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Penelope's Irish Experiences-Part28_Kate Douglas Wiggin(1856-1923)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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difficulty in making friends with her. Her mother owned the

cottage, and rented it every season to a Belfast lady, who was



coming in a week to take possession, as usual. The American flag

had been floating in honour of her mother's brother, who had come



over from Milwaukee to make them a little visit, and had just left

that afternoon to sail from Liverpool. The rest of the family



lived, during the three summer months, in a smaller house down the

road; but she herself always stayed at the cottage, to 'mind' the



Belfast lady's children.

When I looked at the pink floor of the kitchen and the view from the



windows, I would have given anything in the world to outbid, yes,

even to obliterate the Belfast lady; but this, unfortunately, was



not only illegal and immoral, but it was impossible. So, calling

the mother in from the stables, I succeeded, after fifteen minutes'



persuasion, in getting permission to occupy the house for one week,

beginning with the next morning, and returned in triumph to my weary



constituents, who thought it an insane idea.

"Of course it is," I responded cheerfully; "that is why it is going



to be so altogethercharming. Don't be envious; I will find

something mad for you to do, too. One of us is always submitting to



the will of the majority; now let us be as individually silly as we

like for a week, and then take a long farewell of freakishness and



freedom. Let the third volume die in lurid splendour, since there

is never to be a fourth."



"There is still Wales," suggested Francesca.

"Too small, Fanny dear, and we could never pronounce the names.



Besides, what sort of adventures would be possible to three--I mean,

of course, two--persons tied down by marital responsibilities and



family cares? Is it the sunset or the reflection of the pink house

that is shining on your pink face, Salemina?"



"I am extremely warm," she replied haughtily.

"I don't wonder; sitting on the damp grass under a hedge is so



stimulating to the circulation!" observed 'young Miss Fan.'

Chapter XXVII. The three chatelaines of Devorgilla.



'Have you been at Devorgilla,

Have you seen, at Devorgilla,



Beauty's train trip o'er the plain,-

The lovely maids of Devorgilla?'



Adapted from Edward Lysaght.

The next morning the Old Hall dropped like a ripe rowan berry into



our very laps. The landlord of the Shamrock Inn directed us

thither, and within the hour it belonged to us for the rest of the



summer. Miss Peabody, inclined to be severe with me for my

desertion, took up her residence at once. It had never been rented



before; but Miss Llewellyn-Joyce, the owner, had suddenly determined

to visit her sister in London, and was glad to find appreciative and



careful tenants. She was taking her own maid with her, and thus

only one servant remained, to be rented with the premises, as is



frequently the Irish fashion. The Old Hall has not always been

managed thus economically, it is easy to see, and Miss Llewellyn-



Joyce speaks with the utmostcandour of her poverty, as indeed the

ruined Irish gentry always do. I well remember taking tea with a



family in West Clare where in default of a spoon the old squire

stirred his cup with the poker, a proceedingapparently so usual



that he never thought of apologising for it as an oddity.

The Hall has a lodge, which is a sort of miniature Round Tower, at



the entrance gate, and we see nothing for it but to import a brass-

buttoned boy from the nearest metropolis, where we must also send



for a second maid.

"That'll do when you get him," objected Benella, "though boys need a



lot of overseeing; but as nobody can get in or come out o' that gate

without help, I shall have to go to the lodge every day now, and set



down there with my sewin' from four to six in the afternoon, or

whenever the callin' hours is. When I engaged with you, it wasn't



for any particular kind of work; it was to make myself useful. I've

been errand-boy and courier, golf-caddie and footman, beau, cook,



land agent, and mother to you all, and I guess I can be a lodge-

keeper as well as not."



Francesca had her choice of residing either with Salemina or with

me, during our week of separation, and drove in my company to



Rosaleen Cottage, to make up her mind. While she was standing at my




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