The Young O'Briens: Being an Account of Their Sojourn in LondonWestrup, Margaret
General
The Young O'Briens: Being an Account of Their Sojourn in London
Westrup, Margaret
Family life -- Fiction; Irish -- England -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
Kate Kearney barked suddenly; a door opened downstairs. Miss Kezia
demanded what was the matter. From overhead came Sarah’s quivering
voice, declaring that she had a poker and they’d better look out. Then
Denis’s voice soothingly: "It’s all right, Aunt Kezia! Christmas time,
you know—excitement—nightmare—so sorry you were disturbed. Good night."
In Molly’s room there was sudden silence. Nell had not moved.
Presently she crept along by the wall and went in. Just as she found the
stocking Molly’s voice quavered out: "I know someone’s in here! I never
minded at home—but—but it’s different here—who is it?"
To Nell’s utter surprise a voice just behind her answered and made her
jump.
"I am Santa Claus!" it said, deep and low. "What you felt was the
breeze my beard made as I flew past your bed. Do not be afraid, maiden;
I am the friend of all, and more especially am I the friend of the Irish
people! Now close thine eyes, and sleep till morning! Fare thee well!"
Nell heard the sort of relieved, happy little chuckle Molly gave. Then
she slipped out on to the landing, expecting every moment to bump into
Denis, and upstairs to his room. The door was open; she crept in,
turned to the left, and stretched out her hand. It encountered only
space; she moved forward, hand outstretched, till suddenly it hit
against the wall. She stood still, bewildered. Where was the bed?
"Turn round three times
To clear a Paddy’s brain!
Once more to make sure
And now for luck again!"
"Five times is beyond me—in the dark. _I_ know! That horrid Denis has
moved his bed!" She groped round the room till she found it; she put her
last parcels into his stocking and prepared to go back to her own room.
On her landing, just in front of the window, she came face to face with
a big and shadowy Denis.
"Ah," he said, "I thought I heard you moving. I’ve just been to your
room to see if you wanted anything. I was afraid you might be ill."
"How queer! That’s just what I heard and thought about you!"
"Very queer!"
"Yes, isn’t it?"
"Such coincidences do occur in the best-regulated families. You’re sure
you _are_ all right?"
"Quite, thank you. And you?"
"Oh, quite. Good night."
"Good night."
They passed each other; he looked back over his shoulder. Nell had
stopped. He turned, went back, swung her up into his strong arms.
"I’ll carry you back to your bed, young lady, and lock the door on you!"
He took her and plumped her down on to her bed. He bent and rubbed his
cheek against hers. "Strange we should both be walking in our sleep
to-night, old girl!"
"Very strange—_duckie_!"
"Nell! I won’t be called names. Atom asleep?"
"I think so."
Soon after he had gone the door was opened with a laborious care and
creakiness that proclaimed Molly. Nell smothered a laugh. "Of course!
Forgotten something."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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