“Thank the Good Man Above I’ve seen the last av the Binnie gang,” said Judy. “I heard her groaning to you on the stairs. It’s bad luck to mate on the stairs as the mouse said whin the cat caught him half way down, but the luck’ll be on her. She’s been talking av funerals be way av cheering me up. ‘Whin me father died,’ sez she, ‘he had a wonderful funeral. The flowers were grand! And the crowds!’ Ye cud be seeing it was a great comfort to the fam’ly.”

“Are you feeling any worse, Judy?”

“I niver felt better in me life, darlint. I haven’t an ache or a pain. Wud ye be propping me up a bit? I’d like to have a look at the ould silver bush and the clouds having their fun wid the wind over it.”

“Can you guess who’s been here inquiring for you, Judy? Tillytuck, no less. He came all the way from the South Shore to ask after you.”

“Oh, oh, that was very affable av him,” said Judy in a gratified tone.

Judy’s bed had been moved so that she could see out of the window when propped up. Pat raised her on her pillows and she looked out with a relish on a scene that was for her full of memories. The owls were calling in the silver bush. The patient acres of the old farm were lying in the fitful light of a windy sunset. But the twilight shadows were falling peacefully over the sheltered kitchen garden where Long Alec was burning weeds. Tillytuck, who had asked Long Alec if he might have a few parsnips, was squatted down on his haunches, busily digging, while a stick of some kind which he had thrust into his pants pocket stuck up behind him with a grotesque resemblance to a forked tail.

Judy reached out and clutched Pat’s hand.

“‘Did ye iver see the divil

Wid his liddle wooden shovel

Digging pittaties in the garden

Wid his tail cocked up?’”

she quoted, laughing, and fell back on her pillows. Her kind loving eyes closed. Judy, who had laughed so bravely, gaily, gallantly all her life, had died laughing.

CHAPTER 52