SHE
CHANGED HER MIND - A TRUE STORY by CARL H. CLAUDY
Timmy
O’Rourke is as Irish as his name, and one of the hardest working Lodge
Secretaries I know. I like Timmy
for many reasons, maybe you’ll guess why before you have finished this
page. “It was back a few
years,” Timmy confided to me after Lodge was closed one night. “Oh, I don’t know—the
girls are fifteen and seventeen—fourteen, fifteen years ago.”
“What
girls?”
“Our
girls—Tuscan Lodge’s girls. Stop
interrupting!” growled Timmy.
“’Tis a good story you’ll be
spoiling ...”
I promised to say
not another word.
“
Tuscan had a Brother
Cohen—and he was as fine a chap as you’d want to meet. Cohen had two babies—one two, the
other four—beautiful girl babies.
Mrs. Cohen died, and Cohen took his bairns and
went to board with Mrs. Halloran. Mrs. Halloran
is just the way all Mrs. Hallorans who keep boarding
houses ought to be; she’s fat and sixty-nine now, and Irish and Catholic,
and with a brogue as big as her heart.
And, of course, she took the motherless babies to her heart and loved
them in the ample Irish way. This
was in a city some five hundred miles from Tuscan Lodge.
Then Brother
Cohen got himself killed in an auto accident, and there was no
kith nor kin to look after body or babies. A Lodge in the city where he died wired
us for instructions; what were they to do with the body of our Brother, and
with his bairns?
Tuscan wired back to bury Brother Cohen and send us the bill, and ship
on the babies—we’d adopt them and put them in the Home.
“The Lodge
buried Brother Cohen, but the Welfare Board or the Court, some one,
wouldn’t let them send us the babies. It seems orphans just can’t be
shipped around like dead bodies.
Well, we wanted the babies.
Cohen was ours
and we loved him, and his babies, by the beard of Solomon (did Solomon have a
beard?) were ours, too. So we wrote
to the Court. “But Mrs. Halloran wanted the
babies, too. She had grown to love
them, and she resented with all her huge Irish heart the idea of any group of
men in general, and Masons in particular, robbing her as she thought of it, of
‘her’ children. She got
her a lawyer and we got us a lawyer, and at the right time the Lodge sent me on
to the city where the Court was to decide.
“Mrs. Halloran’s lawyer put her on the stand, and she did a
great job of damning the Masons and loving the kiddies; she had witnesses to
prove she had means enough to take care of them, and she didn’t need any
witnesses to make every one sure she loved the little girls—and her lawyer
hadn’t overlooked the bet of having them present, all dressed up in their
best bibs and tuckers. Mrs. Halloran was a star at dramatic loving of the children, and
when she got through every one seemed satisfied they were hers.
“Well, I
liked the old lady. But I had a job to do, too, so I told the court how the
Lodge had loved Cohen, and of how we had a beautiful Masonic Home—I had
photographs to show him—and of how we, the Lodge, had an income
sufficient to take care of a hundred orphans. And I stressed that we didn’t want
the babies for any ulterior motive, but just because they were our
Brother’s children. And I
guess I laid it on pretty thick about the educational advantages of the Home .
. .
“The Court
didn’t take long to decide.
‘Any group of men who want those children badly enough to
undertake to bring them up, and who would send a representative on a journey of
five hundred miles for no other reason than brotherly love, deserve
consideration,’ the Court said.
‘Mrs. Halloran cannot offer the children so many advantages, and
it is obvious the children should be brought up in the father’s
religion. So the Court awards these
minors to Tuscan.”
“Mrs. Halloran broke into a storm of weeping, and the babies
cried, and a lot of women in the Court sniffled, and it was a very damp party,
indeed. The judge called me to the
Bench and said ‘You have what you came after. But if I were you I’d be a little
tactful with Mrs. Halloran. You can see she loves the children. . .
.’
“I went
over and sat down by Mrs. Halloran. She was trying to say good-bye to the
babies and making very wet work of it.
“
‘You think I am
a bad man,’ I began, ‘but. . .’
“
‘Bad, is ut!” she stormed at me. “Faith, an’ if I thot ye was bad, I’d have th’ loife of yez. Staling my babies. . . I think ye fought f’r
a principle but I hate yez. Now I can part with
‘em. . .” She wept afresh. “The poor childer. .”
“
‘But I’m
not asking you to say good-bye to them, now,” I interrupted. “She
looked at me, puzzled.“ ‘You take them home
and get them ready. Pack up their
things. Then, after a week or so, I
want you to bring them to the Masonic Home.
We’ll pay
your expenses both ways. Come with
them. See for yourself what a
lovely place it is. Meet the House
Mother—you’ll know when you see her she will love and take care of
the children. And if you are not
entirely satisfied—well, you can bring them back with you again.’
“Maybe that
was stretching it a little, but the old lady was in real distress.
“
‘Ye mane I can
bring ‘em mesilf! Ye mane I can make shure
th childer
will be well trated?’
“
‘Exactly
so,’ I said, and Mrs. Halloran gathered up her
bag, her umbrella, a parcel, and her two babies and swept her two hundred and
fifty pounds from the Court.
“In
due time Mrs. Halloran came to the Home.
I met her. She came with a
chip on her shoulder and, metaphorically, a chain around the neck of each
baby. But we have a swell Home, and
after she had been there two days, and seen the School, and the other children,
and talked with the Superintendent and his staff, and with the guests . .
.well, she changed her mind. She
backed me into a corner.
“
‘Tis a fine job ye did, young man!” she accused me. “Fine, indade,
winnin’ me over whin
I wasn’t to be won. But I c’n see ye can do more f’r
thim here than I can, an’—‘ “Heaven
gave me the wit to know what she was trying to say and couldn’t get past
the lump.
“
‘Indeed, yes,
Mrs. Halloran!
You can come as often as you want, and in summer they can come to you
for a vacation—we want them to have you and your love . . .”
“And then I
was hugged in public—smothered is more nearly the term, and I loved
it! And now once a year Mrs. Halloran comes to see her girls, and once a year they spend
two weeks with her. And if you
could hear her talk about the Masons!
‘Sure, th’ good father says ye are
forbid by th’ church,’ she says,
‘but I knows what I know.
‘Tis good men ye are an
I’ll fight wid enywan
who says ye ain’t.
‘Tis all goin’ th’ same road—“
I thought this
over for a moment. Then: “How does Mrs. Halloran
get enough money to make the journey every year? Does the Lodge . . .”
“It does
not,” said Timmy, rather shortly, “and ‘tis none of your
business.”
He was
right. It wasn’t. But I think I know.
Which
is one of many reasons why I like Timmy......