Itwould be hard to say who was more surprised by Sally's letter, the postman or Mrs. Mulvaney. Both stared doubtfully at the envelope, the postman appearing unwilling to leave the letter, while Mrs. Mulvaney was equally uncertain of her right to it. The children were out. When the postman was gone their mother put a stick of wood in the kitchen stove, poked the clothes in the boiler, glanced at the wash-tubs, then went in the Other Room.
"Well, I never!" she remarked, turning the envelope over and over before opening it. "I wonder what Mulvaney would think!"
Three times while Mrs. Mulvaney was reading the letter she opened and closed her mouth without uttering a sound. The fourth time she managed to say, "Well I never!"At last she returned to the wash-boiler and poked the clothes so vigorously it is a wonder she didn't punch holes through them. Next she made an attack on the wash-tub. She flipped, flapped, and jerked the clothes over the board, pounded on the soap, and worked with such energy Johnnie didn't dare enter the kitchen. He always peeped in the window before venturing further.
"She'd spank us," he murmured, running to warn his brothers and sisters to "keep back."
It was well that he did so. His mother was in no mood to be trifled with. In the shortest possible time the washing was finished and hung on the line.
"Now then," said Mrs. Mulvaney, going in the Other Room and searching under the bed for an old stocking which she dragged forth quickly, "we'll see."
"More in it than I thought," she went on, pouring the contents in her lap, then rapidly counting the money. "Eight tickets! It won't take long to find out what they'll cost. I'll go to the Grand Central Station and price them. Where's my good skirt?"
The garment was easily found. It was on the floor in the corner with soiled clothes and various other articles. Mrs. Mulvaney slipped it over her working-dress unmindful of apron strings sticking through the placket hole in the back.
"Now my bonnet," she continued. Mrs. Mulvaney owned a bonnet, but where to look for it was perplexing. She found it under the bed, then twisted her hair in a tighter knot before putting it on. Finding her shawl was a harder matter, until Mrs. Mulvaney recalled having placed it over the dishpan in which the bread was rising, or trying to rise.
"Now I'm ready; I wonder where the young ones are? Hannah, Hannah Mulvaney?" she called from the kitchen door, "step lively, you're all to come in this minute."
Obedience was a shining virtue in the Mulvaney family. The children came.
"Why, ma," protested Mike, "you ain't going to leave us, I hope."
By way of reply Mrs. Mulvaney jerked Mike through the doorway, knocking him against Johnnie with such force the littlefellow sat down in the dishpan containing the uncovered bread dough.
"Don't stir out of this house while I'm gone," commanded Mrs. Mulvaney, sailing away without looking behind, which was a fortunate thing for Johnnie. Before his mother's return he had scraped off most of the dough from his trousers, with the help of the twins.
"Kind o' sthicky, ain't it?" commented Stubbins, tasting of the dough. "Thay! I'd give a thent to know where ma went."
"Maybe she ain't never coming back," suggested Hannah, after a long silence.
"Yes she is; look alive, kids," shouted Chinky, "she's coming like the fire engine. Watch out!"
"I bet she's been after a policeman, and we'll all get took to jail," whispered Johnnie, looking for a place to hide and finding none.
When Mrs. Mulvaney returned she said nothing at first, and the children were too frightened by her behaviour to dare speak. They didn't know what to think as they watched their mother count eight green slips of paper which she afterward pinned insideher dress. The next astonishing performance was the writing of a postal card which the woman straightway mailed.
"Whath going to happen?" questioned Stubbins. No one knew.
"My thaketh!" was a later exclamation from Stubbins. "My thaketh alive! Here cometh the thecond-hand man with ma!"
Even his errand was a mystery to the seven, as before he was invited in, the children were turned out.
That night when Chinky carried the washing home, he told the customer that it was the last work his mother would ever do for her.
"Why?" demanded the woman.
"Can't prove it by me," was the reply, "I dunno no more about it'n you do."
The next morning the second-hand man called at eight, and carried away the stove, the wash-boiler, the tubs, Mrs. Mulvaney's bed and bureau, the few chairs, in fact everything that he could possibly sell. By this time the children were absolutely terrified.
"We're going to move!" announced their mother. "What's more, we're going to havea ride on the cars. You must all wash up and I'll tidy your hair. Then we'll get ready to start. We ain't got a trunk to pack things in, but we've got pa's satchel. Eight of us ought to carry what's left here in our hands."
"How'll we take all the clothes that was give to us Christmas?" asked Hannah.
"You'll wear 'em," was the reply. "You ain't got but three dresses to your name, and if you can't get 'em all on, you ain't good for much. Thin as you be, I don't know but you'll hold more clothes than just your own. We'll see."
Mrs. Mulvaney began on poor Stubbins. He was plump and given to stumbling anyway, but by the time his mother had squeezed him into two suits and three overcoats of various sizes, he could scarcely wiggle, nor could he bend his arms.
"I'll tie up a little bundle of stuff for you to carry in one hand," said Mrs. Mulvaney, "and you can take the clothes-stick in the other. It's too good to leave behind. Now don't you stir," she continued, "until the others are ready."
"Well, ma," grumbled Stubbins, "Icouldn't sthir if I wanted to. I sthick out all around ith like a pig. I thay! I'm too warm!"
Mike laughed at Stubbins, so Mrs. Mulvaney chose him for the next victim. He quickly felt and looked like his little brother.
"You can take the kerosene can in one hand, and the dishpan in the other," said Mrs. Mulvaney. Then Mike felt worse than Stubbins, but protest was useless. He had to carry the kerosene can and the old dishpan.
Johnnie looked too pleased, whereupon he was taken in hand,—"rigged out," as his mother said. "You can carry the wash-board," she went on, "it's almost as good as new; I don't care what the second-hand man had to say."
"Oh, ma," besought Johnnie, "let Chinky carry the wash-board, he's bigger. I might fall and break it."
Mrs. Mulvaney was so in the habit of spanking Johnnie she began as usual, before she thought how well padded he was.
"Thay, ma, you'll have to thlap him," advised Stubbins. "He ith only got hith fathe."
"Lucky for once," chuckled Mike. Even Mrs. Mulvaney laughed.
Illustration of Mrs. Mulvaney with the boys
In the meantime Hannah made clothes-racks of Nora and Dora. Fearing she might have to carry the rusty tin pails herself, she asked her mother what she wished to put in them for the twins to take.
"Provisions," was the reply, "you can pack up the bread and whatever's left in the cupboards. Get your own extra clothes onright lively now. You're to carry pa's picture. The frame ain't heavy and you know how to be careful."
"Maybe I better take the pails an' you carry the picture," objected Hannah. "I'm afraid I might spoil it. It's all I can do to manage my arms on 'count of so many sleeves."
"I'll take the picture," offered Chinky, trying to evade the mop, broom, clothes-line, pole, and clothes-pin basket his mother thrust upon him.
"You'll carry what I say," declared Mrs. Mulvaney, putting on all the garments she owned. Then she packed Mr. Mulvaney's old satchel so full the sides burst.
"I can tie it up," said she, tearing a strip from a ragged blanket for the purpose. "I'll have to carry pa's satchel and make these quilts and things into a bundle. There now! there are two of your pa's old coats. Who'll take 'em? Can't carry 'em, you say, got your hands full? I'll fix it, Chinky, you can wear one and Hannah can wear the other. Hold still and I'll button them around you.They're just short enough so they won't drag."
"Look here, ma?" offered Chinky, "you roll 'em up in a tight bundle and I guess I can carry 'em after all."
"I thought you could manage," agreed Mrs. Mulvaney. "You see we're going where I may get some time to do fancy work, and I'm thinking of making rugs of pa's old coats to remember him by."
"Oh, ma, look at us!" wailed Hannah when the procession was ready to start. "Have we got to go looking like this?"
"I don't see no other way and you needn't feel bad, Hannah, because we don't look stylish. You may be a school teacher some day," predicted her mother. "Fact is we're all going to have a chance to be folks, and if I was you young ones, I'd try and forget what we look like now, and think hard about how fine we'll look next time we go on the cars with our trunks and umbrells and land knows what; and when we all get set down in the Grand Central Station to wait for the cars, I'll tell you where we're going and all about it."
"Thaketh alive, ma! it don't theem ath if I could ever get there with tho many thingth on, and thay! but you look—"
"You start your boots," interrupted the mother of Stubbins, "or you'll feel worse'n you look."