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Updated: May 24, 2025
Yes, Mrs. Watson had a great many perplexities how to make trousers for four boys out of the one old pair the minister's wife had given her; how to make the memory of the rice-pudding they had on Sunday last all the week; how to work all day and sew at night, and still be brave and patient; how to make little Danny and Bugsey forget they were cold and hungry. Yes, Mrs.
"Bugsey, your stockin's are the best. Off wid them, Mary, and mend the hole in the knees of them, and, Bugsey, hop into bed for we'll be needin' your pants anyway. It's awful stylish for a little lad like Danny to be wearin' pants under his dresses, and now what about boots? Let's see yours, Patsey.
"She's a queer girl, is Pearlie," she said that night, when Pearl had gone upstairs to arbitrate a quarrel which had broken out between Bugsey and Danny as to whose turn it was to split the kindling wood. "Day about" it had been until Bugsey had urged that it be changed to "week about," and the delicate matter in dispute now was as to the day on which the week expired.
"Sure it's the first bite that's always the best, a body might not like it so well on the second," said Jimmy as he took his, but Bugsey refused to have any at all. "Wan bite's no good," he said, "it just lets yer see what yer missin." "D'ye think she'll ever come to see us, ma?" asked Pearlie, as she set Danny in the chair to give him his supper. The family was fed in divisions.
"Who'll make me remember to spit on me warts?" Bugsey asked. "Who'll keep house when ma goes to wash?" wee Tommy wailed dismally. Danny's grievance could not be expressed in words. He buried his tousy head in Pearl's apron, and Pearl saw at once that her whole house were about to be submerged in tears, idle tears. "Stop your bleatin', all of yez!" she commanded in her most authoritative voice.
When the boys came back with their purchases they were put in a row upon their mother's bed to be out of the way while the supper was being prepared, all except wee Bugsey, who went, from choice, down to the tracks to see the cars getting loaded the sizzle of the turkey in the oven made the tears come. Two hours later the Watson family sat down to supper, not in sections, but the whole family.
It seemed long this morning to wait for the butcher, but the only way to be sure of a ride was to be on the spot. Sometimes there were delays in getting away from home. Getting on a coat was one; finding a hat was the worst of all. Since Bugsey got the nail in his foot and could not go out the hat question was easier. The hat was still hard to find, but not impossible. Wilford Ducker came along.
Francis never knows what ye'r sayin' to her at the toime; ye could say 'chew tobacco, chew tobacco' all ye liked before her; but what for did ye sass owld lady McGuire? Haven't I towld ye time out of mind that a soft answer turns away wrath, and forbye makes them madder than anything ye could say to them?" Bugsey tearfully declared he would never go to Band of Hope again.
Bugsey Watson forgot his Band of Hope teaching of returning good for evil, and standing on the disputed territory, he planted his little bare legs far apart and shouted, dancing up and down to the rhythm: Chew tobacco, chew tobacco, Spit, spit, spit! Old McGuire, old McGuire, Nit, nit, nit! Mrs. McGuire did occasionally draw comfort from an old clay pipe but Bugsey's punishment was near.
"Git it for me this minute," and Patsey went to the "fallen leaf" of the table and found it on the inside where he had put it for safe keeping. "Now you give that to Bugsey," she said, "and that'll make it kind o' even though it does look as if you wuz gettin' off pretty light."
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