No, not for him. He could not abide violence of any kind and avoided confrontations like the plague. His ambitions were to work hard with his uncle and to learn to be a builder. He didn’t just want to repair houses. He wanted to construct houses, even design them. He had the talent. He knew that.

He smiled inwardly and saw the house of his dreams hidden in the bright red flames. It was large and square, with three floors. When he built it one day, it would have tall windows, high ceilings and a fireplace in every room, even in the bedrooms. His feet were always cold and so he loved fires.

He glanced down at them now, encased in a pair of Dennis’s socks. They were warm wool socks that Mrs. O’Malley had given to him earlier. She was so good to him, faith and she was, a loving woman.

She dropped a spoon and bent to pick it up, turning to look at him as she did. A smile slid onto her face.

“Thanks for letting me stay here after dinner,” Blackie said.

“Ye always can and ye always do,” Martha retorted, a grin replacing the smile.

“I know.” He grinned back. It was a ritual.

She nodded and swung back to the bowl on the table next to the sink. She began to knead the dough, pushing her hands into it determinedly.

He watched her for a while, then asked with a puzzled frown, “What are ye making all that dough for?”

Without turning her head, she replied, “Rabbit pies. Two rabbit pies.”

“Are ye really?” He couldn’t help wondering where the rabbits had come from. He said, “Who caught the rabbits for ye, Mrs. Martha?”

He often called her that, because her first name on his lips made him feel she was family, which she was in his opinion. For all his life, in fact.

“Joe O’Donnell did me the big favor. Ye see he tries to help me when he can. He found ’em in a warren near the edge of yon woods. Trapped ’em and carried them over.”

Blackie nodded, then exclaimed, “I hope ye didn’t have to skin ’em!” He pulled a face.

She shook her head and smiled. “I know yer a bit … squeamish, lad. Though you won’t be when it’s yer next meal. But Joe saved me the job. He brought ’em last night, skinned ’em right here at this sink and wrapped the skins in an old piece of sacking, sure and he did. Then I washed ’em with salt and put ’em away in yon cold room.” As she spoke, she indicated the larder across the room.

“When will they be cooked? Are the pies for tonight?” He knew he sounded eager, but he was hungry again.