonight,” promised
Cuddy. “Every evening we’ll devote a bit
of time to writing down the complete story.”
Cuddy pushed himself away from the table. “I’m a fine eater,” he sighed, “but this meal
has put me under for its luxurious plenty.”
Doing the same, Gilly agreed and placed the domed
silver lids over the leftover food.
“We’ll save it for breakfast since there’s only one meal to be served
each day between the both of us.” He
looked round the room a bit sadly. “How
I’m wishin’ we could live no lower than this for the rest of our lives. It is meant for man to be comfortable and
well-kept, Cuddy.”
McGillicuddy pulled their mother’s Book from his
pack. “I remember once hearing one of
the ministers lecturing that the Father is friendly to man and has every
intention of helping him to live well. Do
you remember the promise to the Wandering people? It was a grand one.” He turned to the front of the book and read a
small paraphrasing of the words, “‘If you obey your God, taking care to live up
to all his commandments…your God will set you high over all the nations on
earth…blessed shall you be when you come in and blessed when you go out…the
blessing will accompany you…in all your undertakings…you shall lend to many
nations and not borrow…He will make you head and never tail…you will constantly
be up and never down….’”
“May that always be our lot in life, Cuddy,” urged
Gilly. “May we always be up and never
down. May we never experience the Dread
again. May the Blessing accompany us
wherever we go.”
“Amen,” agreed Cuddy.
Gilly stood and rummaged through the desk drawer for
a bit for pen and paper. “We’d best be
starting the writing of our story.
Another day and that much more will be forgotten.”
“You begin with the telling of the story and I’ll
begin with the writing,” directed Cuddy.
Gilly sat down beside Cuddy and they began sharing
their recollections of their adventure. By
the midnight hour, nearly three pages of their story had been permanently set to
paper.
The next morning saw the completion of the evening’s
meal for breakfast, Belle and Shade retrieved from the stables, and the two
boys heading for the woods to begin the careful painting and decorating of
their wagon. McGillvery argued with
McGillicuddy about the complimentary colors of the wagon’s sign while he
carefully applied tallow to its hinges.
McGillicuddy argued just as admirably that genteel conservativeness is
always the ideal attitude to have whether in business or in life and McGillvery
retired his argument as he had done every since it had been his duty to paint
the wagon’s sign. He dutifully began
preparing the blue and green colors for the sign’s background and
lettering.
“We’re needin’ to replace a bit of the step on the
back of the wagon. It’s near worn clear
through.”
“Aye, I noticed that some time ago. An’ did ye check the brake? We’re needing to oil the hardwood and smooth
it down near the bottom again.”
At the end of a long, tedious day, the brothers took
special care for personal grooming that involved removal of paint and grime
from hands, face, and hair. They returned
late to Maid’s Club, ordered the same meal as the evening before, retired to
their room, and, after supping in a most luxurious manner, resumed the writing
of their story.
McGillicuddy was endeavoring to find the passages in
their mother’s Book which had led them to begin their adventure, when a key
turned in their room’s hall door.
The door flung open revealing a tall, sophisticated,
elderly man standing in a light summer suit and overcoat. He quietly surveyed the room. The left-over supper was neatly covered with
silver domed lids. Both boys were
sitting at the study desk—Gilly with paper and pen in hand and Cuddy with his
mother’s large Book open on his knees, a finger held down on a verse for which
he had been looking.
“And, who may you be?” the gentleman asked.
“We are McAllistair’s guests for the week,” replied
McGillicuddy respectfully.
“Are you aware of the whereabouts of McAllistair?”
“No,” answered McGillicuddy. “He asked us to deliver a letter to the
Rector this past Monday and told us we were welcome to stay the week in his
room until we got settled properly.”
“Ahhh…the letter,” ruefully stated the man. “The fateful letter. Did you know what you were delivering?”
“No, it was sealed with wax and we took no liberties
with its privacy.”
“The delivery of that letter was the end of my son’s
life.”
Gilly and Cuddy started from their easy postures at
the desk, simultaneously standing, inquiring anxiously, “Is the lad all right?”
“He will never be all right again,” gloomily
predicted the man.
“Did he have an accident?”
“He had an accident of immense proportions.”
“We are so sorry,” offered McGillicuddy. “We can vacate the room this evening if you
wish.”
The man looked around regretfully. “It has been a McAllistair’s for
generations. I spent enough days of my
youth here in these quarters doing just as you two lads are doing this
evening—just as my son should be doing this evening.” The man surveyed the room again. “Well, there is no sense despising what
is. My son has no desire for study and
has chosen a preference for French women and brandy. Can you tell me, dear sirs, how French women
and brandy will produce another McAllistair to sit in these quarters and
wrestle with university exams just as I and all my fathers before me have done?” He looked intently at McGillvery and
McGillicuddy’s faces and said, “I have no answer for it. I expect none from you. Well, then, what shall we do? An empty
room. An honorable tradition broken and
not likely to be mended. Two lads before
me with honorable faces doing that which my son should be doing. Did you say you are not settled for the
semester yet?”
“No, Sir,” said McGillicuddy.
The man narrowed his eyes and looked at Cuddy
carefully. “Military man, eh?”
Cuddy stood straighter and taller. “Aye.”
“The second or the third?”
“The second, Sir.”
“A fine command—the fighting Irish. Never lost a battle.”
The man slapped his leather gloves on his hand as if
deciding something. He finally said
firmly, “Before God, I do not know how to right the wrong my son is
committing. However, the room is rented
for the year and they’ll not refund my money.
It may as well be occupied by those more worthy than my own blood. If you are in need of a place to stay and
study for the year, it is yours. I will
send my man round to collect McAllistair’s personal belongings on the
morrow. And,” as he turned to go, “if
you’ve not paid your semester tuition yet at the university, I’ll leave a note
at the desk for the Rector to credit your account with the balance of McAllistair’s
tuition monies until I can bring him home and talk some sense into his
undisciplined head. An entire year’s of
valuable learning lost,” the man shook his head remorsefully as he carefully
shut the door. Then opening it again, he
stuck his head through and said, “Ally is keeping two thoroughbred racers in
the stable. In return for your room,
they’ll need to be exercised every day.
The stableman is complaining of their tempers. A good military man like yourself,” he said
nodding to McGillicuddy, “shouldn’t have any trouble at all managing them.”
The door shut firmly behind the man and McGillvery
and McGillicuddy were left in stunned silence.
Chapter 7
Mixing Two
Worlds
It was an astonished McGillvery who broke the
stillness. “A way has been made and no
smallish way, neither.”
“From heaven itself, it seems, we’ve been furnished
a means to sit with the best of the land and study.”
“Aiiii,” agreed Gilly. “It’s almost fear-inspiring the way that
happened. Brother,” he said, “I’m not
one to jinx things by the words spoken from our mouths, but my heart is
quivering at the thought of mixing with the young gents we’ve seen in this
place. They are far above our station in
life.”
McGillvery took their mother’s Book from Cuddy’s
lap, opened it, and pointed.
McGillicuddy leaned toward the page and read,
“‘Treasuries of wisdom and knowledge will get you through your times.’” He looked at Gilly and said, “Well, then, we
do not have a choice in this matter if we are to follow our Lord’s direction.”
“It has occurred to me that our wagon is parked in
the woods,” added Gilly. “That is
somehow symbolic that the choice has already been made, if not by us, by a
higher power, isn’t it? When, from our
wee infancy, have we ever been parted from our wagon?”
“Never. We
were born in our wagon.”
“I think one door has closed and another has opened. We must find the courage to step forward into
a new way, different from our father’s and his father’s before him.”
McGillicuddy looked at the Book open on Gilly’s
lap. “We wouldn’t ever know what to do
if it were not for the Book. Truth to
tell, Gilly, this is a more frightening undertaking than facing the Barons and
Lords on a battlefield.”
“Two heads are better than one. It may be that accumulating knowledge is like
any other skill. It can be acquired
through practice and diligent effort.”
“Aye, that’s true,” said McGillicuddy with a little
more brightness. “And how many of the
others were directed at the Father’s own hand to go to university? Most will be there because of tradition and
their father’s direction.”
“If we’re humble and follow our Father’s direction,
we should do passably well I’m thinkin’.”
“Aye,” agreed Cuddy while beginning to lay his new
suit of clothes alongside Gilly’s for a thorough brushing.
In the morning Gilly and Cuddy presented themselves
at the Rector’s door clean and smart in their best suit of clothes. They stood waiting patiently until a smallish
man made his appearance with a key to open the facility. He frowned narrowly through wire-rimmed
spectacles and said, “Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” replied McGillicuddy. “We’re here at the request of Lord
McAllistair and the transfer of tuition monies.”
“I know nothing of such a matter.”
“The Lord spoke with us last evening and said he would
leave a letter for the Rector.”
“It’s much too early today to have the letter in
hand. Come back tomorrow or the next
day.”
“But,” objected McGillicuddy, “classes have begun
and the Lord promised we should have the tuition funds today.”
The man
peered through his spectacles at McGillicuddy.
“Have you applied to the university?
Have you been accepted? Do you
have recommendations? Have you sat for
the examinations?”
The
brothers shook their heads.
“And you
are wishing an education, gentlemen?”
“Aye,
that we be.”
Looking
disdainfully at the brothers, the smallish man said, “Without recommendation,
you’ll not attend this university.”
McGillicuddy
said slowly, “In truth, we do have recommendation from our Lord and ourselves.”
The
little man sniffed disdainfully. “You’ve
passed the examinations?”
“We’ve
passed a great many examinations and trials examining our good character.”
“You
have a sponsor?”
The boys
paused a bit and brightened considerably, “We have the Lord.”
The bit
of a man said dryly, “Wealthy men may go to university. Poor men may not. I can see what you are. You are not wealthy nor are you
well-schooled.”
Carefully,
McGillicuddy said, “We’re knowing a few poor lads who are attending this
university.”
“Not
without a proper sponsor.”
“Then
ye’re telling us that the university education is tied into a tight knot just
for the few’s benefit.”
The
little man lowered his eyes deprecatingly and smiled smugly.
“That is
hardly a Godly way of doing things,” objected Gilly.
“Ahhh,
but it is the nature of things,” spoke the man with just a trace of
sarcasm.
“It’s the
nature of things for eagles to rip and tear their prey, but that gives no
excuse for men to be treating each other in the same fashion,” returned Cuddy
sternly.
“The
university isn’t the place for prey to find safety from the eagles among us,”
retorted the man archly. “If you will
excuse me, I’ve a dear schedule for this day.”
The
brothers watched the little man disappear behind a varnished and cracked,
wooden door.
“A few
obstacles in our way,” noted Gilly.
“They can
be numbered on a few fingers,” confidently spoke Cuddy. “Apply, have
recommendations, be accepted, pass examinations, have a sponsor, and have the
funds.”
“Have the
funds of the wealthy, you mean,” retorted Gilly.
“For one
year, we’ve been given the funds of the wealthy,” reminded Cuddy. “Look, Gilly, we know we’re supposed to
attend the university. We’ve been given enough
indication that only a fool would think otherwise. I’ll go find the wee man again and talk to
him a bit.”
McGillicuddy
found the man shuffling papers at the side of a large mahogany desk. “Excuse me,” he half apologized, “did we
understand correctly that we needed to accomplish these things before entering
the university?” and he properly named the several requirements.
“That is
entirely correct,” agreed the little man.
Meekly,
Cuddy replied, “Then, we’ll do all those things today if you can tell us where
to get them done.”
“They
can’t be done in a day!” objected the man.
“It takes months to process an application to the university and two
applications at once—you will not be attending this semester that I can promise
you.”
The man
turned away and passed through an interior door leaving McGillicuddy standing
alone by the rather formidable leather covered desk.
“What
shall we do?” asked McGillvery who had been observing from the hall. “Perhaps we read the choice we were to make
wrongly.”
“Nay,”
replied McGillicuddy. “Not wrongly. This is a paperwork block. I well recognize it. But there are those who can take care of
paperwork blocks. We just need to get
past all the sergeants to the person who can do that for us and,” he looked
severely at McGillvery, “we need to agree with our Father that
McGillvery
grew a bit red of face and lowered his head, “I know. I was a bit weak with the words.”
“It is important
that we speak aright,” admonished McGillicuddy. “We’re at war. It’s not a war of flesh and blood, but a more
difficult one—one of the spirit. Who
could ever master his own spirit? But,
the mastering of that begins with the tongue and the words we speak. There’s never a soldier who dares allow
himself to speak or to intimate in any way that he will lose the battle or that
he is headed wrong when facing the enemy.
We’re poor soldiers fighting to accumulate a portion of knowledge and
wisdom. It will be a strong battle to
overcome that which we lack.”
At that
moment, a voice behind them hailed, “Hallo!”
The boys
turned and saw the young man from Earl Donogough’s estate. “Sean!
Sean Connor!” they beamed, happy to see him again.
“You
didn’t come to lecture Monday,” he gently reproved while smiling.
“Nay, we
endeavored to come,” both boys protested at once. “We could not find the room where you were
lecturing,” they apologized.
“They moved
the lecture to the auditorium at the last moment,” he furnished. “It happens all the time. A student becomes quite adept, once he is
familiar with the escapades of administrative forces, to side-step such
inconveniences and still finish the business he is at. So,” he said motioning
to the Rector’s Office, “you are going to university after all?”
“We were going to start today, but there seems to be
a problem with admission paperwork, placement exams, and recommendations.”
“That’s not good.”
“Aye.”
“You need to see the Rector.”
“”Tis a little hard to get past his man.”
“Jenkins?
Don’t mind him. The Rector walks
these steps every morning at precisely 6:05.
If you stand here, you’ll be able to talk to him directly. In fact,” he said, turning around, “here he
comes now.”
“Good morning, Connor,” said a thick-set man with large,
ruddy jowls.
“Good morning, Sir,” replied Connor while nudging
McGillicuddy in the ribs to speak.
“Speak,” he whispered. “Now is
the golden time, man.”
“Sir,” said McGillicuddy stepping quickly forward,
“we are here at the advice of Lord McAllistair and the transfer of tuition
funds.”
The Rector was in a hurry. “Yes, yes.
I’ve a great deal to do today, but we shall finish this business
first. McAllistair’s man delivered a
letter to my home this morning early and I am already quite familiar with the
situation from the letter that I believe you,” and he pointed to McGillicuddy,
“delivered on Monday. Come in. We may as well make this the first order of
business for the day.”
Connor smiled widely at the boys as they moved on
into the building behind the Rector.
“See you in class,” he called.
“There now,” said the Rector over his shoulder. “It seems McAllistair is wishing to enroll
you as his protégées in the place of his son for this year—at least that is
what I am gathering from his letter.
Classes began Monday and you are already late for enrollment. Therefore, the most expeditious thing to do,
in order to comply with the Lord’s wishes, is to enroll you in the only two
classes which still have vacancies—Latin and Political Philosophy. Have you completed these required studies
yet? No?
Did you say you have been attending the
The boys mutely nodded without endeavoring to
interrupt the good flow that was coming from the Rector’s mouth. Within minutes, he handed the boys their admission
papers while muttering, “This is such a busy day.” He began another rummaging
through papers on his desk, looked up suddenly and seeing McGillvery and
McGillicuddy still standing in his office, ordered briskly, “Go. You now belong to
McGillvery and McGillicuddy hurriedly left the
office before anyone could think about questions that may reverse their good
fortune.
“I’m wondering how he felt we were students of
“I’m not knowin’, but we’re here now and we need to
show ourselves worthy of the new position we’ve been given by the hand of our
Father.”
“There’s the
They intoned the words with the rest of the young
men. At 9:00 AM, they were sitting in a
lecture hall at the Philosophy building and listening to a lecture on ethics
and its many influences on societal values.
After a full morning of lecture, the boys headed
toward Maid’s Club talking about the classes they had just attended.
“Cuddy,” said Gilly quietly. “I’m not understanding why we are learning to
speak a language that is dead. Why
aren’t we learning a language by which we can talk to people who are alive?”
“I’m not knowing, Gilly,” replied Cuddy with a small
frown. “I was wondering the same about
the discussion on ethics. We’ve the Book
to tell us everything good and true about all things and yet the professor
seemed quite caught on the whole subject from another angle entirely.”
“Aye, he was quite zealous about speaking his ideas,
wasn’t he? Isn’t it amazing that one can
earn a living by teaching languages no one else speaks and by giving daily
lectures about things which every well taught babe in arms is acquainted with
from infancy? This is a very odd place,
Cuddy. It has little to do with the
birthing of a healthy calf or telling the age of a traded horse or determining
the weight of fabric that is to be purchased.
Why is it the Lords would send their children to learn such things?”
Cuddy struggled for an answer, “I’m not
understanding how this relates to getting a cart on the road after a wheel is
broken or selling a wife three bobs of thread instead of two,” and finally said
rather lamely, “Perhaps it is the only thing the Lords’ families have to talk
about when visiting about amongst themselves.”
“Seems rather dull conversation, doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps the Lords and Barons are not truly
interesting people.”
“Then does wealth and position go hand in hand with
boring and dull?”
Cuddy laughed and then soberly replied, “Well,
Brother, if that is what it will take, we’d best become the most dull and most
boring of them all.”
“Is this
the wisdom and knowledge our Father is wishing us to obtain?”
asked Gilly doubtfully.
“Perhaps it is somehow related to becoming a
gentleman, Gilly,” Cuddy offered.
“I can see
the gentleman ought to be a man of fine manners able to
play the musical instrument,
read the books in a foreign language, converse with the priest in his own
Latin; and yet, how is that to make the
money? One could be having the finest of
manners and starving to death at the same time, Brother. Nay, I’m thinking this university business is
quite backward in their approach to raising a man from poverty.”
“But, in truth,” said Cuddy thoughtfully, “they aren’t
raising the young men who attend these halls from poverty, are they? I mean, the young men from Maid’s Club are
hardly poor.”
“Then what are we doing here, Cuddy?” asked Gilly in
astonishment. “We’re needin’ to raise
ourselves from poverty conditions.
Hobnobbing with the rich isn’t going to get us there. They are not going to share what they have
with fellows like us. When they want to
play games, we’ll not be able to play for the expense of it. We’ll be quite alone and left out of all
things and will have spent our valuable time learning such things as the dead
languages.”
Cuddy was as puzzled as Gilly. It seemed they were being led in a most
circuitous route toward prosperity.
Gilly continued, “Even the muscled men in the farm
fields will be better off at the end of the year than we. They will have their wages. What will we have in a year? We will have grown accustomed to living in
the fine quarters and riding the fine horses and sitting and listening to
lectures as if we were the privileged of the land and then we’ll be thrown out
in the cold with no earnings in our pockets and the wagon a year rotting in the
woods. We’ll have spent the little coin
we earned from the sale of all our goods and have nothing with which to
replenish our cart. The future looks
bleak, Cuddy.”
“There’s likely much we’re not knowin’, Gilly,”
suggested Cuddy. “Perhaps in learning
the Latin there’s a value that transmutes itself into the gold at a later
time.”
“Dead languages turning into gold?” snorted Gilly in
disgust. “Have ye lost yer mind?”
“Well, now, we’ve not seen the house the professor
of Latin language is living in. What
would you say if you found he lived in a grand house behind a great wall? Then, I’ll warrant ye’d be thinking learning
the language is of value.”
“Then, let’s go see right now. We’ll ask where he lives and make our
decision there,” asserted Gilly.
Feeling a bit unsettled about the whole of the
conversation, but realizing this question must be most properly addressed,
Cuddy turned to see if any students were walking the same way as they. He recognized a young man he had seen in
church several days before, hailed him, and asked, “Could ye be tellin’ us
where the kind professor of Latin is livin’?”
“Nearly all the professors live at the Rectory House
on the other side of campus.”
“Will it be difficult to find now?”
“No, it is not complicated. See the stand of trees there?” The young man had turned and pointed behind
himself. “The three large chimneys…that
building belongs to the professors.”
“It’s seemin’ a grand building,” observed Cuddy.
“Well, the individual rooms are small and the
professors do not have a great deal of living space. Many of them share rooms with other
professors. But,” the young lad
shrugged, “all and all, for a professor, it’s not too bad going. Many of the students certainly have worse.”
The lad passed on and Gilly raised his eyebrows
significantly in McGillicuddy’s direction and said pointedly, “We’d best have a
walkover and see how they actually live.”
The Rectory House was a grand building with many
tall, leaded windows framed in hard-fired brick. McGillvery and McGillicuddy walked the front
steps through oak double-doors into a neat parlor furnished with several desks
and chairs, a small fireplace, potted plants, and a worn oriental rug over
hardwood floors.
An elderly gentlemen with broom in hand came from
the backrooms and asked, “Are you looking for someone in particular?”
“Yes, we’re looking for the Latin professor.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
“Everyone makes appointments to see the professors,”
he said. “They are quite busy and do not
allow otherwise.”
“Well, now,” said McGillicuddy hastily, “actually we
have but a small question to ask. Would
it be possible to write it on a bit of paper and slip it under his door without
the bothering of him?”
“If you were one of the younger lads asking, I would
say no without hesitation. But I can see
you’re of age and sense.” He nodded and pointed, “He occupies the tenth door on
the right in the north wing. He usually
takes lunch this time of day and is most likely out.”
The boys nodded their heads in thanks and proceeded
to the right north wing. Most of the
doors stood closed, but a few were open sometimes revealing men of varying ages
studying at desks underneath light from the lead glass windows. Cuddy and Gilly carefully noted the sparse furnishings
in most of the quarters. The tenth door
was closed. Cuddy wrote a brief note on
a piece of paper concerning the best books to supplement the Latin course and
the two boys left the way they came.
“Comfortable,” remarked Cuddy. “Much more so than military quarters.”
“”Tis not a tent,” agreed Gilly. “But also not a great deal larger than our
wagon and remember the young lad said some of the rooms were shared.”
“It’s a great riddle to me, Brother,” said
Cuddy. “Perhaps they’re like the monks
at the old monasteries. Perhaps they’ve
a vow of poverty.”
“Or perhaps the prospering is not their primary
concern, Cuddy. Perhaps they have found
something of far more interest than the prospering.”
“Seems nothing of much worthwhile can be
accomplished without a prospering, Gilly.”
“Perhaps they donate all their worldly resources to
this fine institution.”
“Perhaps.
Well, we’ve only been here a day and not knowing the ways of university,
it would behoove us to learn more of the customs of this place before thinking
we’ve already found reason for leaving it. And besides,” he continued, “the
thought just came to me that the scripture did not say to be seeking the
prospering. It said to be seeking the
wisdom and the knowledge.”
“Aye,” returned Gilly with a startled look in his
eyes. “That’s the word of it and here we
are counting the reward before we’ve followed the directions.”
“Looking at the way the professors are living makes
one think small about the reward,” noted Cuddy directedly.
The boys began walking toward Maid’s Club discussing
the events of the morning.
“The sun hasn’t even reached midday and we’re done
with our work,” observed Cuddy.
“We’ve need to purchase our supplies and then we’ve
the entire day free. A student’s life is
a very good life,” agreed Gilly. “I’m
thinkin’ two tinkers could become quite happily fat on it.”
“I’m not noticing any of the young men too awfully
fat, Gilly.”
“Perhaps
because they’ve plenty since they were wee folk and have no real appreciation
for what they could ’ave been lacking.”
Cuddy nodded and slackened his pace a bit to refasten
a shoe. “I saw a shop along the river on
Sunday that sold books and paper. Would
ye like to go there now and acquire the supplies of which we’ve a need?”
“Aye,” returned Gilly. “I’m most interested in seeing the steel pens
such as the young men were using around us.
Did ye bring the coin for purchasing?”
“Aye, that I did,” he grinned.
The boys returned to Maid’s Club with bags filled to
brim with school supplies. Because they
had not taken notes during either of the morning’s classes, they had nothing to
review and therefore decided to go to the dining room for their meal. They stood just inside the luxuriously
decorated room taking a closer look at its interior.
“‘Tis a bit different than the inns we’ve sat at.”
“None of the young fellows seem very hungry. Look at the way they talk instead of eating.”
“And when they do eat, they take sparing, small
bites of food.”
“T’would take all the evening to eat in such a
manner as that.”
“Not all evening with the small portions they’ve
been served,” whispered Gilly.
“Nothing like we were furnished the evening before,”
agreed Cuddy.
“We’ve no need of embarrassing ourselves,” commented
Gilly quietly. “Seems their first order
of business is not eating. Perhaps our original idea was the best and we should
spend the evenings eating in the quiet privacy of our own rooms.”
“We’ve got to be the duckling sometime and jump into
the pond. We’re to be here for a year,” disagreed
Cuddy. “It would be best to become
familiar with the other young fellows.
There,” he pointed, “see the table behind the two palms? It is rather hidden and we could sit there
and be a part of the group without showing our table manners to our
disadvantage.”
Gilly looked and sure enough there was a small table
sitting against the wall with a ceiling pillar to one side and two palm trees
placed in front so it conveniently lent itself to privacy of a sort. He nodded and said, “That’s a fine
place. Let’s be about asking the waiter
if we may occupy that seat.”
The boys asked and the waiter said, “That seat is
reserved for McAllistair.”
“Well, then, that’s fine. We’re the lads taking young McAllistair’s
place at the university this year so I’m supposin’ he’ll not mind us sitting at
his table while he’s gone.”
The boys found the table allowed seclusion and
access to other conversations around them.
Conversation at those tables was rapid-fire and quite surprising to
Gilly and Cuddy.
“Politics of
“Traveling to
“Business in
“And, the man spoke just so….
“The barrister, the judge, the mayor, the Baron,
Lord, King, Princess….
McGillvery and McGillicuddy bent their heads to their
meals and listened raptly.
After a leisurely dinner they quietly retired to
their room. “I didn’t hear them once
speak in the dead language and I didn’t hear them discussing the ethical
concerns of the professor,” observed Gilly while changing his stockings, shoes,
and dress pants.
“Aye, but did ye ever hear such a wide variety of
conversation?”
“It was like hearing the newspaper before its been
written, printed, sold, and read.”
“They’re the knowledgeable young chaps, aren’t
they?” noted Cuddy while loosening the stay around his shirt’s collar.
“Aye, that they be and not too boring either.”
“I’m thinking they would be little interested in the
finer points of waxing a wagon’s wheel.”
“Is this what the university does then?”
“I’m not knowing.”
“Me neither, but I am more firmly desiring we stay
in this place. It would be a fine thing
to be able to sit at table and talk in such a manner as the young men have this
afternoon.”
“And, me,” said Cuddy, “for me, I agree.”
The boys spent the rest of the evening writing their
memories of the Land of the Gone Forever, reading their mother’s book, and
settling in for an early retirement.
They were surprised to find the Latin professor
announcing an exam first thing in the morning.
“Write the conjugations for the verbs ‘to have,’ ‘to
love,’ ‘to be,’ and ‘to go.’”
The class pulled pens and paper from school sacks
and began diligent, steady writing.
“Cuddy,” whispered Gilly. “Are ye able to do that?”
The professor looked sternly in their
direction. “Conferencing during exam is
punishable by automatic failure.”
Gilly blushed redly, bent his head to paper, and
pretended to conjugate verbs. When the
examinations were called forward, both boys submitted blank pieces of paper
upon which their names were written—not a single verb had been conjugated. They waited until the classroom emptied and
then approached the professor.
“Sir, we were missing the first several days of
class and did not have opportunity to study for the questions you asked for
this examination. We need to procure the
missed information to study so that we will not fail the next examination.”
The professor looked at them coolly and said,
without tone or inflection in his voice, “It is your responsibility to
conference with the other students for missed notes and scheduling
information.”
“Ahhh,” returned Gilly. “Then, could you be giving us some of the
names of our classmates and where they might be living so we can contact them
today for our missed notes?”
“I do not keep records of my student’s whereabouts,”
he returned shortly, “and would never distribute such information to unknown
parties for the mere asking.” With that
statement, he gathered the exams, stuffed them into a leather case, and briskly
walked to the door leaving McGillvery and McGillicuddy looking quite
astonished.
“That’s a cold wind blowing,” observed Cuddy.
“Aye, ’e’s not the helpful lad, is he?”
“Well, to be fair to the professor we do not know
what his stresses are, do we? Being as
unfamiliar as we are with this life, we’d best suppose he’s good reason for not
helping us with the notes.”
“He’s living in a powerfully small room, not as
large and comfortable as ours. Perhaps
the smallness of his room is causing him to be a mite cranky.”
“That could be,” agreed McGillicuddy and then he
turned to McGillvery with a question in his eyes. “Have ye ever heard of an Alma Mater before,
Gilly?”
“Nay, not in any conversation or readings either.”
“Last
evening, when I was going to fetch the extra towels, I heard one of the boys
talking about his Alma Mater. I told him
we were studying the Latin and asked him what the two words meant. He told me that the young fellows—the
students—looked at the university as a second Mother.”
Gilly thought on this piece of information for a
moment and remarked, “We had a most wonderful Mother.”
“Aye, I immediately remembered how pleasing our
mother was with her soft hand and her constant belief in our ability to do
well, her encouraging smile and willingness to serve without recompense and I
felt happy at the young man’s words because I thought that we were to have a
second Mother to help us on the way to learning and wisdom.”
McGillvery scratched his head a bit and wondered,
“If the university were an Alma Mater, then are the professors an extension of
the Mother?”
“I’m not sure, Gilly,” replied Cuddy slowly. “Perhaps they’re more like part of the
Mother’s family—our uncles and aunts—lending us good examples of fidelity and
loyal, God-fearing action.”
“Then, the children of this great Mother are the
students growing up in understanding and comprehension of goodness and truth.”
“Aye, that’s what I was thinking.”
With a slight look of worry on his face, Gilly
asked, “If we asked our mother’s brother for the notes from the last week’s
lecture, do you think he would have delivered the same?”
“We weren’t lucky enough to spend much time with our
uncle,” noted Cuddy. “But the little I
remember of him is that he was a most helpful old gentleman.”
“Something like Mother, I remember,” acknowledged
McGillvery.
“Aye, a great deal of Mother’s kindness rested on
him.” Cuddy paused and looked from the
corner of his eye at his brother and said, “I’m well knowin’ where ye’re going
with this. But you have to remember not
all Mothers are graced with the good heart as ours was and it makes perfect
common sense to me that some Mothers can be havin’ the unkind heart. After all, we’ve read the stories of Mothers
forgetting their own babes by the side of the river’s edge when they’d too many
at home and we’ve read ancient stories about Mothers who killed all their
children so they could be the queen.
’Tis hard to imagine throwing over the very meaning of Motherhood for
power and glory; but because it has happened in the past, it could most certainly
happen again. It could be our university
mother is a bit more rapacious and interested in herself than in helping along
her children.”
“Seems that kind of Mother is a good one to run away
from,” decidedly spoke Gilly.
“Aye,” agreed Cuddy thoughtfully before looking and
realizing they had just arrived at their Philosophy of Religion class. This class proceeded uneventfully and
McGillvery and McGillicuddy took diligent and prodigious notes.
After class, they approached a small, young man
adorned with very large spectacles and asked if they could borrow his notes
from the first three days of class.
“No,” he said shortly and turned away.
Nervously, McGillvery and McGillicuddy headed for
the door. “It does not do particularly
well to miss classes,” observed McGillicuddy.
“Or to fail to take the notes,” agreed Gilly. “What are the poor fellows to do who become
ill during their school sessions? If
they’ve no means to procure their notes, then they must surely fail their examinations. Truth to tell, I’m not certain about the
intent of this institution. Does not the
Book say that if one asks and it is in one’s power to supply that which is
asked, it must be given freely and with a good heart?”
“Aye, that it does and in plain, good language,”
remembered McGillicuddy.
“We’d best hurry and find those notes from someone
and quite quickly, too,” urged McGillvery.
“Perhaps someone at Maid’s Club may be sitting in
these classes and we could borrow their papers on the name of our benefactor.”
“That’s a good plan.
A smile and good intentions certainly seem to pull no weight here.”
McGillvery and McGillicuddy headed directly to
Maid’s Club to find someone’s notes from which they could study the past week’s
lessons. They walked to the desk clerk
and asked him if he knew anyone who might be taking Latin this semester. The clerk shrugged and pointed to the dining
room.
“Ask Schaeffer at the head table. He usually has a finger on everything going
on around here.”
There was only one table occupied for the luncheon
meal. McGillvery walked to it and asked
in a most polite manner, “I’m looking for Schaeffer. Someone told me he may be able to tell me who
is studying Latin this semester.”
One of the young men looked at McGillvery and
laughed. “Beginning Latin?”
McGillvery nodded.
“All upper classmen at this table,” the young man
replied. “You’ll have to find someone
else to help you.”
As McGillvery turned away, the young man called, “A
bit green, aren’t you? For a price,
there’s always help.”
McGillvery returned to the table, surprised and at
the same time hopeful.
“You’re the boys staying in McAllistair’s place,
aren’t you? You are dressed as if you
have been gone to the
“No,” replied McGillvery, “I didn’t know. But we thank you for the information about
As the boys turned to go, the young fellow called,
“Wait. You didn’t leave halfpenny.”
“Halfpenny?”
The young man’s hand was held out.
“Oh, halfpenny.
Sure,” and McGillvery reached into his pocket and placed a single coin
in the young man’s hand.
The young man looked at the coin, then round at his
comrades, and laughed, “Well, they’re probably wealthier than anyone else at
the table and you know what that means—pitiful halfpenny.”
The brothers turned to leave in front of waves of
laughter rising from the table behind them.
As they left the dining area, Gilly said, “Are we
looking rough, Cuddy? We’ve the best
clothes we’ve ever worn in our lives—freshly new from the Dublin Merchandising
store. Our shoes are polished and yet
the young fellow at table said we looked like fellows back from an expedition
and we need to tidy a bit.”
Cuddy looked down at his pants and shirt. “I’m not sure of the meaning behind the young
man’s words. We’ve no gravy stains on
our shirts. The pants are a bit rumpled,
but that’s a necessity from having sat at the desks all the day.”
“I’m not knowing either, Cuddy. Perhaps the young man is a bit cranky and
mite too particular.”
“Did ye notice anything peculiarly different about
him as compared to us?”
“No, I was fastened on his face and his manner. I noticed not his clothes or his tidiness.”
“Perhaps ’e’s got a bit of the girl in him
then. It was Mother who always noticed
our upkeep, not Father.”
“Do ye suppose that could be the truth? The desk clerk did say he always had a finger
on everything. Gossip is more of a
woman’s occupation than a man’s.”
“An’ it’s midday and ’e’s sitting around a table
like a woman instead of being out and about doing things necessary.”
“To be fair to him there, we’re all students
together now and I’m supposin’ we’re sitting more about a table than usual
nowadays, too.”
“Ye don’t suppose the university makes a feminizing
influence now do ye?” asked Cuddy concernedly.
“Whooo—ee,” whistled Gilly softly. “Let’s hope not. Men can’t go to being like women or the whole
world would be lost. Mum was a wonderful
creature, but not as resourceful as we lads.”
“She’d have been a little lost if she’d broken a
wheel on the road,” admitted Cuddy. “It
was the lads who kept everything fixed and repaired for her. She was a mite helpful on the meals, sewing,
and reading of the Book, though.”
“Aye, that she was.
Well, perhaps we’ve need to more carefully observe these lads to
understand what the differences are even if we choose not to copy all that they
do.”
“T’would not hurt.
We’ve always a good understanding of being Catholic in Catholic land and
Protestant in Protestant land. It’s the
prudent course leading to a longer life.”
“And, its the course leading to the enrichment of
personal circumstances. ’Tis a little
difficult to sell while arguing the points of religion. So, I’m supposin’ we’re trying to sell
ourselves at Maid’s Club and it’s a foolishness for us to be arguing that we’re
not ill-kept if the young lads accuse us of being such.”
“Perhaps we could ask the desk clerk about such
matters. He undoubtedly knows a great
deal about the most proper way to attire oneself.”
Accordingly the boys, who had been walking toward
the stairs to find
“We’re in difficult straits,” began Cuddy carefully
to the desk clerk. “As you can see,
we’re not as well-groomed as we should be and new to
The desk clerk without raising eyes said, “Hair,
face, hands and feet—Madam LeRoux.
Clothing—Charbon, the tailor.
Feet are shod at O’Malleys. Madam
LeRoux and Charbon make room visits if that is more to your convenience.”
The boys thanked him for the quick and relevant
information. As they walked away, Gilly
said to Cuddy, “First things first. We
need to find Mister Crowley for those examinations and notes for the class we
are taking.”
“The examinations?” asked McGillicuddy.
“Sure. Didn’t
you hear the words of Schaeffer? He said
“No wonder all the young fellows left the room so
quickly this morning,” observed McGillicuddy.
“If they had the examination in advance, it was no challenge for them to
complete it. We’re smartly outclassed,
McGillvery. We need to speak with this
“
They nodded sheepishly and walked toward the stairs.
“I’m not sure what we should do now,” said
McGillvery.
“Well, it’s early in the day. We could tend to the tidying that seems so
important to Schaeffer.”
“And we are responsible for exercising the
thoroughbreds,” reminded McGillvery to his brother. “Perhaps we should endeavor doing our duty
first before taking care of the niceties.”
McGillicuddy rolled his eyes, remembering the
temperamental stable charges, and said, “I’m thinking it may be wiser to find
Charbon, LeRoux, and O’Malley and take care of the rough edges on our own
beings before we begin smoothing the rough edges on those two creatures.”
Gilly nodded a wee bit glumly. “We’ll earn our keep minding that
obligation. But, we’ve also need to be
lookin’ in on Belle and Shade I’m thinking.”
The boys returned to their room, retrieved the two
riding saddles, and proceeded to the stables.
They slowly walked toward the two boxes with the McAllistair name
engraved in slightly tarnished brass above the doors.
“Well, now,” said Cuddy as he quickly sidestepped
out of the way of the first box’s door.
“If it isn’t the one with the long neck for nipping at a fellow when ’e
passes.”
Gilly looked into the second horse’s box and stepped
back quickly as two hooves smacked the side of the stall. “’E’s rollin’ his eyes somethin’ fierce,” he
said.
Cuddy walked warily around the door of the nipping
gelding and walked toward the stallion who promptly showed awareness of human
presence by kicking the sides of the stall three times in succession. “There’s truly nothing free in this world,
Gilly, is there?” pined Cuddy. “We’ll be
putting our lives on the line every day of this year while trying to exercise
these temperamental ponies.”
“Perhaps we could just open their gate and let them
run out to pasture from their stalls,” suggested Gilly.
“An’ how would we be gatherin’ them again from
pasture?” inquired Cuddy. He squatted
some distance from the biting gelding and watched it for awhile. “We’re thinkin’ we could be ridin’ these
animals. But that’s a fallacious
idea. What if they were led close to a
more somber and intelligent disposition like Belle and Shade? If they spend enough time in sensible
company, they might attend to better manners over a period of time and then, we
may find we could begin riding them for their exercise.”
“That’s a goodly idea,” said Gilly. “I’ll get the lead ropes, if ye’ll begin
saddling Belle and Shade.”
Cuddy laughed and held the light riding saddles in
mid-air. “They won’t know what to do
with these airy contraptions on their backs.”
Gilly grinned, “T’will be some different than
pulling the cart.”
Soon the boys were mounted on Belle and Shade and
reaching over the stall doors of McAllistair’s thoroughbreds to clip the lead
ropes onto their halters. They opened
the doors and both horses followed Belle and Shade in a most docile manner to
pasture. After a brisk workout, they
returned to stable and found the stableman leaning against the outer wall,
grinning largely.
“Are ye to be responsible for the two McAllistair
devils? They need a thorough riding,
lads, every day, or they get quite mean.”
Gilly looked over his shoulder apprehensively at his
led charge. “Are ye saying they could become
worse than they are? I’m not sure we
could get a saddle on them for their kicking and biting now.”
The stableman guffawed loudly. “I’ll show you a trick to makin’ them act a
bit better. Here, hand me the
ropes.”
The stableman reached inside his coat pocket and
took out two sugar lumps. The horses
eagerly leaned their heads forward to accept the proffered treats and followed
easily for the placing into their respective stalls.
“You’ve got to understand the thoroughbreds. They’ll not do it for nothing. They’re always looking for the gain of it and
if they calculate the gain is not worth the effort, you’ll not see them
cooperating much and don’t think its always as easy as a lump of sugar. Sometimes it’ll take a great deal more reward
than sugar for them to perform. The
difference between blood and non-blood, you see, is that the thorough-blood
uses its head and the non-blood uses its heart.
Kind of like men,” he tossed over his shoulder, “if you know what I
mean.”
As Cuddy put away the horses, Gilly said quietly, “A
horse should know its place. Its purpose
is to serve men in a cooperative manner.
Those two need to know what their purpose in life is. Our Belle and Shade always knew and served us
well.”
“Aye, Belle and Shade have great, large hearts.”
As if stuck on the subject, Gilly repeated, “The
McAllistair horses are quite worthless if they do not serve.”
“Willingness goes a long way toward usefulness,”
added Cuddy.
“’Tis what our mother taught us. Who’s ever heard of an animal not willing to
be useful?”
“’Tis sure certain they end on the dining room table
if they’ve no heart and willingness and yet, ’tis important to use the head,
too.”
“I’m
wondering what one has when one has an animal that uses its head and its
heart?”
“You have,” said Cuddy firmly, “a winner—kind of
like men, if you know what I mean.”
Gilly laughed a soberish sound while watching Cuddy
give Belle and Shade an extra measure of oats in their trough. “Well, what are we to do with the long-headed
animals?”
“All we had to do was exercise them. The Lord did not tell us we had to ride
them. I’m thinking Belle and Shade are
the best means of exercising them. That
went quite well this afternoon.”
“Aye, but the stableman said if they were not
ridden, they would not be fit by spring for any use. Our moral duty is to have them in the same
condition they’re in now by spring, or better.”
“Then perhaps this is the best time to
exercise—after we wore them down a little.
I saw a small garden at the back of the inn. I’m wondering if they’d be as fond of carrots
as they are of sugar?”
“It’s worth a try,” replied McGillivery as he
hoisted the two saddles from the pegs in Belle and Shade’s stall to carry to
the McAllistair stalls.
After their workout with Belle and Shade, the gelding
and stallion were quite adaptable to bridling and saddling. They moved toward the mounting block in a
most docile manner with jaws moving rhythmically around baby carrots. Temporarily sidetracked by the treats they
were offered, the unpredictable horses allowed both boys to mount and to begin
a small journey into the woods which soon became an enjoyable, long ride round
the university grounds and back to Maid’s Club.
After caring for the horses, the boys immediately
headed for
“Mr. Crowley?” asked McGillvery.
The young man turned and nodded.
“We’re looking for notes and examinations for Latin
class.”
“Are you residents?” the young man countered. “I don’t recall seeing you before.”
“We’re next door to you in McAllistair’s room.”
“Well, exams aren’t for those who are bunking in,”
he said.
“Oh, we’re not bunking in. We’re guests of McAllistair’s and Lord
McAllistair for the year. Schaeffer told
us to come see you.”
“Oh,” he replied.
“Well, I’m pretty busy right now.”
Cuddy held out two bottles of green beer.
“But, in the circumstances, I suppose it would be
all right. Come along,” and he led them
down the hall, downstairs into a large basement furnace room. Three of the walls were lined with neatly
labeled boxes stacked to the ceiling.
“It’s a time-honored tradition,” he said spreading
his arms wide. “The notes and exams
cover all classes taught at university.
Your fee for using these materials is quite simple. All your notes and exams must be filed here
for future Maid’s Club residents to use.
You are responsible for labeling them with the semester, date, the
class, and the professor. Let’s see, is
it Beginning Latin you are looking for?”
McGillvery nodded.
“Then, this semester that would be O’Brien. Good teacher, but difficult to get along with
on the best of days. These boxes are for
this semester’s Latin and it looks as if notes have already been filed. Let’s see.
Yes, notes for the entire week.
If you want to know what O’Brien’s exams are like, these ten boxes
contain notes and examinations for the last ten years. Latin is pretty straightforward really, but
you’ve drawn a teacher who will make it difficult to pass out with a decent
mark to your record and of course Maid’s Club prides itself on good records and
decent marks.”
“Aye,” agreed Gilly and Cuddy meekly. “We’re sure wantin’ to meet the standards.”
Cuddy spoke quickly, drawing from his military
travels. “
“Ah,” returned
Cuddy did not reply.
The evening was spent profitably studying Latin
verbs, reviewing notes taken during the day, writing down memories of their
adventure, and reading in their Mother’s Book.
“We could always hope the Latin professor will give
another exam tomorrow. We’ve studied the
verbs enough to at least write something on the paper,” said McGillvery as he
was turning back covers on the bed.
“Or we could hope he never again gives an exam and
we all receive the best marks and pass on to greater things.”
Gilly laughed grandly, “Are ye wishin’ for the icing
on the cake and the cake, too?”
“Wishin’ for it all has been the story of my life,
Brother,” replied Cuddy.
Chapter 8
Humility
Late the next afternoon after exercising the
McAllistair horses, the boys retired to their small table hidden behind the
palms and tuned their ears toward the nearby table.
“I’m wondering where McAllistair picked them
up? ‘Are ye going to class, then?’ ‘What
would be yer ladyship wishin?’”
The room filled with laughter. “My maid speaks better than that!”
“My father wouldn’t allow a stablemen on the place
who couldn’t speak better than that no matter his qualifications!”
Again the room erupted with laughter.
“Do you see the way they walk? Like they’ve got the whole world on their
shoulders!”
“And, those big eyes—timid and afraid of
everything!”
“Well, they’ll be good entertainment for this
semester.”
“Wonder where they’ll go for holiday?”
“From the looks of them, they’ll be glad enough to
stay on here.”
“The clerk said they were asking about grooming
yesterday.”
“It would take a month soaking in the finest oils to
improve that lot.”
“I’m wondering that Charbon would even see them.”
“Oh, you know how it is. The poor folk get very good at name
dropping. It’s how they got the
examinations from
Several voices jeered in a heckling manner. “
“Let up. I
was studying for the Physics’ examination when they showed up. You know I get involved in the studies. I really didn’t even see them. I just heard the name Schaeffer and I think
instead of blaming me, Schaeffer shouldn’t be spreading his name around so
liberally.”
“Aye, and the name dropping worked on Schaeffer,
too. Schaeffer sent them to you based upon the fact they were guests of Lord
McAllistair.”
“Why don’t you become a bit better acquainted with
them? It would be good sport.”
“I’ll see if they play polo or golf.”
“Those workhorses?
Hah!” laughed one of the boys.
“How could they ever place among thoroughbreds? They’ve not been trained for it. Would be such a farce it would quickly lose
the sport of it!”
McGillicuddy blushed redly to the roots of his
hair. The waiter came to their table and
said, “May I serve you?”
“We would like to eat in our rooms, please,” replied
McGillicuddy quietly so as not to attract notice from the table beyond. “The roast and potatoes will be fine, a plate
for two.”
The boys carefully pushed their chairs back from the
table and retired to their room.
“We’ve no place,” said Gilly dolefully. “Trying to
play the Lord’s guest when we’ve nothing but lint in our pockets, we’re the
tinkers. They know it. We know it. It is how our life has been ordered.”
“No,” replied Cuddy quietly. “We’ll not talk that way. We have been given life and as long as we
breathe a breath we have a right to a place on this earth. As far as life’s order, well, order can be
changed, rearranged, reshaped, restructured, reorganized, restyled, and
remade. Why even women understand that,
Gilly. Use your manly senses. You’ve seen young lasses with straight hair,
ordered from birth, use the crimping irons and change that natural order into
masses of unnatural curls that put the natural to shame and you’ve seen the
Negress take her curls, ordered by nature, and change them into the straightest
hair ever seen. Order is what you decide
to make it, Gilly, and we’re not going to accept the order that seems to have
been forced upon us by a changing society.
We’re going to bend, change, turn, twist, and bow into any shape
necessary to adapt. Besides,” he said,
“we’ve learned something from everyone we’ve ever met. In this particular situation we can learn a
great deal about a group of people we’ve spent little time with. It may be a humbling experience just as this
overhearing of a trifle of a conversation has been—but what have we lost? In truth, nothing. A little flush to the cheeks. But, we’ve gained. We’ve learned of a certain attitude that is
maintained by these young men toward others who are of different manner and
habit and speech than themselves. If we
choose to run for the red in our cheeks, then we not only deprive ourselves of
a learning experience, Gilly, but we also deprive the young Lords of a learning
experience.”
“How so?” asked a surprised Gilly.
“They’ve not much of a chance to be in close contact
with the lower classes, to observe their manner of reacting to education and
the demands of such an environment. This
is a golden opportunity for them to observe first hand the rigors experienced
by ones who’ve not been born to it. In
truth, Gilly, they may be astounded at our use of a fork and knife at table and
the means with which we express ourselves in speech and in writing, but if we
stay through all obstacles and if we improve and if we display the kind spirit
and the humble attitude as we overcome our difficulties, we should procure a
type of admiration even from the hardest hearted son.”
Gilly frowned and replied reluctantly, “I suppose
you’re right. I’m remembering the runt
pup we used to have. No one thought much
about him or his abilities and he was much the brunt of Father’s tongue and
boot, but he grew to be a fine watchdog with a purposeful eye and even Father
became quite fond of him and was heard to brag on him from time to time.”
“Aye,” enthusiastically replied Cuddy. “Just so.
If the least thing we find after our education is that these lads can
never be kind to anyone holding less than their social status, no matter how
winning the ways of such ones, then we’ll take away with us the thought that
when we’ve obtained our wealth we shall never act the lads of Maid’s Club with
any less fortunate or more pitiable than ourselves. Harsh and unkind lessons can trim a heart
into a fine mold of kindness if one but lets it happen.”
“Ye know, Cuddy, I’ve just been reminded of a wee
story in Mum’s Book. She used to tell us
the story sometimes and I’m just now seeing an application for it.”
“I listen well, Gilly.”
“That I know.
Remember Joseph? His people were
an abhorrence to the Egyptians. They had
to dine separately and were not well welcomed at the Egyptians’ tables. And, when the kind Joseph was given
permission to settle his people on Egyptian land, he settled them in a place that
was set apart from the Egyptians. We’re
not unlike that situation, are we? We’re
having to set at different tables for our lack of fine manners and upbringing. The important thing to remember is that
Joseph did not allow that to keep him from succeeding right well because he
knew it was not the sitting and eating at a separate table that would keep him
from prospering. He knew prospering came
from the Father and he knew despite those circumstances, his Father could work
around all things and prosper him well.”
Cuddy laughed a bit and said, “Joseph had a prison
record, too, Gilly. What would the young
fellows think if we had the same background as Joseph and endeavoring to sit in
the same room as themselves?”
“Most likely the young fellows would be greatly
shocked, Cuddy. There’s many a man who’s
not been able to raise himself from such a background primarily because he
relied on men to raise him rather than relying on the Father who is able to
break all barriers and prosper a man accordingly.”
Gilly lowered his head and smiled ruefully. “Well, this instance truly was a
discomfiture, but you’ve spoken truly by saying our shame has nothing to do
with our Father’s direction for our future prospering. It wasn’t the lads who put us in
McAllistair’s room and it wasn’t the lads who paid for our tuition this year to
give us a start on the road to wisdom and knowledge. So, we’ll be the ever humble men and keep our
minds about us and continue on under the Father’s hand, hoping for the help He
so richly gave Joseph.”
Chapter 9
The Struggle
The week began with new exams in each class. While properly prepared for their lessons,
the two boys were not able to finish their exams within the allotted time and
found themselves diligently working when the professors called for all exams
forward.
McGillvery and McGillicuddy quickly followed their
papers and meekly asked if they might have an extended time to answer the rest
of the questions.
“Those who work accurately and speedily will sit in
the houses of kings, gentlemen. It is a Hebrew proverb, I believe. Speed indicates proficiency. Obviously, your inability to finish the exam
indicates your lack of diligence and desire.
We are all graded in life, Sirs, by our actions. You have failed a second time to achieve,”
spoke the Latin professor sternly. “Let
me remind you, there are no second chances to do well at All’s Hallows. It appears your career here will be short
indeed.”
He gathered his papers, placed them carefully into
his bag, and retreated through a side door in the auditorium.
McGillvery looked at McGillicuddy. “Proficiency?
We’ve been here for a week. How
could we have gained proficiency in that short time? Didn’t we study with great diligence? I was answering all the questions when the
time ran out.”
McGillicuddy looked as confused as did
McGillvery. “The other students finished
quite early. Why, I saw one young fellow
leave nearly as soon as he was given the exam!
Are we that slow, then? Ahhh,” he
murmured regretfully, “I would hate to think of ourselves as the clods.”
“I do not understand how these young men were able
to finish the exam so quickly.”
Cuddy replied, “It cannot be they knew the
information better than we for we studied rightly.”
“Then, what could it be?”
“Perhaps they’re quicker at the writing than
we. In truth, we’re not well practiced
in that skill. It was never required of
us. The young men have most likely put a
great many words to paper long before they came to university. Years of practice would make them skillful at
the art.”
“Perhaps we could be explaining the problem to the
professor and he could be assigning us time to finish our examinations.”
“Somehow I’m not seeing him as a fellow much given
to helping us.”
“It’s his position to help the students,” replied a
disgruntled Gilly.
“I’m thinkin’ these professors are a different sort
than the usual teacher and a bit more temperamental. If ye think about it, even in our tinker’s
wagon we had a change of scenery all the day long and unique conversation
between the two of us and our customers.
But the professor has only to stand in front of a class all the entire
day saying, ‘Amas, Amo, Amat.’”
“Aye, that could make a fellow a mite cranky.”
“And not just a little bored.”
“No,” corrected Gilly, “’tis no excuse. One must never lose sight of the meaning of
what they do and must always remember the most serving and the most faithful
servant is the one to be the most rewarded.”
“Whether the professor is kind or otherwise, does
not lessen the fact that we’ve need to pass our exams,” worried Cuddy. “We’ve need of sound advice for our
improvement.”
“Aye, we didn’t get to be the traders we are without
the advice and leadership of our father.”
“Then, we’d best be looking for the greater Father’s
advice,” returned Gilly.
After the second class, the boys headed for their
room, pulled out their mother’s book and read, “Go to the ant, you lazy idler
and observe his ways…the lazy man turns idly upon his bed and is so lazy he
will not bring his finger back from the bowl into which it is dipped.”
“But, we worked with mighty effort this week,
Cuddy. What can He ever be meaning by
that?”
“Perhaps we did not work mightily enough,
Gilly. I’m remembering the patriarch
Jacob complaining for the redness of eye he had for staying up all the night in
cold and foul weather and working through the day, too. Perhaps we’re needing to do without the sleep
to improve our performance.”
“’Tis important to eat and to get one’s sleep,”
objected Gilly.
“However, perhaps we need to gather more hours from
our sleeping and give those hours to studying.
If we slept two hours less per night, we could practice writing our
letters during those hours so we could write with more proficiency and
rapidness. It could be,” he mused, “we’re
like an empty pitcher that’s needin’ to be filled with a different kind of work
habit than the one we’ve been used to all our days.”
“And pitchers can be over-filled and ruin lovely
things all around them,” grumbled Gilly, who dearly loved his sleep.
“But, they can also be filled to just the right
level and with fullness begin to run over in passed examinations and good
knowledge and understanding,” pointed out his brother.
So began the most difficult year of the boys’
life. Their eyes found little slumber
and they grew to regret the time necessary for the daily exercise of the
horses. Often, they looked past their
balcony to see the Lord’s sons running and playing freely on the grass. Every day found the Brothers diligently retired
to their room for study while the clubroom below rocked with jocularity into
the wee hours of the morning. There was
no space of a moment for them to waste and still McGillvery and McGillicuddy
failed to make the excellent scores they so desired.
Finally, the day came for the first semester’s final
examinations which both boys, despite diligent preparation, failed
together. After a brief meeting with the
school administrator concerning their records, a greatly dispirited Gilly said,
“We’ve sold ourselves, Cuddy. We thought
we were slaves to Mister Poverty. Now
we’ve become slaves to the whims of the professors and their calculated desire
to prove us under. They seem to
positively revel in our failure.”
Cuddy was exceedingly quiet looking for the words to
help his brother. Finally he said,
“There are many ways to be slaves. There
are many ways to be disciplined. We may
need to look at this as a discipline leading to better things rather than as a
slavery with no hope in sight.”
“Learning has always been a joyful thing. It is no longer joyful,” complained Gilly.
“It is because this Mother whips her children to get
them to walk, Gilly. It is more
difficult to learn to walk when there is not a smiling face encouraging one to
make the first faltering steps. We’re
the babes here. We still do not write as
fast as the other young men despite our diligence in practice. Our minds are slower in grasping the
knowledge. We’re rather like a new field
that’s never been plowed. It’s a slow
process to remove the trees and the stones and the sod that stands in the way
of a proper sowing. Every day we
diligently prepare ourselves, only to fail growing the beautiful seeds being
planted in us. But, at some point in
time, our soil should be so beautifully prepared that we shall finish our exams
on time and grow quite fine things in our soil.”
“Ye’ve a way with the words when it comes to
encouraging others, Cuddy,” said Gilly meekly.
“That’s a fine way to look at what’s happening to us. I would have likened it more to a sharp rake
digging the skin from our bones so that we can be planted under the university
sod.”
Cuddy grinned.
“I’ve thought that, too. But it
will not help to think about it that way.
We would be running instead of taking the pain.”
“Will the day ever come when university understands
that just as all men eventually walk given the proper environment and
encouragement, all men could succeed in mastering knowledge if given enough
tries? Failure is not a bad thing,
Cuddy. It is the means to success. The baby falls and falls before finally
standing on its own two legs to walk.
Why doesn’t the university understand that basic principle of living?”
“It seems to me the university only works with the
noblemen’s sons. Perhaps these children
never fall before they walk. Perhaps it’s
only the poor children who fall and fall before walking.”
“Do ye think so?” asked an amazed Gilly.
“Aye, possibly so.
We’ve never been behind the castle walls to see how such men are as the
wee babes.”
“Then, that would explain why the university has no
patience with such as we be. It’s a good
thing they had no control over us as babies for then we should’ve never been
able to do anything but crawl. What a
division between men that would be—a sort who crawl and a sort who walk—all for
the upbringing!”
“Aye, it seems a great evil. The Book speaks of men ruling others to their
own hurt. It seems a deep kind of
meanness to keep good men down in a serving capacity for lack of patience in
helping them become more than they are.
I’m wondering now what would happen if knowledge were offered freely to
all men just as walking is offered freely by God to all babes…if they released
the knowledge instead of holding it high above one’s head and making one jump
and beg for it as a dog leaping for a bite of meat at the hand of a meanly
teasing child, where would our world be?
Perhaps by now all poor men would know what the finest engineer and
doctor know and all rich men would have the knowledge of angels. Perhaps there would be no more poverty
anywhere, no more want, no more sickness, and no more death. Elevation of man, Cuddy, is not a bad
thing. It is a good thing, not to be
withheld for privately held assumptions that knowledge is power that is to be
wielded over others to keep them in a slavery position of want and
destitution.”
Gilly shook his head and replied, “Well, for all
that, we’ve need to learn how to walk in this most knot-headed land. You told me once, when you were doing your
military training and I was speaking of the harshness of it, that ‘in the
struggle is the proving.’ I thought
about that long after you’d gone to serve in the foreign lands, Cuddy. Those six little words seem to cover the
reality of every endeavor—whether it be a soldier of highest rank or a Mother
raising her child or a man keeping his family—they each have a battle and a
struggle of immense proportions. But in
overcoming all the obstacles that come their way, while maintaining good
dispositions free of hurt, greed, envy, and malicious intent, they come out of
their struggles beautiful, useful human beings—beings of worth and valor.”
“Speaking of the struggle, Gilly,” interrupted
Cuddy, “what was the meaning of the letter we just received from the administration
office saying we were on academic probation?”
“I think it means we shall no longer be allowed to
attend the classes if we continue failing our examinations.”
“That’s what I was thinking it was meaning and I’ve
been holding an opinion about a solution to our academic woes. Do ye remember Father saying there was a man
made for every job and a job for every man?
I’ve been thinking perhaps we are taking classes ill-suited for our
particular talents.”
“I didn’t see classes teaching how to properly shoe
a tinker’s pony,” remarked Gilly wryly.
Cuddy grimaced sharply. “Just hear me out a bit, Brother.” He continued, “I heard one of the boys at
Schaeffer’s table saying he was most in love with the mathematics and the physics
and it was there he excelled, but that he most certainly hated the languages
and the arts for the difficulty he was having in those subjects. He said he could see no proper sense to them
and had failed languages most miserably.
It occurred to me that the error we’re making is in the subjects we are
studying rather than within ourselves.”
“We were not able to have our choice of study
material for this semester, were we?”
“Nay, we were not.
We took that which was left over and not wanted by anyone else due to
our late enrollment.”
“Are ye thinkin’ we could be studying the
mathematics and the physics?”
“I’m not truly knowin’. But, we are fair handy at adding the number
columns with honest accuracy. This is
something we’ve done frequently in our tinkerin’ business. We should excel beyond the other classmates
for the practice we’ve had at it.”
“That’s true!”
replied Gilly excitedly. “It
would be a wonderful thing to be at the front of the class instead of at the
end of the class for performance. We are good at the numbers. Studying the mathematics could well save our
academic careers.”
Catching a bit of Gilly’s enthusiasm, Cuddy grinned
widely and said, “Then on the morrow, let’s be enrolling in those classes we’ve
a mind and a background for doing.”
Accordingly, on the very next day, Gilly and Cuddy enrolled in the study
of Mathematics and Physics.
Two weeks into the new session saw Gilly saying most
woefully, “I’m quick with the figures, but where in this world does a man add
the As, Xs, and Zs? These things are for
reading, not for adding and subtracting.
It’s as if the poor fellow has mixed his classes.”
“They talk about Pythagoras as if he were the
heavenly Father himself,” added Cuddy, “and yet I’ve never heard the man’s name
before in any conversation to the north or the south of all
“And what kind of writing is it, the little
squiggles and odd lines?”
“He called the one Psi or Phi. I couldn’t quite make out the sound of it.”
A passing student overhearing their conversation
said, “It was Phi and the professor was using it to label the adjacent and hypotenuse
angle of the obtuse triangle.”
“Thank you, right smartly,” called Gilly to the back
of the rapidly walking student. Turning
to Cuddy, he said, “What are we to do?
That lad is still in knee breeches nearly and knowing words we’ve never
heard tell of. We’re to surely fail
these classes, also, Cuddy.”
“And that means an end to our seeking of the wisdom
and knowledge,” spoke Cuddy while looking exceedingly troubled.
“Whatever was the Father thinking to send such
dull-witted creatures to university?”
“I’m not thinking it’s because we are dull-witted,”
replied Cuddy.
“Dull-witted or no, we’ve need of a fine plan or
we’ll never be gracing these halls again for all the days of our life.”
“We need some advice from those who know best what
to do. The young fellow at Maid’s Club
was failing the language classes and yet he still is attending the university.”
“We’ve not made many friends here to be asking the
proper way to do things. The boys at the
club are already laughing at us for our poor ways. I am most ashamed to allow them the privilege
of knowing we are equally as poor mentally as they think we are in physical
deportment.”
Cuddy shook his head negatively and firmly, “We’ll
not allow them that. There has to be
someone, somewhere who can tell us what to do without damaging our reputations
any further.”
Several days later the professor announced an
examination. “I wish to remind each of
you that the last possible day to withdraw from this class for no credit and no
record of poor performance is the 27th of this month. You will need my signature to validate the
withdrawal.”
Cuddy looked at Gilly. Gilly looked at Cuddy. After class, they approached the professor
and asked, “What does it mean to withdraw from a class?”
“It means you have firstly wasted money. It means secondly you have wasted time. It means thirdly you are a quitter and not a
finisher.”
The Brothers blushed deeply and apologetically
excused themselves. As they passed from
the classroom, one of their fellow students stopped them. “I heard what the professor said. I am withdrawing from this class.”
“Even though you’ll be labeled a quitter?” gasped
Gilly.
“The professors live in their own world. Students live in quite a different
world. Sometimes quitting is the most
prudent of several choices. I would
rather quit and save my academic record than push on and receive a permanent
mark of failure. Quitting a class is not
always significant of failure. Things
happen during a session—crisis in the family, finances, health—there are many
reasons a fellow may choose to withdraw and none of those reasons, despite what
the professor says, are dishonorable.”
The Brothers nodded their heads in thanks for the
wise advice of the lad. That same day,
they dropped both the Mathematics’ and the Physics’ class.
Chapter 10
A Small Plan
“Now that we are no longer the university students,
how are ye preposing’ we acquire knowledge?” asked Cuddy.
“We need to find a teacher,” said Gilly. “And I’m not talking about those professors
either! We’re needin’ to find someone
kind and mild of tongue, someone helpful and wishin’ to earn their salary by
the imparting of words we’re able to understand.”
“You know, Gilly, it’s going to take a lot more than
a teacher for a few weeks. I was hearing
one of the lads in Latin class saying he had been speaking Latin since he was
three years old and one of the fellows in Mathematics class had been studying
the Trigonometry since he was a small lad.
It seems they’ve all got a great start on us for accomplishing the education. I’m not sure how we’ll ever be catching them
with such a start as they’ve had in the running.”
“Perhaps we could begin by spending our evenings
reading the books in the library.”
“Those books might as well be written in the foreign
languages for the understanding I get from any one of them.”
“Perhaps we could slip into the back of the larger
classes and listen to the lectures until we could finally understand their
words. Even slaves going into foreign
households in ancient times eventually learned to speak the household
language. If we’re exposing ourselves to
the environment for long enough, perhaps we’ll be catching on to it kind of
natural like.”
“Perhaps,” said Cuddy doubtfully, then with more
conviction, “There’s not much else we can do.
We’ve been given a commission by our heavenly Father and somehow are in
need of fulfilling it. Dropping our
courses allowed the door to this institution to be left slightly ajar so that
we may re-enter again after we’re a bit better prepared.”
Gilly reminded Cuddy, “We’ll not be having the fine
room or the tuition monies when we enter again.”
“Then, the first thing to do is to prepare a means
of financially sustaining ourselves now and in the future when we’re going to
need the gold for paying our tuition and our boarding.”
“Are ye havin’ any ideas as to how we can accomplish
that feat? Ye’re asking two poor tinkers
to be raisin’ enough money to support themselves and ten others besides. That’s a stretch of the imagination to be
thinkin’ we could accomplish such a thing when we’ve barely been able to feed
ourselves on our efforts up until this time.”
“The Lord gives good ideas to those who fear Him and
actually,” replied Cuddy with a bit of an impish grin, “I do have a bit of an
idea that may work quite nicely. It came
to me the other day when we saw Connor and he told us how much he missed his
mother’s good Irish stew. It occurred to
me that we make a fine Irish stew—better than our own mother’s—and a fair to
middlin’ soda bread. I thought if we set
our tinker’s wagon to the side of the campus lawn and served hot stew and hot
soda bread all the day for a student’s price, we may procure enough funds to
pay our tuition monies and buy our books.
Our meals could be that which is left over at the end of day and we can
room and study in our tinker’s cart between serving the young men their stew.”
Gilly looked admiringly at his brother. “Two heads are better’n one. ’Tis a fine, bright idea!”
Encouraged by his brother’s enthusiasm, Cuddy
continued, “I was also thinking we could take one class a semester rather than
two until we could become stronger in our minds and in our performance. We could take the classes on
“It’s a plan,” agreed Gilly.
“We’re free of the studying for the rest of this
semester. Would be a good time to
establish our small business and since the Mathematics and Physics classes are
paid for, perhaps the professors would allow us to at least sit in our seats
for listening even though we wouldn’t be sitting for the final exams and class
credit.”
“We could also spend our evenings listening to the
visiting professors’ lectures. It would
give us a head start on knowing the kinds of things they’ll be talking about
when we take the classes on those subjects.”
“T’would give us a broader perspective than we now
have,” agreed Cuddy.
“Will give us a chance to repair the fact we weren’t
weaned on the Greek alphabet the Mathematics’ professor is so fond of.”
“Will close the gap a bit between those born to it
and those wishing to acquire it.”
“It’s a meager start, isn’t it?” asked Gilly,
discouraged and daunted by the task before them.
“Aye,”
admitted Cuddy. “But don’t be
forgetting, Brother, that even in the most established Baron’s line, someone,
somewhere had to start just like we are doing.
Somehow they succeeded and changed the future for their children. When we are done, our children will have the
battle partially won because they’ll have the parents who managed to conquer
the fight for knowledge. It will give
them courage and the courage will give them the power to acquire the knowledge
for themselves.”
“Then, for our future generations,” spoke Gilly.
And so, with a new plan in place, the boys retired
to the woods and used part of the remaining funds from the sale of their
merchandise to purchase supplies necessary to cook tasteful stews, to bake soda
bread, and to fix their tinker’s wagon into a cooking and sleeping shed on
wheels. Their days and nights were spent
listening in auditoriums to many lectures of fine words, most of which they did
not understand. Those they did
understand caused them to question, doubt, exclaim, and wonder.
“Did ye hear the man? What foolishness he talks! The very stars teach the infiniteness of it
all. There are no boundaries. The man is positively Godless for such a weak
outlook. Whoever put a boundary on the
dynamic energy of God? It is as if they
have shut Him out of their world,” exclaimed Cuddy after one such evening
lecture.
“Ohhhh,” breathed Gilly quietly after another
evening lecture. “But do ye really see
the wickedness of this proposal? It
gives justification for holding back from the poor and needy. If you believe there is a limit to energy,
wealth, knowledge, ability—that all things are conserved—then you are justified
in limiting those things to others on the basis that there will never be enough
to go around. That will lead to starving
children because instead of believing there is an answer to all things and that
doing without is not necessary, they will see lack as necessary and
unavoidable.”
“This is a great wickedness…a philosophy of
deficiency instead of plenty” agreed Cuddy.
“They are putting restraints upon our Father,
Cuddy. This is a sore badness. How could the Father desire us to be in such
a place teaching such ridiculous notions?”
“Perhaps He has put us here so we can help others
see that answers can always be found to man’s problems when man looks to his
Source instead of to his lack. Man’s
true Source knows no lack. Tapping into
the Source will result in boundless energy and material substance to carry
through any rightful project.”
Gilly lay his
head to one side and then began chuckling.
“But, now, weren’t we complaining that we weren’t able to feed five
thousand on a few loaves of bread as did our Lord and that we couldn’t do it
without the gold? And, now, we’re
chiding those who have decided that everything is limited. Really, Cuddy, in a way they are saying the
same thing we did—they’ve not the gift of unlimited resources.”
“And, yet, we do not believe there is truly limited
supply. We’ve an un-sureness as how to
access it so that it comes from the wishing world into the reality world. But, we’ve never denied infinite energy or
infinite supply. Think about it for a
moment. If there were a limited supply,
we could never gain our plenteous abundance that we’ve so earnestly
sought. It could never be there, because
it doesn’t exist. We wouldn’t continue
searching and following our Father’s advice if we didn’t believe there was a
way out of limited means and supply.
Conservation of energy and the concept that matter is of finite amount
and changes shape and substance lends to a terrible conclusion. It means that as we use what we have, there
will eventually come a time when the earth is a barren wasteland, a desert
incapable of supporting life and that life itself will vanish from this
sphere. Without the Source, free
laughter could perish from the earth. We
could become incapable of enjoying color, smell, taste, feeling the softness of
silk, our world would become a world of black and white with nothing to
tantalize or romanticize the process of living.
What a barren existence!”
“You have just described hell…a place of darkness
and bleakness living forever without joy.”
“Then what is this place we have found ourselves
in? Is it a den of the Devil
himself? That would explain why it is
such torture and why we’ve become slaves to something that has always before
been a pleasant task altogether. Think
about it. The wee professor was talking
this evening about a denial of infinite power and energy. He is teaching a limited source. The only limited source I know of is the
Devil himself. He is certainly limited,
for the Book tells us in no uncertain terms that he shall have an end. He is a finite quantity. The Book promises a happy ending to man’s
story. It promises good shall always
prevail.”
“Then we are taking a meal at the Devil’s table
instead of God’s,” observed Gilly.
“However,” reasoned Cuddy, “even our Lord was taken
into the wilderness for a span of time with the Devil. This may be our wilderness—a trial period to
test our adherence to proper thinking in the face of tremendous challenges to
that thinking.”
“Or,” hesitated Gilly, “perhaps it is like initial
military training. The training is cruel
and denies much that our dear mother taught, but its purpose is to teach man
proficiency, speed, and accurateness of action in order to preserve personal
life and a nation’s life under duress.
There’s a fine worth there even though not initially seen.”
“Daniel
served the king when he was done with his education. Perhaps because these young men must serve
the king, the university acts like a mental boot camp with the end desire that
successful completion will produce mental warriors with broad thinking
abilities who will not buckle under stress and foreign ideas. When attacked, they will press forward
solving problems as they arise.”
“Perhaps so,” replied Gilly. “At any rate, this is where our Lord has
placed us and we’d best be attending to our business.” As the boys turned in their beds, Gilly said,
“Man is one-directional in his thinking, isn’t he?”
“How so?” mumbled Cuddy sleepily.
“The answers man seeks to his questions are either
yes or no. He never sees that the answer
can be yes nearly all the time for every question asked.”
“How do ye mean?”
“Did ye notice this evening that the Professor gave only
two choices to his questions—that of yes and that of no. I was thinking that those weren’t the only
two choices in the reality of the matter.
There are always more choices than that.
It’s rather like telling two children, one of them can have the candy
and the other can’t when in reality both of them can have it if they share it.”
Cuddy mumbled, “By only giving two choices, he can direct
the conversation to go where he wishes it to go, Gilly. It’s an old trader’s trick used to ensure the
outcome of the sale. I’m surprised ye
were forgettin’ it.” His voice trailed
away and he fell asleep to dream of long days cooking stew and serving endless
lines of young, tired, starving men on university grounds.
And, the brothers prospered. By mid-semester, they had saved enough coin for
both their classes and their books for the coming semester and had become so
popular in serving the students that they considered purchase of a second cart
to locate on the far side of the campus.
“If we get too involved in the cooking and serving,
we’ll not get our lessons, Cuddy,” noted Gilly worriedly.
“Perhaps we can find another student to manage the
second cart and then our only increase in work load would be buying twice as
many supplies at a time and delivering the supplies to the other cart.”
“Which of the nobles’ sons would work in our cart?” fretted
Gilly.
Cuddy laughed.
“There’s more than nobles’ sons attending university. For free room and board, such ones would be
glad to manage a cart.”
Beginning Spring holiday, the boys began scouring
“You need a third wagon for the western side of the
campus. Some of the students are
complaining for the walk from one side of the green to the other for their
lunches.”
So, the boys found themselves purchasing a third
wagon for cooking and by the end of the semester had four wagons cooking stew,
frying herring, and baking soda bread.
When they counted their monies at the end of the school year, they were
amazed to find they were no longer standing in run down shoes.
Chapter 11
Charity
“Why, Cuddy,” whispered an amazed Gilly, “we’ve
become the prosperous lads.”
“Aye, that’s the fact of it,” agreed an equally
astonished Cuddy. “It seems the Father
got into all our produce and made right ample of a little.”
“Then we’re in need of tithing a bit of it as a
proper thank you for our prospering.”
“An’ where would ye have a mind to be doing that?”
“The orphanage—the one down by the waterfront—the
one where the children play in the dirt with no grass or flowers anywhere.”
“Ye’ve a mind to plant them grass and flowers?”
“I’m thinkin’ they would appreciate a bowl of stew
laced with meat more than the grass and flowers,” laughed Gilly. “First things first. But, if the Father continues to bless
us—grass, flowers, and trees for their spirit and well-being.”
“Then, we’ll go today and get such business as that
done.”
Soon they were sitting in the orphanage’s small,
rather shabby office in front of a disheveled, ill-kempt woman of furtive and
speculating eye.
“So, we’re wishin’ to buy the children meat for
their stew each day,” finished Cuddy.
“It would be better if you left the cash, Sir. We’ve many needs here at the orphanage,” the
woman replied. “Sometimes, meat is the
least of them.”
“I would leave the cash, but ’tis not a great amount
at present and I’m believing the meat will go farther than the money. Whatever funds you have budgeted for the
children’s meat can then be used for the other needs of which you spoke.”
The woman seemed to narrow her eyes slightly before
saying with a particularly bright smile, “I’ve a meat vendor. Let me get my wrap and we’ll make the
arrangements today.”
McGillvery and McGillicuddy dutifully followed her
to a dilapidated meat market located at the very farthermost part of town. She entered the establishment with
familiarity and called loudly for a man named John. He came from the back of the building, wiping
bloodstained hands on a well used apron.
The smallish woman nodded curtly toward McGillvery
and McGillicuddy. “They’ve money to
spend for the children’s meat.”
“How much?” he said.
“Enough to buy their meat for a year,” replied
McGillvery.
The man nodded, “In advance for the year.”
“Nay,” disagreed Cuddy, “in advance for the
week. You deliver wrapped and bagged
every weekday, early morning. We’ll pay
for the daily delivery. The funds will
be deposited at the money house and you may receive your monies for your week’s
work there at the end of each week.”
John looked at the orphanage’s housemother as if
questioning how he should answer. She
seemed to return the look steadily without expression. John nodded toward the boys in agreement with
their offer.
McGillicuddy said, “The best meat. We’ve need of strengthening the little ones.”
“I know my business,” replied the man shortly.
McGillicuddy handed the first week’s payment to the
meat cutter and the brothers left.
“Not such a clean place,” remarked Gilly.
Cuddy looked worriedly over his shoulder. “I should have picked another place than that
to do my business. There’s a yard up the
street that has fine animals in it.”
“The woman may have been buying her meat here for
many years. It’s best to honor old
arrangements,” replied Gilly carefully.
“’Tis usually the best business policy.”
“Aye,” agreed Cuddy more relieved, “and we’ve taken
care of our tithing by helping those unable to help themselves.”
After a brief stop to set up the meat funding at the
money house, the boys continued on their way home making cheerful plans as
those with proper funding are able to do.
“Do you realize we’ve made enough gold that we can
choose to stay at Maid’s Club and pay the annual fee ourselves?”
“And enough to be served more than the one meal a
day we were allowed.”
Gilly grinned sheepishly, “In truth, I’m enjoying
our Irish stew and I’m not truly averse to returning to our tinker’s wagon for
evening board.”
“And me neither,” admitted Cuddy. “But, at Maid’s Club we’re learning ways we
cannot learn by staying in our tinker’s wagon.”
“Sometimes I’m thinking we’re fishing in shallow
waters, Cuddy. Every time I watch the
young lads fastidiously trimming their steaks, I can’t help seeing the orphans
at the waterfront who would readily suck down the gristle of the young lad’s
steak if given half a chance at it.”
“Everyone likes the best of the bite, Gilly. Even the orphans would trim their meat if
there ever was enough of it to trim.
It’s the way of all men. The
Father trains us to prefer the best in taste and in beauty by the things He
provides us in nature—the savor of fresh peach, the aroma of the rose, the
beauty of a young child’s face. It is
natural to endeavor to take the best and discard the rest. The fact is we’ve a work to do with our
education, Gilly, and we’ll be less offensive in the house of a king if we’ve
acquired some of the better ways of the young gentlemen. Staying at Maid’s Club is the best we can do
to acquire some of those manners seeing how the university does not provide
courses in proper speech and deportment.”
“They don’t provide those courses, Cuddy, because
they expected such things to have come from the home rearing.”
“We had good things from our rearing, Gilly—just not
those particular effects. We’re more
like the natural children who’ve been raised on a lifetime safari—without the
servants.” He brightened and said, “Do
you realize that we’ve finally acquired the funds to afford the tailor,
Charbon; the shoes of O’Malley; and Madam LeRoux’s care of our hair, face,
hands and feet? Do you think we should
finally take care of those items?”
Gilly looked down at his department shoes from the
last semester. “I would dearly love to
see O’Malley first.”
“Then, O’Malley’s it shall be,” replied Cuddy quite
grandly.
The boys walked the small distance to O’Malley’s unpretentious
shop, entered, and sat waiting for service.
No one appeared for a great long while.
Finally a young woman passing hurriedly through doors at the back of the
shop, stopped in great surprise at seeing the Brothers. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know we had an appointment this
afternoon. Have you been waiting
long? I apologize. Please forgive us. Wait, I’ll get Father and call Mary to serve
you rolls and tea. Are you
comfortable? We’ve other rooms for
seating if you’d prefer. In fact, I know
you would favor a fire and a window.
Please follow me to the Gold Room.
It is ever so much more pleasant than the entryway.”
The brothers followed the quick talking young lady
into a high ceiling room richly decorated with gilded vases, three-legged cherry
wood tables, and ornately carved mirrors liberally gilded in the rococo style
of a bygone era. A small fire radiated
comfortingly underneath a green-hued, Italian-marble mantelpiece whose shelf
barely seemed large enough to accommodate myriads of Danish crystal figurines
and one tall, thin French Queen’s clock inscribed with hundreds of tiny
fleur-de-lis around its brass base. Deeply
sculpted tapestries, gracefully looped back and secured to small golden lion’s
heads, framed large, bow windows offering heavenly views of late spring’s
peonies whose majestic deep purple and light pink heads were graciously bowing
toward emerald-green borders of neatly clipped grass. This small refuge was sequestered from the
street’s rude traffic by a sedate, gray, head-high, stone wall topped with the
frothing laciness of pink flowering cherry trees against the backdrop of a
perfectly blue sky. After graciously
seating the boys, the rapidly moving young woman left the room allowing entrance
of an older, methodically moving serving woman—her silver tray mounded with hot
bread, jams, butter, and a china teapot encrusted with sprays of porcelain
roses and flitting bluebirds.
“There, now,” she said hospitably, while setting
matching teacups and saucers within easy reach of the two brothers. “I’ve also sweet cakes which will be brought
along promptly.”
After the serving woman had left the room, Gilly
looked toward Cuddy and asked in a most astonished manner, “Did ye ever see
such a thing?”
“Nay,” replied Cuddy, equally astounded.
“When we were shopping in the department stores, we
were watched to prevent stealing and here we’re given the run of the house and
served like a king. Why? Why would there be such a difference in
treatment?”
“I’m not knowin’, but,” replied Cuddy, reaching for
the teapot, “I’m not complaining and I’m going to rigorously enjoy buying shoes
at O’Malley’s.”
A little later another young woman came with two small
foot tubs, washing salts, and scented oil.
She removed the brother’s shoes, washed and groomed their feet, oiled
them, and placed them within the comforting warmth of sheepskin slippers. She smiled and finished her duties by saying,
“Mr. O’Malley wishes you to look at his book and choose the type of shoe you
desire him to manufacture. He apologizes
for your wait. These are the leathers he
works with,” she said, handing a small, padded book of leather swatches to the
brothers. “He will send his young man to
measure and examine your feet in a few short moments.”
After the girl had left, Cuddy said quietly, “What a
pleasure this is. We’ve been treated
well, Gilly.”
“Aye, this is the way it should be for all men.”
The brothers chose more than a few of the sturdier
leathers and quite a few styles of shoe, allowed their feet measurement, and
made arrangements to return in two weeks for the final products.
The young man said, “Mr. O’Malley makes plaster
casts for returning customers so that he can make shoes for them no matter
where they may be traveling in the world.
We would be pleased to serve you for all your life’s needs and guarantee
that our shoes will never be uncomfortable nor show signs of severe wear for
the first year of use.”
The boys nodded happily, submitted their feet to
plaster casts, and left the shop feeling as if all was very right in their
world.
“Shall we make an appointment with Madam LeRoux and
Charbon for a room visit? It would not
do to have the shoes and not the clothing.”
Cuddy’s face, aglow from having received the
gentleman’s gracious treatment, nodded affirmatively.
Several days later, Madam LeRoux was cooing over the
boy’s hands, face, and hair.
“Ahhh! After
your expeditions, it takes me months to put you into proper order again. Look at these hands! The nails!
How do you expect to dance with the young ladies with hands such as
these?” She clipped, oiled, pressed,
kneaded, pulled, tweezed, and rubbed the brothers into a semblance of being the
better groomed young chaps and left with the boy’s promise that she would see
them again in one week. “Every week for
two months—that is what it will take to smooth off the roughness of your
voyages,” she informed them. “You
absolutely must not accept the more important invitations until I’ve finished
or you shall positively be laughed from the ballroom.”
The brothers inspected themselves in the mirror
after her leave.
“Do I look that badly then?” asked Gilly.
“Nay, ye’re lookin’ right handsome to me,” affirmed
Cuddy.
“An’ the same with you,” returned Gilly.
“We’ve not the sharp eye she has for the grooming,”
noted Cuddy.
“Aye, she’s got a particular, close eye, seems to
me.”
“The same eye Schaeffer had when he told us we
needed grooming.”
“Perhaps it’s an eye we’ll develop after being used
to the finer things.”
“Perhaps,” admitted Cuddy.
Chapter 12
A Twist in Fortune
The next day found the brothers in the middle of
Charbon’s measuring and cutting when the door to their room opened abruptly.
Schaeffer,
“It’s usual to knock when entering a gentleman’s
quarters,” protested Gilly.
Schaeffer walked imperiously toward McGillvery and
lifted a bit of the material from the tail of the suit Charbon was fitting.
“Charbon,” said Schaeffer mockingly, “you’ve not
brought such fine material even to me and you choose to dress thieves in such
finery?”
McGillvery and McGillicuddy mouths fell open in shocked
amazement. “Th…th…thieves?” they
stuttered in unison.
“How else could two tinkers become so prosperous all
of a sudden? Four business carts
purchased in one semester, employees, capital enough to place shoes, grooming,
and now the finest of clothing on backs used to nothing more than homespun
woolen britches? You’ve been an
embarrassment to Maid’s Club all the year and now, typical of your class,
you’ve chosen to elevate yourself by means of falsely procured monies.”
“Falsely procured monies?”
“Don’t pretend you haven’t been dipping into the
Club’s treasury box all this semester!” mocked Schaeffer. “Search their room and I think you’ll find
the monies,” he ordered.
The portly man began opening and closing one drawer
after another until he found the boy’s large sack of coin earned during the
semester.
“Here it is,” he grunted lifting the well-sewn sack
onto the bed.
“That’s our monies from the stew and bread we’ve
sold to the students all the semester,” protested McGillvery.
“That may be so, but where did you get the monies to
buy the carts and the ingredients for those stews? You stole them from the Club.”
Schaeffer turned to
“You’ll not take our hard-earned monies,” protested
McGillicuddy reaching for their bag of coin.
The portly man quickly stepped between the two
brothers and their bag of coin. “Back,” he commanded, “by order of law. You are under arrest and charged with
thievery for personal gain. You’ll swing
for it, I’m reckoning.”
“Charbon,” smiled Schaeffer mockingly, “I think you
just lost a sale.” He stood fingering
the material hanging loosely from McGillvery’s frame. “I may take your loss for a price if you’d
care to bring the suit round next week.”
Charbon began
gathering his bags, urging his tailors to pack the needles and fabrics
quickly. Meanwhile, the portly man had
twisted McGillicuddy’s hands behind his back and tied them securely with
McGillvery soon standing in the same manner beside his brother. The desk clerk did not raise his eyes as the
boys were ushered through the richly carved doors into the jailor’s wagon
outside. Within the hour, they were
sitting in the dungeon of
“Whatever did we
do to offend our Father so mightily?” asked Gilly woefully, looking through the
bars at the jailor’s retreating back.
“I’m surely not knowing. We tithed the top of our blessings for the
bottom to be receiving its blessing.”
“The bottom portion blessed itself right out of our
pocket into another’s,” dryly observed Gilly.
“Perhaps our tithe was not enough,” worried Cuddy.
“The whole bag of money was His. The Father could have had it all if He
desired it,” protested Gilly. “We
wouldn’t have withheld anything from Him that He asked. But He has always asked just the top of it.”
“Well, He must
have desired it all for it is all gone,” said Cuddy sadly.
“Aye, and that’s
for sure the truth,” agreed Gilly. “But,
why would He take our lives with our gold?
Have we that much error in us?
Has a fair Friend decided to turn foul?”
“Shhh!” whispered
Cuddy fiercely. “Nay, not ever! You’re knowing better than that! ’Tis not in His personality to play foully
with man. His friendliness is forever
and He’s fair forgiving of men. I’m
thinking the accusations are not coming from Him. He’s just watching the game.”
“Then we better be
playing it well.”
“Aye.”
“A fellow could
nearly go insane with such accusations being brought against his good name and
with nothing to defend himself,” ruminated Gilly.
“We’re not the
first accused, Gilly,” reminded Cuddy.
“Joseph was accused, Daniel
accused. They were innocent men, as
innocent as we be. When a man’s
innocent, he’s sure to have heaven’s help to skim out of impossible
circumstances. We’ll yet see salvation
by our Father even though it looks most grim now. The intrigue of men is never blessed by our
Lord. It must have looked grim for
Daniel when he was thrown into the lion’s pit—but the grimness stopped short of
his life. The life of the Lord’s men are
precious in His eyes. It’s a promise
sure.”
“His Son’s life
was precious in the Father’s eyes, too,” reminded Gilly fretfully, “but did not
keep him from dying at men’s hands. Are
ye thinkin’ we’re more valuable than the Father’s own son?”
“Nay,” returned
Cuddy, horrified. “There was reasons for
that sorry happenstance and we’ve need to remember even though he was allowed
to die, he was not left moldering in the grave.”
Gilly moaned lowly.
“I was sort of hoping for a reward on this side of forever before seeing
the other side of forever.”
His
brother’s eyes filled with ready moisture.
“Aye, we’ve been lookin’ for it all our life and it’s always gone every
which way except beside us.”
Gilly sank to the
floor and held his head in his hands.
“We just got a small start and I was so proud of our plan. It looked like we would finally be able to
raise ourselves from the poverty of the land.
I would wish death at my own hands rather than to lose everything this
way—even our names. Should we hang, we’ll
not even be buried amongst the decent folks we’ve so admired and tried to emulate,
Cuddy. They’ll bury us apart in an
unworthy grave.”
“An’ don’t be
talkin’ that way,” urged Cuddy. “It’s
one thing to die unworthy as judged by men.
It’s of consequence, that’s to be sure.
But to take our own life is to be dishonored before men and before our Father—with a much more
serious consequence coming. We’re not
dishonorable men who would give into such an act—it would be like disowning the
Father’s ability to act in our behalf no matter how ill favored the
situation. His advice is always to be
calm to the very last and wait on Him.
That is the far-sighted thing to do. Since when is the Father’s hand too
short to save? We have to give Him every
opportunity to save us and to right this situation. The game is never over till the heart stops
beating and the breath of life stops coming.”
Cuddy stretched his hands out before him. “I’m seeing plenty of life in these limbs and
I’m not crying for death’s reprieve so soon.
I’m not aware of wrong-doing on our part against our Father. So, we’re suffering for another’s error and
the Father is allowing it. The question
is: whose error?”
“It could be anyone from the desk clerk to Shaeffer
himself,” replied Gilly.
“’Twill be hard to prove sitting as we are in this
dungeon.”
“We’re needin’ a flesh and blood friend to help us.”
“Pray for the Father’s help and perhaps He’ll send
us just the right friend for our needs.”
The two brothers spent the next several days in
diligent prayer for supernatural help to relieve themselves of their
distressful circumstances and on the third week the door to their prison was
opened and the keeper called roughly, “Come out, McGillvery and McGillicuddy.”
The brothers scrambled to their feet and immediately
stumbled toward the light pouring around and about the bulk of a man standing
in the middle of the prison door. They
stood patiently while their hands and feet were bound and they followed the
jailor from foul-smelling, darkened caverns far below the street into the
sweet-smelling, light-filled world above the streets. The jailor wound along several narrow
alleyways finally arriving at the inside of a dingy, poorly lit building ruled
by long hallways broken by interminable lines of cracked, aging, wooden
doors. At the tenth door to the right of
a nondescript wooden stairway leading into darkened heights, the gaol keeper
knocked briskly.
“Come in.”
He opened the door and said, “The two thieves.” He motioned for McGillvery and McGillicuddy
to enter and shut the door behind them.
A young man, seated with his back to them, quietly finished a small note
to himself. He turned round and said,
“Well, now, you’ve gotten yourselves into a bit of trouble, I see. The new semester has started and the campus
is quite full of disgruntled students looking for their bread and stew wagons.”
“Sean!” said McGillvery. “Sean Connor!
An’ what would a reader of books be doing in a place like this?”
“I read the law books, McGillvery, and I’m
performing for Schenectady & Sons as an apprentice lawyer this semester.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“It means I am your legal representation in Maids
Club’s complaint against you.”
“You’re the one to help us, then.”
“I hope I can help you,” he said. “Somehow I never took you to be thieves.”
“Nay, not thieves and never thieves,” protested
McGillicuddy. “It would be a crime
against our heavenly Father’s good name as a competent provider to steal from
others to enrich ourselves.”
“Then how are you explaining the tremendous amount
of coin found in your rooms?”
“Honest wages from our wagons,” replied Gilly
truthfully.
“I remember the one wagon you had at Earl
Donogough’s. Where did you get the other
three wagons?”
“We purchased them with the monies from our stews.”
“That’s the problem.
No one will believe you could possibly have prospered so as to have
quadrupled your assets in addition to having procured a sizable bag of coin in
such a short time. It just doesn’t
happen. In a short few weeks you went
from paupers to the gentlemen able to purchase shoes at O’Malley’s. It’s not the usual happenstance.”
“The Father of us all wishes his own to prosper and
He prospered us according to his wishes,” earnestly replied Gilly.
“I don’t think the judge will accept that as reason
for your unaccountable prosperity. We’ll
have to do some better than that. So,
I’ll ask you the next logical question: if you didn’t take the monies from
Maid’s Club, who do you think did?”
McGillvery’s face fell. “We’ve talked about it for many a day now and
have come to no conclusion. Anyone could
have stolen the monies—from the desk clerk to Schaeffer himself. But…,” Gilly hesitated.
“But, what?” asked Connor quickly.
“We’re not wanting to accuse. But our mother always said when someone
points a finger at you there’s three fingers pointing back at them. It’s Schaeffer accused us. If our mum was right, it may be Schaeffer
himself who removed the funds and besmirched our name to keep his own.”
Sean Connor leaned back in his chair and pressed the
fingers of his hands together while thinking for a bit. “Do you know anything about Schaeffer—his
tastes, his daily habits?”
“Nay. He
listens to the other young fellows talk and directs the conversation at table,
but rarely has he ever told a story of his own.
Come to think of it,” added McGillicuddy, “there’s no stall in the
stable bearing his name for his own mounts like most of the other young
men.”
Cuddy turned to Gilly with sudden realization, “Now,
that’s odd, isn’t it? Even
“Have you ever seen him playing the games?” asked
Gilly.
“Nay, I’ve only seen him at dining table.”
“Then we’ll start there,” replied Connor. “I can arrange for your release; however, I’m
afraid all your assets have been confiscated and you’ll not have room or
board. It may actually be to your
benefit to stay in gaol. It may not be
comfortable, but at least provides a roof over your head and something to eat.”
McGillicuddy flushed redly before saying, “Freedom
and starvation is better than prison and plenty.”
Connor laughed heartily. “There’s not an Irishman alive who wouldn’t
have said the same,” he grinned, while pushing his chair back from the table
and standing. “All right, boys. The papers will be ready by tomorrow.”
Chapter 13
The Bottom of Things
Precisely at one o’clock in the afternoon of the
next day the gaolkeeper released McGillvery and McGillicuddy with orders to
report daily to the office of Sean Connor.
As they were turning to leave, Gilly asked, “We were havin’ our mum’s
book in our father’s tinker’s wagon. Is
there bein’ a small chance we could be retrieving the Book for reading?”
The keeper shook his head. “Everything’s been impounded waiting for
auction.”
On the street, Gilly said, “What shall we do without
our Book?”
Cuddy replied glumly, “We shall follow the
principles the best we know how and rely on the Father to act in our
behalf. His friendship is not based upon
possession or non-possession of the Book.
There are those who never read the Book who had His help all their
lives. Remember the verse about
Cyrus? You’re well-knowing he didn’t
read the Book, yet the promise was that the Father would be buckling his very
belt without him knowing it. If He could
act for a non-reader in such a manner as that, what could He do for those
schooled in the reading of His words?
Faith, Gilly,” encouraged Cuddy firmly, “and courage. Those who fear the Father have confidence in
the Father. We’re to put on the bold
face and the bold actions that He is more than with us. One of the things He guards his own from is
the scourge of tongues. We’ve been scourged
and unjustly accused. We just need to
believe that the Father is more than capable of handling this little upset in
our affairs.”
“We’re back
to nothing but lint in our pocket,” noted Gilly.
“And, an empty stomach.”
“An’ not even the comfort of our tinker’s wagon.”
“It’s to rain this evening sure,” observed Cuddy,
looking at the sky.
“We can sleep in the lane where we kept our wagon,”
suggested Gilly.
“And be soaked through under the trees.”
“We could sleep in the library at the university.”
“And be thrown out early in the morning by the
cleaning man.”
“Ye’re not being a very helpful lad,” observed Gilly.
“An’ ye haven’t delivered a very decent solution to
our present predicament.”
“An’ it’s a little hard to find a respectable
solution when there’s not anything in the pockets.”
Cuddy pursed his lips and looked at the sky. “I’m wondering where our mum’s Book is. We could sorely use its good advice right
now.”
Gilly’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. “Now, we’re the poor of the poor. We finally made it to the bottom-most rung.”
“I heard a man tell once that the reaching of the
bottom-most rung is good news,” remarked Cuddy.
Gilly looked sourly at his brother.
“It’s good news because there’s no further down a
fellow can be dropping than the bottom-most rung.”
“It also means it’s an uphill climb all the way to
the top of the ladder again,” grumbled Gilly.
“Just a few hours ago we were in a prison,” chided Cuddy. “Now we’re free and complaining because of a
little rain coming our way. We really
should be rejoicing before our Lord for having sprung the locks on our prison
and the sending of Sean Connor to help us in the matter of our accusation. In truth, it’s a grand way things are working
for us.”
“We’ve still need of lodging for the night.”
“Let’s walk and perhaps we’ll find a place free and
dry. I’m wondering about Belle and
Shade. Do ye suppose they left them in
the care of the Maid’s Club stableman?
I’m that much worrying about their comfort and hoping they’re well fed
this evening.”
“I’m wishing I had the courage to go see.”
“There’s a difference between courage and imprudence,
Gilly.”
The boys had wandered toward the wharves and Cuddy
looked up to see the orphanage in front of them. “Gilly,” he said, “there’s the children
playing out today. And what’s this by
the fence? A little red-haired laddie
sitting by himself instead of playing with the others. And, laddie,” he asked, going nearer the
fence, “why aren’t ye playing today?”
“Because I’m hungry.”
“A big laddie
like you should be having a fine meat stew every day,” said Gilly concernedly.
“There’s never no meat here,” said the boy
sadly. “Cornmeal mush and sometimes
wheat mush, but not often that.”
Cuddy looked closer at the little fellow and said,
“Gilly, remember the camp where we watched the children play their hide and
search game, isn’t this the same spirited lad who found all the children one by
one, even the little brown haired lassie who was so wise in her hiding?”
Gilly bent down and stared steadily through the
fence, “I believe ’e’s the same one.” He
addressed the lad directly, “Are ye havin’ a wee friend, a little brown-haired
lassie, who came here on a wagon with you about a year ago?”
“Pedra? She got
fearsome cold this winter.”
“Cold?”
“She got real cold, Mister, and couldn’t get warm
anymore.”
McGillvery and McGillicuddy shivered unexpectedly, stood,
and surveyed the yard. “For sure, the
children aren’t very brisk, are they?
They’re moping around without a great deal of energy.”
“Laddie,” asked Gilly, bending eyelevel with the
child. “Are ye sure now ye’ve had no
meat? I’m knowing for certain the lady
of this house made a quick bargain for you to have meat delivered every day for
your feeding.”
“Nay, Sir.
Nary a bite of meat in that house.”
Gilly reached deep into his empty pockets. “There’s nothing emptier than a pocket when
there’s a need,” he said fretfully.
They walked a bit away from the fence. Cuddy said, “I’m wondering how the butcher’s
sleeping at night, Gilly?”
“With our money in his bank and the children’s meat
in his belly? Probably quite well,”
replied Gilly.
“We can put a stop to his liberal draws on our funds
today.”
“Aye, that we can.”
“That still doesn’t put food on the small children’s
plate.”
“We’ll figure that out as we go.”
The boys hurried to the money house where they had
deposited the year’s meat monies in trust for the orphanage, retrieved the
funds, and stopped the order for the weekly draws by the butcher.
Cuddy stopped by a sidewalk vendor and purchased a
small pail of stew. “For the little lad
by the fence,” he explained to Gilly as he walked ahead the two blocks to the
orphanage’s fencing. Gilly watched as
Cuddy handed the small bucket of nourishment over the tip of the iron fence.
When Cuddy returned, Gilly asked, “What are we to do
now?”
“We’ve money even if from an unwelcome source.”
“Before God we’re obligated to get it back to its
proper place for it was tithing monies,” worried Gilly.
“And the orphans are in sore need of it for their
nourishment.”
“But, this time, we’ll choose the butcher.”
“Aye,” agreed Cuddy.
“If we had our tinker’s wagon, we could begin making the stews again and
work to regain the monies.”
“Perhaps we don’t need something as elaborate as our
tinker’s wagon,” suggested Gilly.
“Perhaps all we need are the ingredients, a stew pot, a fire and some
wood. We could cook the stews at night
in the lane in the woods. If we made
small fire pits lined with coal at the edge of the university grounds, we could
keep the stews warm all day for the students.
A small tarp in the woods could serve as our shelter and a small tarp
over the pits just off campus would keep the stews clean and dry during the
fall rains. If we raised a large enough
tarp, the students could stand underneath its cover and stay dry while they ate
from their pails. It’s summer yet. Perhaps by fall we would have been able to
raise enough monies to free our tinker’s cart and the other three carts from
the impound yard.”
“Then we’d be back in business again.”
“I’m not knowing many lads who would go back into
business knowing they’re most likely to hang as thieves a few weeks later,” chided
Gilly.
“We have to live between now and then,” reasoned Cuddy. “Besides, we’re not the only ones to be
thinking about. We’re needin’ to leave a
little stew left over at the end of each day for takin’ to the orphanage to
feed the wee ones.”
“The old woman would sell it out front of their home
from a vendor’s cart before she’d let the orphans get the nourishment from it.”
“We’ll feed them through the fence,” said Cuddy
defiantly.
“It’s a plan,” admitted Gilly, smiling a bit.
“A plan the wee ones would be admiring, I’m sure.”
“Well, then, seems we need to buy a pot, some meat,
vegetables, and a tarp. Perhaps a bedroll?”
Cuddy grimaced, fingering the slight coin in his
pocket. “Perhaps we’d best see how
things go for the stews before depleting our funds for the luxuries.”
By late afternoon the brothers had tarps tied to
their backs, a hand on each side of the largest stew pot in
“We could be selling four pots of stew per day if we
had transport for them,” noted Gilly wistfully.
Cuddy counted the monies carefully. “We’re a long way from buying transport,” he
said.
“Could we rent transport until we could afford to
buy it?” asked Gilly.
“Possibly,” returned Cuddy and then brightened
some. “All we’re needin’ is a little,
one-wheeled cart large enough for packing four stew pots. Such a contraption would rent or buy
considerably cheaper than a wagon.”
“We could check the stables.”
“Or the markets.
Delivery boys often use such carts.”
After selling their stew, feeding the orphans, and
performing their daily appearance before Sean Connor, the boys began scouring
Then came the day when the pot of stew was sold,
except for the orphan’s share, by mid-morning.
Despite a rather long line of students waiting for their meal, Gilly
placed the lid over the bottom third of the stew and began to close their camp.
“Here now,” objected a large, brown-haired student
angrily. “I’m starving and the pot isn’t
quite empty. Place me a full pail of the
stew. I’ve stood in line this long and
I’ll not have you keeping me from my lunch.”
“The same for me,” said another.
“And me,” said another.
“We take the bottom third to the orphans every day,”
protested Cuddy
The young man calmed a bit and said, “I do not wish
to take food from orphans, but I am very hungry. Couldn’t you feed me and use my money to buy
something for the little ones? You know
how it is for the students,” he pleaded, “no time and always needing the food.”
Compassionately, McGillvery quickly removed the lid
from the large pot and said, “Yes, we do know how it is for students. Line up and we’ll feed you until the pot is
empty.”
After the last student had gone his way, Gilly
turned to look at his brother. “It’s not
even ten o’clock and the stew’s gone.
The rest of the students will be going without their lunches. They’re counting on us, Cuddy. They’ll not walk this way any longer for
their stews if they cannot rely on a full meal from us each and every day.”
“Then we’ll let sleep flee from our eyes and we’ll
work round the clock. We’ll purchase
four kettles today and we’ll carry them one by one to the woods and one by one
full to four coal pits and one by one to the orphanage every day. We will walk and we will work and we will
prosper despite everything, Gilly,” asserted Cuddy in his most heartening
manner.
“In all of this, our education has quite gone by the
wayside, hasn’t it?”
“It’s not over yet,” replied Cuddy firmly. “’Tis but a temporary trial we’re needin’ to
overcome.”
“And what are we to do about feedin’ the orphans
today?”
“We’ll go to the vendor down from the orphanage and
buy his whole cart of goods for the children.
He has the potatoes baked and pieces of spiced meat. It will feed the children well today and give
them a break from the sameness of the stew.
Then, we’ve need to buy our supplies and busy ourselves for the next morning’s
business.”
The vending man wheeled his cart to the orphanage
grounds and doled out hot wrapped potatoes and spicy meat to each child crowding
the fence. Gilly handed two pails of
creamy milk over the fence and watched in satisfaction as the children took
turns sipping from its frothy, rich goodness.
As always, the boys took turns maintaining a watchful eye on the
orphanage making sure they were well out of sight of all the windows and doors
to escape notice of the Madam.
Cuddy’s turn at watch provoked a sudden poke into
Gilly’s ribs. “Look there, who’s that
going in the back way of the orphanage?”
Gilly raised his head quickly to just glimpse a
familiar figure disappearing behind a small stand of trees near the back
door. “Why,” he said in surprise, “it looks
like Schaeffer.”
“What would he be doing at the orphanage?”
“Certainly not contributing to the wee ones’
welfare,” said Cuddy wryly.
Gilly knelt quickly by the side of the fence and
asked the red-haired lad, “Lad, turn and look at the man going by the back way
into the orphanage. Can ye tell me the
name of that young fellow?”
“I don’t know his name,” replied the boy around his
mouthful of potato. “I’ve seen him come
at night, but mostly after everyone is asleep.”
That night, Cuddy dug three more coal pits and Gilly
cut and peeled three times as many vegetables and their camp in the woods saw
four kettles bubbling through the night.
The brothers rose much earlier than usual and carried, one by one, four
kettles of stew to the coal pits, set the pits ablaze and stood stirring and
waiting for the students. At the end of
the day, Gilly carefully placed the lid on top of half a pot of stew for the
orphans.
“We can tie the pots filled with the pails and
scoops two each on our back for the trip to town,” he suggested.
“We’ve need of hurrying,” replied Cuddy. “We’ve still need to sign in with Connor,
wash the tins, feed the orphans, and purchase supplies for transporting for the
morrow.”
“The sacks of monies are beginning to grow,” noted
Gilly.
Cuddy smiled readily. “We’ve the blessing sure enough. We’re just needin’ a little cart to wheel our
blessings around in.”
Each boy took hold of the half kettle of stew and
headed for the village fountain with the rest of the kettles tied to their backs. When all their chores were done, they made
their way to the market for purchasing more food. The grocer looked at the kettles tied to
their backs and said, “You’ve need of a little one-wheeled cart and a boy to
push it for you.”
“Aye, that we are,” admitted Cuddy setting the
kettles to the floor.
“The orphans are let to work every day. There’s a fine red-headed lad who works for
me from time to time. Why don’t you hire
him and my cart for wheeling your supplies?”
The two Brothers exchanged glances. “I’m not knowin’ any orphan large enough to
push a cart loaded with four kettles of meat and vegetables for the distance we
go every day,” replied Gilly. “But we
certainly could use a one-wheeled cart.”
“They’re stronger than they look,” replied the
grocer, referring to the orphans.
“What is the daily charge for the lad and your
cart?” asked Cuddy.
“Two halfpenny per day with the understanding that
you’ll purchase this amount from my grocery every day.”
“Is the lad available today?”
“I’ll have the orphanage send him tomorrow. He’ll be waiting for you.”
“It seems the lad should be studying his letters
instead of working for his keep,” objected Gilly.
“Why?” asked
the man. “He’s an orphan. He’ll have little chance of living to be old
enough to marry. No sense wasting
reading and writing on him.”
On the tomorrow, the red-haired boy was waiting in
front of the grocer’s store. He waited
while Gilly and Cuddy loaded the cart with supplies, manfully endeavored to
lift the handles of the cart, and nearly spilled the contents to the
ground. The grocer ran to the front porch
to scold. Gilly held finger to lips and
shook his head at the grocer.
“Here, lad.
When the load is particularly cumbersome, ’tis best with these carts to
be pulling rather than pushing. You
never see a horse pushing, now do ye?
There’s a reason for that.
Pulling is easier. Watch me and
you’ll get the hang of it soon.” Gilly
backed between the handles of the cart and pawed the ground a bit with one foot
and neighed like a smart pony. The lad
smiled a little and watched as Gilly pulled the cart away from the grocer’s.
“There now,” he said. “You try it.”
The boy backed between the handles and with great
effort managed to move the cart away from the store and around the corner.
As soon as they were out of sight of the grocer,
Gilly said, “There now. That’s quite
enough. We were really not needing a boy
to pull our cart. I think I saved a pail
of stew somewhere here. Let’s see. Ahhh!
Two pails. Is there a boy here
who can eat two pails of stew?”
The boy nodded and McGillicuddy said, “Then up on
top of the load and you can ride and eat.”
“But I am to help you with the cart,” reminded the
boy.
“Don’t tell the grocer, son. We needed the cart, not a puller. But, we’ll have you help us peel the
vegetables and you’ll get a meal, too, before we bring the cart back this evening. That way you can tell him honestly you worked
for your pay.”
“Oh, we don’t get paid,” said the boy. “The orphanage gets paid. They use the monies to buy our food and our
clothing.”
Cuddy looked at the shoeless boy beside him and the
raggedy trousers nearly falling from too thin hips. “Do all the children work? Or is it just you, for your manly attitude?”
“Nay, not just me.
All the children work if they can walk.
The girls do the sewing and washing and mending for the ladies in town
and the boys do milking, shoveling, carrying, and errands for the shops in town.”
“And what are ye doing on the Sabbath?”
“We work the seven days a week,” said the boy.
“The townspeople are people working you on the
Sabbath, too?” asked Gilly sharply.
“The larger houses need cooking, cleaning, and
carrying done for their Sabbath dinners.”
“Right now,” replied Gilly firmly, “it’s time for your dinner. Up you go,” he said and hoisted the young lad
to the top of the loaded cart.
That evening Gilly stayed to prepare the next day’s
food while Cuddy wheeled the cart back to town with the young fellow riding,
stopping just around the corner from the grocery to allow the boy to wheel the
cart alone to the store.
“We’ll be seein’ you tomorrow,” he waved.
“Will there be stew tomorrow?” asked the boy.
“Two pails full,” promised Cuddy.
He fell into a brisk walk home soon catching and
passing another lone walker in the darkness.
“McGillicuddy!” called the man after him.
Recognizing the voice Cuddy turned, laughed, and said, “I
should have looked closer at the man I was out-walking. How are ye, Sean Connor?”
“I’m puzzling over you,” he said mildly. “Walking and puzzling this evening over two
brothers.”
“How so?” asked Cuddy in surprise while slowing his walk
to fall into step with the young lawyer.
“I have had word that you are back in business and
prospering again. A friend of mine says
he buys his noon meal from you every day.
I’m wondering how two fellows with no worldly resources have managed to
begin anew in business and to increase that business into a going enterprise
that will soon rival that which they lost just a bare few weeks ago.”
Cuddy stopped along the road, put a gentle hand on Sean’s
arm, and asked sincerely, “Do ye truly yearn to know the secret, Sean?”
“Yes,” he replied earnestly, “I truly, deeply desire to
know the secret.”
“Then, here it is—the absolute bold truth with none held
back.” McGillicuddy took a deep breath
and said, “All the gold and silver in the world belong to the Father. A fellow has to realize that fact first and
then he’s got to ask himself how the Father may be sharing a little of His
unlimited supply with a common, ordinary fellow. Then, making friends with the Father just
naturally leads to a prospering and well-being of everything a fellow touches. It’s just that simple, Sean.”
“But if that is true, why weren’t you and your brother in
a more prosperous condition when I first met you?”
“Well, we weren’t entirely understanding the way of it
then,” replied Cuddy. “We had just got
onto the secret and hadn’t really had a chance to see how well it worked until
we got to
“Do you know what I know?” asked Sean.
“What do you know?”
“When I was walking along this road, before you caught
me, I was reflecting that if it were not for the pending court case, in a short
time, you and your brother would somehow manage to regain all your wagons and
there would never be a ceiling on your achievements.”
“Aye,” affirmed Cuddy.
“That’s the truth of it for sure.
The Father makes every little thing work out for a fellow’s good. And don’t be worrying about the court case,
either. It will work out just that
well.”
“Well, actually,” hesitated Sean with a small downturn at
the corners of his mouth, “I was coming to see you both this evening. The case isn’t working out as well as I had
hoped. I have not had the time or the
funds to pursue some of the questions I have about Schaeffer. The date has been set for your court
appearance—sooner than I expected—next Friday, but I have not gathered anything
substantial enough to properly defend you against Schaeffer’s charges.”
“You’re thinking we’re to be found guilty and hang?”
“Some persons would jump bail and flee to
“But we’re innocent and in no need of running like a
guilty man,” stated Cuddy firmly.
“I feel you are innocent,” returned Connor. “But it’s not feelings, my friend, that free
the accused.”
“Aye,” agreed Cuddy.
“My brother and I understand the way of it. We’re not the fools to think that a sweet
smile will keep one out of prison. Well,
then,” he shook his head sadly, “I’m thanking ye for making the trip to tell us
the facts of the matter. You could have
let us find them out in front of the court.
Ye’ve showed yourself a good friend tonight.” He looked Sean squarely in the eye and held
out a hand in thanks.
Sean returned the offer with a warm, firm handshake and
said, “I wish I had softer words to bring you.
Good luck and may your God, who prospers your hand, help you both.”
Cuddy continued the last leg of his journey thinking that
one must never put their trust in the help of another. “It’s only the Lord, not encumbered with the
circumstances of man, who can truly help an honest fellow. And it’s You,” he said earnestly, while
looking toward the heavens, “it’s You I’m putting all my trust in this day and
the day after that. You know, Father,
we’re good lads and the orphans and the students are depending on us. It would be a shame for two men of your good
acquaintance to perish off the earth when they’re so willing to do good for others. There’s plenty others living who are not as
generous hearted as we be. Seems You
could be preserving us just a little longer, if not for our sakes, then for the
sakes of all those needin’ your care through our willing and generous hands.”
It was with a tired and weary heart that Cuddy walked
into the welcoming smells of onion and garlic as it mixed with cabbage,
potatoes, carrots, barley, and boiling mutton in their camp in the woods.
“There’s nothing more we can be doing,” responded Gilly
after hearing Cuddy’s rendition of the conversation between himself and Connor. “I’m knowing ye’re concerned, Cuddy; but, in
truth, it’s in the Lord’s hands now.”
“In the face of hanging, I’m thinking we need to put a
little more effort into preserving our lives,” pointedly retorted Cuddy.
“Well,” suggested Gilly, “if ye’re well bound to meddle
in God’s plan, Connor’s idea of emigrating to
Relief at the respite his brother offered caused Cuddy to
heave a deeply thankful sigh. “We could
be leaving this evening,” he hurriedly agreed.
“There’s universities and orphanages all over the world that could be
served just as well as those in
“But,” hesitated Gilly, “if we leave, I’ll always be
remembering the red-headed lad and wondering if he made it through the next
winter. It would be different if we
weren’t personally knowing the people who are depending on us; but, our
charity’s got a face, Cuddy, and those faces will never fade away from our
memories as long as we’re alive.”
“If it’s reliability ye’re so worried about, let me be
reminding you that if we’re hanged, we’re going to be the most unreliable men
ever to have lived through all time—irresponsible to ourselves, untrustworthy
to the Lord, and undependable to orphans and students all over the world who
could have been helped by our good hearts.”
Gilly chuckled mirthlessly, “Aye, that’s a mouthful of
truth.” He added quite mournfully, “I’m wishin’
we had our mum’s Book to help us with its good advice through this present
dilemma.”
“Aye, it would help a great deal in this instance to know
whether we should be jumping ship or staying with the captain of our own boat.”
“I’m not wantin’ to jump ship, Cuddy.”
Cuddy rolled eyes of despair toward his brother. “Here’s a time when two heads may not have
been better than one.”
Gilly waited for Cuddy’s compliance.
Without looking at his brother, Cuddy finally
shrugged his shoulders and said, “Nay, me neither. I’m supposin’ it’s time we were speaking what
we really do want so there’s no mistaking it on the part of the Lord.”
“Then, you start first with the words.”
“I’m wantin’ the clearance of our name and the power
to change all things pertaining to the orphanage for giving the little children
a chance at health and education.”
“And, were ye forgettin’ why we came to this county
in the first place?”
“Nay, I wasn’t.
I should have added that we be given enough life to continue seeking the
wisdom,” answered Cuddy.
“Aye, we’ve still need to get our education
finished. It’s why we came—at the urging
of our Lord.”
Cuddy turned to Gilly and suddenly grinned, “It just
occurred to me that the Lord has brought us all this way. It wouldn’t be like Him to drop us to the
ground like rotten apples from a tree, would it? I mean, He brought the Wandering people out
of slavery through all trials and fearsome circumstances. When they were needin’ water, He did not let
them dry out from thirst in the desert, did He?
He hadn’t carried them that far without planning on finishing His
work. We’ve been through some remarkable
circumstances, Gilly, and it doesn’t make sense that the Lord wouldn’t bring to
a good conclusion our affairs. We’ve
done no real wrong and we’ve maintained a position of loving kindness before
all men. We’ve relied on Him thus far
and, thus far, He’s helped us. Men might
let us down at this point in time, but the Father never would do so.”
“This is like a little test, a small proving ground, to
see what two good fellows will do, isn’t it?
I’m betting He’s listening right now to our words, to see what’s in our
hearts and minds.”
“I’m thinking we said all the right things, Gilly. He shouldn’t have been too offended at our
words.”
“There’s one more thing needin’ to be said,”
insisted Gilly.
Cuddy grinned spontaneously and strongly stated with
enormous courage, “It seems we’ve a great deal unfinished business to do here.”
“That’s it,” beamed Gilly. “The Father has many inscrutable ways out of
misfortunes.”
“Aye, and I’m remembering that most of the Father’s
men lived as long as they cared to live.
Are ye still caring to live, Brother?”
“That I am.”
“Well, then, what can we be doing to help ourselves
between now and Friday?”
Gilly threw
his hands helplessly in the air and tensely hunched his back. “Pray.
There’s more value in prayer than in being a canny man. We truly believe in a force above and beyond our
power…a terrible force…but, mostly a benevolent force—a force more than willing
to prosper and benefit men in all their tribulations…a force willing to show
the rainbow after the storm…a force willing to recompense for badness and help
in the face of sadness…We’ve always believed that tapping into that force is
the only mainstay for a good man…an anchor during all the vicissitudes that
life brings. If that force be with us, Cuddy,
who can be against us? And if we align
ourselves with the helping part of that force then, we’ve every right to
believe, to expect, to hope for a measure of all things good while we breathe
and live in this sphere…so I’m all for being the positive fellow and believing
that what is happening to us now is a type of processing…a type of education in
itself…a type of burning off the dross to get at the real men that we are or
that we could be…and if we’re not willing to be burned and suffer the refining
process then we can stay as we are…worthless metal mixed with a lot of
impurities from the ground…or we can become something beautiful and useful and
quite good…life is like a refining furnace and a fellow’s got to go through the
fire to get at the real thing—the important things…If we fail now, it will be
like a metal that the fire proved dross and gross and we’ll be tossed upon the
refuse heap with all the rest… but if we bear up and bear down, we’ll be proved
fine, true, and worthful—and that is what we’re here for isn’t it? To find our worth.”
The boys spent that night in diligent request for
their souls while the morning stars disappeared one by one into the full break
of day.
Chapter 14
Open Paths
All four of McGillvery and McGillicuddy’s kettles were
sitting warming in the coal pits before the Rector entered his building at 6:05
AM. Students had lined for their
breakfast meal. McGillicuddy and
McGillvery were filling the students’ metal pails as quickly as they could when
a commotion at the back of the lines caused the front of the lines to part.
The red-haired orphan, hair wet from physical
exertion, stood between the handles of the one-wheeled grocer’s cart which was piled
high with daily supplies. He sat the
cart down and said, “I couldn’t wait for you to come this evening because I’ve
got news for you. I know who that man is
that you were asking about the other day.”
“Here, laddie,” remonstrated Cuddy in surprise at
seeing the young fellow so early in the morning. “What a manful job ye’ve just
accomplished!” He pushed the boy’s wet
hair back from a freckled forehead and said, “Let’s sit that cart out of the
way and get you started on a nourishing pail of morning stew. After we’re done feedin’ the students, we’ll unpack
the cart.”
When the last student had been served and fed, the
brothers walked to the cart while marveling at the lad’s ability to have
brought it from town alone.
“Laddie, ’tis not good for such a young one to be
pulling such loads as these.”
“’Twas lighter without the stewpot and the pails,”
he replied modestly. “I was thinking
perhaps you’d run out of your stew and was needing to make a new batch for the
afternoon.”
Gilly smiled, “You’ll make a fine businessman
someday soon.” He picked an empty stew pail from their supplies and handed
it to the lad. “I’m thinkin’ a boy like
you could eat three pails of our stew without half trying after such a
masterful piece of work.”
The boy nodded eagerly as Gilly filled the metal tin.
“So,” asked Cuddy, sitting at the edge of the loaded
cart, “who is the young man we were asking about yesterday?”
“He’s the Madam’s son,” said the child.
“The Madam’s son?” repeated Cuddy, without
comprehending.
“The lady who puts us out to work and furnishes our
clothing and our meals.”
“The woman who manages the orphanage?”
“Aye, that one,” nodded the boy.
“And, the young man is her son? Are ye sure of that now?”
“Aye, I watched him hug her and call her his mum and
I saw something else, too.”
“What was it ye saw?”
“I saw her hand him a bag of monies.”
Gilly passed a second pail of stew to the boy. “Show me how large the bag of monies was, Son,”
he said.
The boy made a round circle with his hands.
“Whooeeee, even filled with the tiniest coin that is
a goodly sum,” said Cuddy in great surprise.
“Wherever would the lady be getting that kind of
money?”
“Well, we know where she was getting some of it,”
replied Cuddy, nodding significantly toward the meat packages in the cart.
“And what’s happening here so that Schaeffer is
living at Maid’s Club with the fine clothing and the best of the blooded lads
while his mum is living in the orphanage stealing for his keep?”
The two Brothers looked at each other with raised
brows.
Gilly said, “I’m not seeing how three orphanages
full of children, working around the clock in
“Aye, there’s certainly not enough orphans here,
even working them the seven days a week, to support his way of life.”
“So, if a young fellow wishin’ to climb to a better
place in life had a Mother who couldn’t steal enough to keep him well….”
“It might encourage him to look for funding on his
own,” finished Cuddy.
“Which well explains the missing funds.”
“And why we were accused.”
“One finger pointing and three fingers pointing back
at the accuser,” reminded Gilly.
“Dear Mum and her wise wisdom,” grinned Cuddy.
“Well, lad,” said Gilly, “you’ve perhaps saved two
men’s lives. What are we going to do
with such a helpful lad as you?” He
raised eyebrows in Cuddy’s direction.
“Something grand if we can find ourselves in an un-accused
situation,” grinned Cuddy.
“I’ll unload the cart in the woods, Cuddy,” hurried Gilly. “After the noon meal, we can be giving the
lad a ride to town and be about seein’ Sean Connor. He may be havin’ a suggestion on the best way
to use this piece of information.”
“We’ve only two days left before our trial,” objected
Cuddy. “Perhaps we’d best not be serving
the meal and be about our business.”
“Our business is our responsibility, Cuddy!”
“Our lives are our responsibility, too, Gilly!”
“I could serve the meal today,” offered the little lad
quietly.
Both brothers turned surprised eyes toward the young boy.
“I could!” he defended himself. “A boy who could pull the wagon all the way
from the village could dish a few bowls of stew to a few students!”
McGillvery laughed.
“I’m supposin’ that is a much
easier job. Okay, lad. Look right sharp after the money the students
hand you and we’ll share the coin with you when we come back.”
“We’re needin’ to move, Gilly,” urged Cuddy as he
retrieved his jacket from the pile of firewood behind the simmering kettles.
“Aye, I’m well understanding the grimness of the
situation,” he agreed while positioning himself between the two handles of the
cart so it could be pulled back to its rightful place at the grocer’s.
By two o’clock in the afternoon, the Brothers were
sitting in Connor’s office sharing their newfound knowledge about Schaeffer’s
background.
“It’s an interesting piece of information,” he
acknowledged quietly, “but it does not prove anything.”
Gilly and Cuddy looked at Connor in surprise. “But, it’s giving a motive, man! Can’t ye see that for yerself?”
“Not if his mother is providing his funds.”
Gilly snorted. “I’m
not thinking that keepin’ Schaeffer in his clothes alone could be paid for on
the backs of a hundred working orphans, let alone on the backs of the pitiful
passel of wee ones such as that woman has charge of. The man’s hobnobbing with the rich of the
land as if he’s one of them. It would
take a powerful boost of funds to keep that charade going for long.”
“It’s supposition,” said Connor. “You need evidence.”
Gilly and Cuddy stood at the same time. “How can we get evidence at this late
date? You’ve given us a day before trial! We’ve given you substantial information,
man! Enough to cause any fair minded
person to doubt that we’re the only ones who could be at fault!”
Connor held his palms upward and shrugged his
shoulders, “I’m sorry. I truly am. But you must have proof that Schaeffer is
indeed the one who stole the funds in order to clear your name.”
“But, we’ve been accused on the fact that we’ve
prospered in a short, unnatural amount of time…it looks the same argument
except different sides of the coin,” argued Cuddy.
“First accused and not poor like the majority of
men…sorry, those two things alone make a case against you. Schaeffer would stand second accused and a
poor man.”
The brothers walked through the front door and stood
on the street with hands in their pockets.
“The pockets are jingling, unlike a few weeks ago when we
were standing in this same spot,” noted Cuddy, looking for something better to
say than he felt inside.
“That’s something to be thankful for,” admitted Gilly.
“Now that we’ve counted our blessings, where do we go
now?”
“I would like to face down the old woman at the
orphanage.”
“Not the wisest choice at present.”
“We need more help.”
“There’s none here to help us.”
“Then we’re needin’ help beyond here.”
“We’ve asked and pleaded already.”
“Then we’re needin’ to ask and plead again.”
“Then we’ll walk and ask and plead in our hearts.”
So diligently were the brothers involved in their
pleading thoughts that they did not notice the carriage barreling along their
thoroughfare until the horses were rearing in their faces in an effort to avoid
severely mangling and trampling them.
The driver angrily shouted, “Are you daft walking in
the middle of the street?” He was
climbing down and reaching toward the door of the carriage. “Are you all right, Sir?”
An elderly gentleman stepped from the carriage,
straightening his hat and coat. “Are the
horses all right?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.
I’m sure they’re quite well.”
“And what is the cause of sudden spill? Is there anyone else injured?”
The carriage driver waved toward McGillvery and
McGillicuddy. “Just some daft lads not
watching their way on the road.”
The gentleman looked reprovingly toward McGillvery
and McGillicuddy. “So, the university
doesn’t teach its young men to walk properly to the side of main
thoroughfares?”
“Mr. McAllistair, Sir,” fumbled McGillvery, “we’re
sorry for the near spill of your belongings. We were praying over our
misfortunes.”
The elderly gentleman pressed his lips firmly
together. “My son prays over his
misfortunes too, but they are all of his own making. So, are your present distresses caused by
women…drink…or lack of disciplined actions in other arenas?”
“None of those, Sir.
We’re God-fearing lads.”
“God-fearing lads have rare troubles,” observed the
senior McAllistair.
“These troubles involve more than just we two,” said
McGillvery. “They’re involving the
orphans of
The gentleman stiffened noticeably. “The McAllistair name, as carried by me, is a
spotless name before God and man. What
smirch is being spread over my reputation?”
“Sir,” interrupted McGillicuddy, “if we may ride
along with you for a short distance, we will tell you the story.”
Lord McAllistair motioned the brothers to enter the
carriage. As soon as it was on its way,
McGillvery began telling their tale of false accusation, arrest, prison, their
findings about the orphanage and Schaeffer, Connor’s response, and their
desperate prayer for help. “It was what
we were doing when the carriage nearly upset—praying diligently to the Father
for help in this most grievous situation.”
The elder McAllistair looked sternly from under the
brim of a stiff dress hat and said, “My driver will place you at the university
so you may go about your cooking business.
I am to see Judge Rothsmer this evening.
I’ll have a word with him about the matter.”
The next day, while serving stew, McGillvery and
McGillicuddy were handed a short letter stating their trial had been
indefinitely postponed. Events flew
rapidly after that. Schaeffer’s mother
was taken from the orphanage, imprisoned, and replaced temporarily with a new
house Mother. Schaeffer was imprisoned
for theft of Maid’s Club funds and sentenced to hang. McGillvery and McGillicuddy were returned
their carts and goods. The butcher was
imprisoned for theft of orphanage funds.
Belle and Shade were returned to the brothers and the injunction keeping
them away from Maid’s Club premises was removed.
Several weeks later while serving their stews and
soda bread from the window in their tinker’s wagon to a long line of students, they
were pleased to see the next person in line was—Sean Connor. He had his pail in hand and was holding it
out for filling.
“The best Irish stew in
“Wonderful!” grinned Gilly.
“When is Schaeffer’s hanging scheduled?” asked
Cuddy.
“A week from now,” mumbled Sean over a large
mouthful of stew. “I had a most
interesting conversation with him the other day.”
“And how was that?”
“I asked him how he could take from orphans when
they had never had a bite of white cake.
Do you know how he answered?”
“Nay, how?”
“He said that the poor see white cake on the rich
man’s plate and they desire it so much that if given half a chance at it, they
will take it and glut themselves upon it until they are sick and vomit it on
the ground. He said poor people are poor
because they are not disciplined and greedy for all the wrong things. He said he deserved white cake because he was
disciplined enough to take the nourishing food first and to daintily dine on
the white cake so that it was neither wasted as vomit or sickness.”
“What did ye say to that?”
“I said it was not an unusual thing for those who’ve
never had their fill of the good things, like white cake, to be a bit greedy at
first, but that the desire would level off in time once their desire had been
met.”
“And what was he saying to that?”
“He said such ones would never have their fill of
the good things and it was just because of that reason that the poor can never
be helped.”
“’Tis a very harsh philosophy and not much based on
truth’s kindness.”
“Oh, he had one other thing to say. He said that out of the poor there are a few
who will rise like a
“Mmmm,” murmured Gilly, “he understood himself right
into the hangman’s noose. I’m wondering
whether his dear mum ever read the Book to him.
There’s a powerful lot of messages about helping the poor along their
way.”
Sean had finished his stew. “Who knows?
The orphans certainly were never encouraged in Sabbath keeping or
Sabbath teaching. Oh, and by the way,
some of the solicitors are wondering if you would be kind enough to deliver
lunches on the odd days of the week to their town offices. They’ve heard much about your stew and soda
bread and…most likely can pay a bit better price than the students.”
The brothers grinned and agreed it was possible to
feed more than just students while waving Connor on his way.
“Whoo-ee,” whistled Gilly. “I’m not sure what it is Schaeffer was
thinking he understood, Cuddy, but loving-kindness is a valuable quality before
the Lord and men. It’s the beginning of all
that is lasting and good. Even the
wealthy Job said that a rightfully minded man would give himself to taking care
of poor men in their distress and even the wisest man who ever lived, King
Solomon, thought a great deal about taking care of the downtrodden. It’s the start of wealth to have such a mind. I’m thinking the young fellow, Schaeffer,
missed the entire message behind the whole story of man and his purpose for
being on this earth.”
Cuddy laughed outright, “Gilly, fellows like
Schaeffer are up to thinking that men like Solomon are fools for giving any
time or thought to poor men and the dilemmas of the less fortunate. He failed to understand that the faithful taking
care of others is at the core of the fabric and the patterning that makes good
men good and wise kings better.”
The next morning the brothers were awakened early to
the sound of two horses thundering past their camp, whirling, stopping, and a
loud hallooing. They scrambled from
their beds to greet the hello.
“Father said you were camping here in the woods,” a
young man called. “I’m stopping to tell
you thank you. The horses are in fine
shape despite the several weeks lapse in their exercise.”
“Young McAllistair!” greeted McGillvery, climbing
down the back of the tinker’s cart. “So,
you have returned to university?”
“Yes—now that Schaeffer’s no longer able to
blackmail me. It was a lucky thing
meeting you on the road. I handed the
letter to just the right men, I’d say.
Oh, and by the way, a gift from the Rector. It’s my turn to deliver a letter to you.”
McGillvery reached to take the envelope.
“Well, I’m off.
The stallion doesn’t like to stay put long and I’ve still need to ride
the gelding. He doesn’t like being led
like this. Oh, I almost forgot. Father said when you graduate come to see
him. He is always looking for men with
high standards who are able to prosper a business the way you two did with your
wagon cooking.” He waved and as quick as
a thoroughbred can jump, turned and raced back toward the highway.
“Then the old gentleman didn’t lose his son after
all,” said McGillicuddy.
“Wise sons know wealth is kept for generations when
principles of right are strongly adhered to,” replied McGillvery. “The son knew as well as his father the
importance of right action. So, there is
more than one who went to bed last evening contented in heart.”
McGillicuddy had taken the letter from McGillvery
and opened it. “Gilly,” he
whispered. “Listen. Meritorious conduct and honorable action are
the basis upon which all long standing systems rest. Alls Hallows encourages the education of
students who have proved themselves to be of stalwart character and leaders in
ethical conduct. We therefore offer full
scholarships to McGillvery and McGillicuddy pursuant upon adequate academic
performance throughout the semesters in which they pursue their respective
disciplines.”
“Gilly,” whispered Cuddy, “how did it turn out so
well?”
“We looked in the right place for guidance,” replied
Gilly simply.
So began two tinkers’ education at university. They spent many years wrestling with the
personalities of many different professors, learned, grew wiser, and finally
came to understand broadly about many different kinds of men and the way things
are placed in the world. They spent
Sabbaths at the orphanage teaching the wee ones about the Father and telling
them stories that would enable the small ones to take life’s higher road
leading to life’s better blessings and happily watched many of the orphans
enter university and become good men serving
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