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