"I was helpin' Mrs. Brady with the puddin' sauce and dishin' up. 'Twas behind we all was, owin' to a caller, and Mrs. Brady said if it hadn't been for me the dinner would have been spoiled sure. I got there just in time." "The Gineral," said Mrs. O'Callaghan, looking about her impressively, "is the handsomest and the foinest gintleman in the town. Iverybody says so. And the Gineral ain't above puttin' an apron on him and makin' gravy. Let that be a lesson to you all. The war's over. You'll none of you iver be ginerals. But you can all make gravy, so you can." "When, mother, when?" asked Barney and Tommie eagerly, who saw at once that gravy would be a great improvement on mud pies, their only culinary accomplishment at present. "When?" repeated the widow. "All in good toime, to be sure. Pat will be givin' Moike the Gineral's receipt, and the b'y that steps into Moike's place--and that'll be Andy, I'm thinkin'--he'll larn it of Moike, and so on, do you see?" "And I was just thinkin'," put in Pat, with an encouraging glance at Mike, "that Jim Barrows's cookin' was like to be poor eatin'." "True for you, my b'y!" exclaimed the widow. "The idea of that Jim Barrows a-cookin' niver struck me before. But, as you say, no doubt 'twould be poor. Them that's not above nignaggin' the unfortunate is apt to be thinkin' themsilves above cookin', and if they tried it wanst, no doubt their gravy would be a mixture of hot water and scorch, with, like enough, too little salt in it if it didn't have too much, and full of lumps besides. 'Tis your brave foightin' men and iligant gintlemen loike the Gineral that makes the good gravy." CHAPTER VIII "Pat, I forgot to give Mr. Brady the list of things that I want sent up this morning." Pat looked up from his dishwashing sympathetically, for there was perplexity in the kindly tone and on the face no longer young. It was always a mystery to the boy why Mrs. Brady called her husband "Mr. Brady" when everybody else said General Brady. "But it's none of my business, of course," he told himself. It was Saturday morning. "Do you think you could go down, Pat, when the dishes are finished?" "Indeed, and I can that, ma'am," returned Pat heartily. "Do so, then," was the reply. And Mrs. Brady walked away with a relieved air. "I'm ready, ma'am," announced Pat, coming to the sitting-room door a little later. "Will you be havin' me to take the list to General Brady, or will you be havin' me to be doin' the buyin' myself?" Mrs. Brady thought a moment. Her husband very much disliked marketing. If Pat should prove as capable in that direction as in every other, the General would be saved what was to him a disagreeable task. She resolved to try him. So she said, "You may do the buying yourself, Pat." "Thank you kindly, ma'am," answered Pat respectfully. "Do you like to buy things?" asked Mrs. Brady, surprised at the expression of anticipated pleasure on the boy's face.