“Judy, this is the third time we’ve kept vigil in this old kitchen after we’ve seen a bride drive away. Do you remember Aunt Hazel’s…and Winnie’s?…how we sat here and you told me stories to cheer me up? I don’t want stories tonight, Judy. I just want to be quiet…and have you baby me a bit. I’m…tired.”

When Pat had risen and gone to the porch door to let in a pleading Popka Judy sighed and whispered to herself,

“Oh, oh, I’m thinking all me stories do be told. Sure and I’m nothing but a guttering candle now.” But she did not let Pat hear her. And before long, when she had been thinking of Mrs. Binnie tearing in red-faced from the funeral, she began to chuckle.

“What is it, Judy?”

“Oh, oh, I didn’t mane to be laughing, Patsy, but it did be just coming inty me head what they did be telling once av ould Sam Cobbledick. He was fond av a drop whin he was younger but what wid his wife watching him he niver got much av a chanct to one. He was rale sick wid the flu one time and the doctor lift a liddle whiskey in a bottle for him. Mrs. Cobbledick thought it was only midicine and wint out to church. Thin in drops a neighbor man, ould Lem Morrison, and he brings a liddle drop in a bottle, too, sly-like. But ould Sam looks at it in dape disappointment. ‘There isn’t enough to make us both drunk,’ sez he. ‘Let’s put it together and make one av us drunk,’ sez he. ‘And let’s draw lots to see which’ll it be,’ sez he. So the lot fell to ould Sam. But ye did be saying ye weren’t wanting inny stories tonight.”

“I want to hear this one. What happened to old Sam, Judy?”

“Oh, oh, whin Sarah Cobbledick came home her sick man was dancing and singing in the middle av the floor and niver a bit av flu left in him. She didn’t be guessing inny av the truth but she tould the doctor his midicines were entirely too strong for a sick man, aven if it cured him that quick. And now, Patsy, darlint, we’ll be having a liddle bite. I was noticing ye didn’t be ating much supper.”