“Judy, where is Mrs. Puddleduck?”

“Safe back at the Bridge where she belongs. Sure and she wasn’t for staying long whin she saw me back. Oh, oh, she’ll be saying plinty besides her prayers tonight. I wint inty me pantry thinking I’d see fine things in the way av Sunday baking, what wid her domestic short course and all. But all I did be seeing was a cake looking like nothing on earth and a pie wid a lot of hen tracks on it. Tillytuck tells me he did be ating a pace av it and niver will his stomach be the same agin. Oh, oh, domestic science, sez I! I did be putting it in the pig’s pail and frying up a big batch av doughnuts.”

“Praise the sea but keep on land is a good proverb, symbolically speaking,” said Tillytuck. After which he ate nine doughnuts.

Everybody was shamelessly glad and showed it, much to Judy’s secret delight and relief. They shut out the rain and the cold wind. Never had the old kitchen held a more contented, more congenial bunch of people. Grief and loneliness had gone where old moons go and even King William looked jubilant in his never-ending passage of the Boyne. Outside it might be a dank and streaming November night but here was the eternal summer of the heart.

“Isn’t it nice to look out into a storm?” said Rae. “Listen to that wind roaring. I love it. Judy, I’m glad you’re not on the Atlantic.”

“I do be just where I want to be, Cuddles darlint, and faling rale high and hilarious. Sure and I do be good frinds wid Silver Bush agin. It’s been looking at me reproachful-like for a long time. I’m knowing now I cud niver be laving it. It’s got into the marrow av me. So here I am, wid enough fine clothes to do me for the rist av me life and all the fun av getting ready. Oh, oh, ’twill be a stirring tale…the story av how Judy Plum wint to Ireland and got back so quick she met hersilf going. And now we’ll begin planning a bit for Christmas.”

Judy crept in that night to see if the girls were warm…the darling, thoughtful old thing.

“You’re such a dependable old sport, Judy,” said a drowsy Pat, sitting up and hugging her. “It seems unbelievably lovely that you’re here…here…and not far away on the billow.”

Judy was not acquainted with Wilson Macdonald’s couplet,

“For this is wealth to know my foot’s returning

Is always music to a friend of mine,”

but she felt that she was a very rich woman with only one small cloud on her perfect joy.

“Patsy darlint, do ye think I ought to be giving thim back…the prisents, I mane?”