Page 7 of The Irish Gypsy
He stiffened. “That’s impossible! My sisteris being married in a few weeks. It would be most improper.”
“I see. Well, never mind; I have some dressbills that are outrageous.”
“You always do, to say nothing of the onesyou run up at the jewelers.”
She knew he was tiring of her; there wasnothing she could do about it.
Chapter 3
When the immigrants disembarked at theLiverpool docks they were a sorry sight. The women clutchedpathetic children and the men carried their meager belongings withan air of dogged resignation. Their faces were blank with tiredhunger, but in every breast was the hope that things would at lastget better. They were herded like sheep onto wagons, which O’Reillyhad hired especially for their transportation to Bolton. Kittystared about her, taking in every detail of the new country she hadcome to. It wasn’t anything like she had imagined. She had picturedbig houses, beautifully dressed ladies in carriages, magnificentshops, and wealthy men with dozens of servants. Instead she saw adark, damp country where the predominating color seemed to beblack. With each successive town they passed through, theatmosphere seemed to get bleaker. The houses were little and poor,row after row of them. The people were clad in black clogs andshawls, their faces grim, their bodies small and stunted. Thebuildings were black, the factories were black and there was blacksmoke everywhere. Gone were the beautiful green fields ofIreland.
In her scarlet skirt and shawl, Kitty stoodout as the Gypsy she was. Her grandfather saw the look of dismayupon her face and asked kindly, “What’s the matter, my littlewench?”
“Everything is so dirty and so—so drab.”
“Never mind, lass. Where there’s muck there’smoney.”
“Oh, Grandada, you have a saying foreverything. But where are the big houses and the foinecarriages?”
“Ah, now, you’ll be meaning London. This isLancashire, where all the manufacturing goes on. I expect this iswhere all the money is made and the people go to London to spendit.”
Terry squeezed Kitty’s hand. “Never mind, wewon’t be staying in dirty little streets like these. We’ll beliving at the squire’s and he’s bound to have a grand place.”
Kitty said, “I feel so sorry for everybody.How will they get used to factory work?”
Swaddy patted her hand and said, “Ye get usedto hanging if ye hang long enough.”
It was late that night before everyone wassettled with the Irish families who lived on “Spake Hazy.” Swaddyand his two grandchildren were left at his niece’s house. AdaBlakely, a little woman aged beyond her years, made them welcomewith hot tea and potato pie. Her husband, Jack, was not inevidence, and she explained that he always spent his evenings atthe Dog & Kennel, a pub at the top of the street. She had fivechildren, ranging from a girl of twelve to a new baby. All were inbed save the oldest girl, Doris, who couldn’t take her eyes off thebeautiful brother and sister who had been billeted on them.
“These little houses only have two up and twodown. I don’t know wherever you are going to sleep,” Ada said,wringing her hands helplessly.
Kitty spoke up, “Terry and I can sleep downhere, it will only be for tonight. Tomorrow, Squire O’Reilly issending his carriage for us. We are to work at his house. Grandadais too old to go into the mill, but he will be a great help to you,I know. He’s very good with children; he brought Terrance and me upfrom little babies.”
“Maybe I could let you look after the little’uns and I could get set on at the mill,” Ada said hopefully to theold man.
After everyone had gone to bed, Terry laydown on the horsehair sofa, and Kitty sat curled before the firereading her book, the only possession she had brought with herexcept for the family tarot cards. She read:
Never scratch your head, pick your teeth,clean your nails, or worse than all, pick your nose in company.Spit as little as possible, and never upon the floor.
Kitty put the book down and slipped intoblessed sleep.
The carriage arrived early and Kitty wasvastly relieved that the squire had kept his word. After a tearfulgood-bye the carriage took them away from the dark little streetsand out toward the country. In the daylight Kitty could see thatthe town sat in a bowl and if you lifted your eyes to the horizon,it was surrounded by green moors.
“Oh, it’s a town in a bowl, Terrance. That’swhy it’s called ‘Bolton’!”
The O’Reillys lived at Hey House. Thecarriage turned up a long drive bordered by huge rhododendronbushes, which were a mass of red bloom. Terry was let off at thestables and Kitty was led to the servants’ entrance. Thehousekeeper looked her up and down and gave a loud sniff. “IrishGypsy! I don’t know whatever the master is thinking of.”
Kitty thought,I’ll have you eatin’ out ofmy hand before this day is out, missus.Then she curtsied tothe housekeeper and said prettily, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Ican see I shall be happy here, you have created such a warm,welcoming atmosphere. No wonder the squire always speaks of you insuch glowing terms when he comes to Ireland.”
Mrs. Thomson showed a flicker of interest andKitty pressed her advantage. “A treasure, that’s what he’s aftercalling you behind your back.”
“Come and sit by the fire, child; have you noshoes?”
“No, ma’am, but himself told me to put myselfentirely into your capable hands and you would do me proud.”
“Did he indeed?” she simpered. “Here, let’shave a cup of tea.”
“Oh, thank you, ma’am. I can see by your facehow kind you are. I can read your tea leaves for you when we arefinished.”
