"Arrah, now, that's a sinsible remark which I ixpicted ye to make, as Arty Devitt said whin he admitted he was the biggest fool in Cork. But there ain't a hotel in Beartown."

"Then we shall have to go back to the boat and either start down the river or bunk in as best we can."

"Nothing of the kind; supper is waiting and ye're expicted. The house has only one bed, which av coorse is fur me, while ye two will have to make shift in the adj'ining woodshed. Come on and I'll show ye."

"Be sensible for once in your life," said Alvin, "and explain matters."

"Isn't that what I'm doing?" asked Mike, as he turned about and the three walked toward the sleepy little town.

"I've made frinds wid the postmaster, which is a fine old lady with a swaat darter. She has spread supper for us three, and whin I told her we'd honor her by staying overnight, she was that pleased she danced the Highland Fling and kicked over a barrel of apples. And what do ye think, byes, after we'd talked awhile, we found we was relatives. What have ye to say to that?"

"It is impossible. What's her name?"

"Mrs. Friestone and her daughter is Nora. It was that name that set me wits to work. Ye see the leddy thinks--that is, after I suggisted the same--that one of her ancistors about the time St. Patrick was driving the snakes out of Ireland was living there, and immigrated to this country and he come over wid the ither sarpints."

"St. Patrick died fifteen hundred years ago," said Chester.

"Thin I 'spose he must be purty dead by this time, but that isn't aginst the fact of the father of Mrs. Friestone, two or three thousand ginerations back, paddling across the Atlantic and sittling in this part of Maine. I have raison to belave that one of me own ancisters was a second cousin to the owld gintleman and came wid him on the v'yage. The owld lady doesn't dispoot me, but is inclined to belave the same."

"But where do we come in?" asked Alvin.

"That was me chaif trouble in gitting ye folks straightened out. Av coorse, I made it clear to them that I owned a launch, which the same is called the _Deerfut_, and I had took ye out fur a sail--that I had left ye to thry to run the boat, in order to taich ye the same, and ye had broke down. I said ye were half dacent chaps, and if she would bear in mind that ye hadn't been under me training long, she would be able to git along wid ye. Nora said I must bring ye to the house, and ye should have slaaping accommodations and as much as folks of yer kind oughter ate. I reminded them that I had provided ye with plinty of pocket money and insthructed ye niver to accept favors widout paying for 'em. Thus the way has been opened for ye."

"So it would seem, if a tenth part of what you say is true," was the comment of Alvin.

The village, which I have thought best to call Beartown, straggles along both sides of the highway which runs the length of Westport island. It has a neat wooden church, a faded school house, which had been closed several weeks, it being vacation time, two stores, a blacksmith and a carpenter shop, but lacks a hotel, no one being enterprising enough to build such a structure with the meagre prospects he would have to face.

If now and then some visitor wished to stay overnight in the place it depended upon his success in finding lodgings with one of the citizens.

This could not always be done, but it is safe to say that Mike Murphy won the favor of so many with whom he came in contact that a half dozen homes would have been glad to take him in indefinitely. Strolling along the highway, his attention was caught by sight of a modest frame building, standing near the middle of the village with the sign in small letters "Post Office" over the front porch, which was crowded with samples of what were for sale at the store.

Entering the open door, he asked in his most suave manner if there was a letter for "Michael Murphy, lately from Tipperary." The thin old lady in spectacles behind the counter, at the front, pulled the half dozen missives from the pigeon hole over which the letter "M" showed and slowly inspected each. She gently shook her head:

"It doesn't seem to have arrived; probably it will come in the next mail."

Mike's genial face became the picture of disappointment.

"That's mighty qu'ar. The Duke promised he would write me two waaks ago from his castle and return the five pounds I loaned him. Ye can't thrust the n.o.bility."

"I am sorry," said the sympathetic postmistress, "but I don't see how I can help you. Have patience and all will come right."

"Don't think it's yersilf I'm blaming, though onraisoning folks are inclined that way. The matter of a little money doesn't consarn me, but it's the aboose of me confidence."

Just then a man came in to inquire for a letter, and the sweet looking old lady was obliged to withdraw her attention from the freckled face before her.

During this brief interview a girl not yet out of short dresses stood behind the counter, measuring out some calico for a woman in a scoop shovel-bonnet. The girl's face was as mirthful as Mike's, and her black eyes twinkled with mischief. She heard all that was said, and read the youth like a book. He looked more at her than at her mother, and could not help being pleased with the lively young lady. Never at loss for an excuse in such circ.u.mstances, he waited at the front of the store, sighing as if greatly depressed, until the woman customer paid her bill, accepted the roll and walked out. Then Mike, blushing so far as it was possible to do so, moved respectfully toward the smiling attraction.

"I lost me wheelbarrer in coming up from me launch; have ye anything of the kind ye would be willing to sell to a poor orphan?"

"Will one be all you want?" asked the miss. "We can furnish you with a dozen as well as a single barrow. How much would you like to pay?"

Mike was caught. He had taken a comprehensive survey of the display outside the store before entering, and was sure that only the simplest agricultural implements were on sale. Furthermore, he had less than a silver dollar in his pockets.

"I'll have to wait to consoolt me partners," he replied, while nature did her best to deepen the blush on his broad countenance. "Ye see it's them that has to do the work fur me, and it's only fair on me side to let them have something to say about the ch'ice of tools. What do ye think yersilf?"

"I think you haven't any wish to buy a wheelbarrow, that you haven't the money to pay for it, and I know we haven't one in the store--so I think further that there won't be any sale so far as wheelbarrows are concerned."

CHAPTER XI

AT THE POST OFFICE IN BEARTOWN

Although Mike Murphy rarely got the worst of it in a bout at repartee, he had the true sporting instinct and liked the winner because of his victory. It took a bright person to beat him, but it did happen now and then, and he enjoyed a clash of wits with one who proved his master, though in the long run the youth generally came out ahead.

When, therefore, the girl in the post office at Beartown snapped out the remark just printed, he was roused to admiration. He threw back his head and the store rang with his infectious laughter.

"Begorra! ye were too much for me that time. If ye'll not think me impudent, I beg the privilege of shaking hands wid ye."

The merry sprite, laughing almost as heartily as he, though with less noise, reached a dainty hand across the counter and he grasped it. From behind the rack at the front of the store, the gentle mother beamed with a smile. She had heard and understood it all.

"I am afraid, Nora, you were rude to the gentleman," she said in her silvery voice.

"Not a bit!" was the hearty response of Mike. "I got it that time where the chicken got the axe--which the same is in the neck. It was a fair hit and I desarved more, though no one could give it to me."

It may be said that this little incident fixed Mike in the favor of mother and daughter. It was hard to resist the rollicking good nature of the Irish youth, who was equally impressed by the gentle goodness of the mother and the sprightly wit of the daughter. He now called a halt with his nonsense and gave a true account of the situation. His two companions were the sons of wealthy parents and one of them owned a beautiful motor launch which broke down while descending the river from Wisca.s.set. He had left the two trying to tinker it in shape, but had doubts of their success. In case they failed, it would be very pleasing to them if they could get supper and lodging in Beartown. Would the good woman advise them where to apply?

She replied that she would be glad to meet their wants, though they would be disappointed with the poor meals and lodging, for she knew they must be accustomed to much better. This was the invitation for which Mike was angling and he promptly accepted, a.s.suring the woman that it was a fine piece of good fortune which more than repaid them for the disabling of their engine.

"They may repair it and go home," suggested Nora.

"That will make no difference, for I sha'n't return to them till night comes and then they'll have no ch'ice."

"They may not wait for you," said Nora.

"Little fear of their laving widout me, so nothing will be done till I arrive, as Brian O'Lynn said when he was walking forth to be hanged."

With no other purpose in mind than to force his friends to stay over night in the village, Mike Murphy loitered. When the mother and daughter were not engaged with customers he entertained them by his quaint remarks, which kept the smile on their faces. He had seated himself, on the invitation of Nora, in a chair at the rear of the store, where he was in no one's way and where he could make use of his eyes. Thus it came about that he observed several interesting facts.

Mrs. Friestone and Nora made up the whole force of the store, which did a considerable trade in groceries and articles such as a village community needs. Furthermore, the abundant and excellent stock showed that the owner was not only enterprising but understood her business. The other store in Beartown hardly rose to the dignity of a rival.

It may as well be said at this point that her husband, who had been dead six years, went through the whole war for the Union and was badly wounded several times. President Grant personally complimented Captain Friestone for his bravery in battle, and when he became President appointed him as postmaster at Beartown. He suffered so grievously from his old wounds that the small post office and his pension were all that saved him and his young wife from actual want. He took up storekeeping in a small way, gradually branching out until he had established a flourishing business, whereupon he did an almost unheard of thing. As soon as he knew his future was secure, he notified the government that he would no longer accept a pension and he stuck to the resolution.

The veteran was retained in office by the successors of President Grant until his death, when the appointment was given to his widow, not a member of the community asking for a change. The income was meagre, but the widow had become accustomed to the duties, having performed them during the last years of her husband's life, and she liked the work. The store paid so well that it more than met the wants of the two.

When the cheering thousands welcomed the soldiers returning from the war, a proud father held his little girl on his shoulder and she waved her hand joyously to the bronzed heroes some of whom were still little more than boys. One laughing soldier s.n.a.t.c.hed away the child and kissed her.

He was Captain Friestone and the girl was Bessie Elton. The acquaintance thus begun ripened until the time arrived for her to put on long dresses, and by and by she became the happy bride of the officer, and never a shadow darkened their hearthstone until Death called and took away the brave husband and father.

Mike noticed that a ma.s.sive safe stood behind the counter in a corner at the rear of the store. The ponderous door was open, for mother and daughter had frequent cause to use the repository. Within the steel structure all the stamps, government funds and daily cash receipts were deposited at the close of the day's business. The value of these was slight, but the safe contained a great deal more. While Nora was lighting the five kerosene lamps, suspended on brackets at favorable points in the store, a middle aged and somewhat corpulent man bustled in, nodded to the widow and handed her a large sealed envelope. Mike heard him say, "Twenty-five hundred," and she replied "Very well." It was evident that he had brought in that amount of money and left if for security with her.