An Irish Christmas Feast Read Online Free Page A

at the rear of the presbytery. When she drew the bolt and went outside the animal was standing still. In the trap Father Canty was fast asleep, the rain dripping from his hat. Gently she awakened him and led him indoors. She seated him close to the fire where she had drawn the kitchen table.
    â€˜You’re a life-saver Agnes,’ he spoke with unconcealed fervency as he ravenously spooned the steaming giblet soup into his waiting mouth. She tip-toed from the kitchen and up the stairs. She lit the paraffin lamp and replaced the hot water bottle with another of more immediate vintage. As she silently descended the stairs she met him on his way up. He seemed to be overcome by drowsiness. She allowed a short interval to pass before knocking at the bedroom door.
    â€˜Come,’ came the voice.
    â€˜You have it well-earned,’ she assured him when he expressed doubt about his entitlement to the extra punch. She stood by while he swallowed and took the empty glass when it was extended to her. She quenched the lamp and closed the bedroom door behind her. Rarely did he snore but he snored now. The snores were long and profound. As she passed his bedroom door a short while later the snores were deep and even. She could not believe her ears when the irritating sound of the front door bell shattered the silence.
    â€˜What now?’ she asked as she hurried down the stairs lest the continuous tinkling disturb her master’s slumber.
    â€˜Who’s out in God’s name?’ she called without drawing the bolt.
    â€˜It’s us missus,’ came the unmistakable voice of the taller Maldooney.
    Slowly Agnes Mallowan drew the bolt and opened the door.
    They stood huddled together as they had on the previous visit. Agnes Mallowan folded her arms and spread her legs across the width of the doorway to prevent access to the hallway. The brothers, dripping wet, looked at each other and then at the housekeeper.
    â€˜State your business,’ she said coldly.
    â€˜We want the priest,’ from the taller brother.
    â€˜Is it to pay him the Christmas dues you want him?’ Agnes asked as the smaller of the pair snuffled and sniffled, sensing that there was to be no tea on this occasion.
    â€˜We want the priest for our father,’ he explained between sniffles, ‘he forgot a sin. ’
    â€˜And you expect Father Canty to get out of his bed and go back up the mountain to Farrangarry because your dada forgot to tell him he wet the bed.’
    â€˜Oh now!’ said the smaller brother, ‘’tis a deal worse than wetting the bed. No one will go to hell for wetting the bed but fornicating will get you there on the double.’
    â€˜Fornicating!’ the housekeeper’s curiosity got the better of her.
    â€˜And who was he fornicating with?’ she asked.
    â€˜Never mind who,’ from the taller brother. ‘It’s enough for you to know that he’ll face the fires of hell on account of he deliberately failing to mention this particular one.’
    Agnes found herself in a dilemma. If she called Father Canty the journey to Farrangarry and back could be the death of him. If she didn’t call him and the man died with an unforgiven sin on his soul she would be guilty of sending a soul to hell. She came down in favour of her employer.
    â€˜I’m not calling him,’ she said, and was about to close the door when the smaller man pushed her backwards into the hallway.
    â€˜You call him,’ he shouted angrily.
    Agnes stood her ground. Her mission in life was to protect her master. She decided on a change of tack.
    â€˜There’s no fear of your dada,’ she assured them.
    â€˜Without a priest he’s bound for hell,’ the taller brother pushed the smaller forward.
    The housekeeper refused to be intimidated. Not an inch of ground did she yield.
    â€˜Didn’t I tell ye there was no fear of him,’ she drew herself upwards and refolded her arms,