Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1905-03-04

sight of the satin checked silkheaded
girl had broken his old world to pieces.
For a time he contemplated the toes
of his boots. Then he drew himself
suddenly alert. A look of fixed deter
mination came into his face. and one
might have seen at a sudden that the
face was made for action, by whatever
accident inertness had taken it for its
own. He had washed his face that
morning and had shaved, so that its well
cut outline was unimpeded by a week S
growth of beard. His dark blue eyes,
his wholesome, rudy complexion, his
slightly curling dark hair, belonged to
handsome fellow. The fact was borne in
on him that even though the bit of look
ing glass which he at last unearthed was
by no means a flatterer. If he We're
like other men-he had been wont to
pride himself on not being like other men
--he would have a chance with Susy.
He spoke something out aloud as he
stood up, with a motion of his arms and
body as though he would shed the old
foul rags, something that was in the
nature of an oath that he would be an
other man than he had been, in order to
win Susy Whelan.
1t was Sunday. day he usually spent
in the fields, sucking his black pipe and
contemplating the. works of God in a
spirit not so unlike that of the hermits of
old. This Sunday--wonder of wonGerSl
after he had eaten his wretched meal,
he began to tidy up. In the kitchen
there was the accumulation of years of
rubbish-a perfect mountain of it. He
began to clear it away with feversh
energy, turning the contents almost bodi-
ly ont into the yard. When he had the
place comparatively clear he looked
around him.
Il 81 10 N Hal Iok4o. g., j.,
whitewash," he said; an sure, soap an
water hasn't been on it these thirty
years"
Suddenly he flung up his hat with Il
boyish shout Mary Maclean," he said.
II never thought o Mary Maclean, yet
she's the very woman for me-"
Mrs. Maclean was a somewhat dour
widow who had married north of Ire
land man and spent her married life in
Ulster. After she had been widowed she
returned to her native place with no
tons about thrift and cleanliness which
made her generally unpopular in Ballina-
capple. She was kinswoman of
Bernard Riordan, and had an odd liking
for him despite his ways, which she alb
horred She would defend him, indeed.
against herself, saying that he wasn't
any worse than others that had less rea-
son, and so on.
The day after that fateful Sunday
Bernard interviewed Mrs. Maclean in
her spotless cottage, which he had been
used to feel a cold kind of habitation.
Now it was himself that was the blot on
the white floor, against the white walls.
with the little bright windows full of
musk and fuchsias and vinegar plants,
gay with pictures of saints and patriots.
Il don't know what you're doin' it
for, said Mary Maclean, austerely-she
would have scorned to ask-''but ! know
its time for it to be done, and I'm the
woman to help you.'
Bernard's farm was a lonely spot I'M
der the mountains, little visited. Day
after day Mrs. Maclean trudged there in
the early hours of the morning, return
ing late at night. She was a silent per
son and little likely to satisfy peoples
about her business, if ANYBODY
had manifested it. But, as a matter OF
fact, she came and went practically UNI
noticed
Ii it had got out in Ballinacapple that
Bernard Riordan was buying soap and
soda and serubbing brushes at the shop.
curiosity would have been all agog But
Mary managed that for him. The opin-
ion of Ballinacapple was that Mary nd
scrub the house from under her and the
face off herself one of these days, so
any eccentricities on her part were safe
ab pass unnoticed.
In fact, the real transformation Of the
place had been accomplished before one
day, an urchin rushed into the forge at
the crossroads just outside BallinacapplC
village with the news that Barney Rior-
dan was mending his gates; that his
house was new whitewashed and bits O.
ut the windows, the yard cleaned
up, and hape o rubbidge as big as
over there was burnin itself
away at safe distance from the house
The mans goin' to be married." said
the serious wag of the company.
He's in all his ould rags an tatters.
Just the same as ever" said the urchin.
i thought there was somethin' up wild
him, said the smith. HE does be terri
bic unsociable this while back.
when Barney Riordan is gettin' tidy"
said another, 1T must be the change BE-
fore death is on him."
At this very moment Mary Maclean
was drawing the hood of her cloak over
her white cap in Bernard Riordan's kitch-
en-. preparatory 10 going home. Her eve
roamed about it in justi6ablc pride. No
one could have recognized it for the same
place. 1t was whitewashed, the floor of
red tiles was ochred over. the crate had
been polished up. the windows shone. In
was not i'll furnished, either. The rub
blsh had yielded up some unexpected
treasures. 1t was the same all over the
house. The good furniture in which Bar
ney's mother had taken pride had
emerged unframed from its disguise of
dirt. The place had become Il quite pre-
sentable farmhouse.
I'm obliged to you, Mary" said Ber-
nard. with awkward gratitude.
you came to the right woman" replied
Mrs. Maclean. Il didn't forget the good
turn your mother did me long ago. and
like these shuts III Ballinacapple. And
nov, Barney Riordan"-she fixed COM
polling eye upon him-''the least you can
10 is to tell me who is the girl
Bernard stammered. tried hard TO deny
finally yielded to the compelling eye and