Mullins, in his
later years, had been a dependent about Trinity College, and
constant association with books and students had given him a taste
for knowledge denied his daughter. Tom had left home when a girl.
In the long winter nights during the slack season, after the
stalls were bedded and the horses were fed and watered and locked
up for the night, the old man would draw up his chair to the big
kerosene lamp on the table, and tell the boys stories--they
listening with wide-open eyes, Cully interrupting the narrative
every now and then by such asides as "No flies on them fellers,
wuz ther', Patsy? They wuz daisies, they wuz. Go on, Pop; it's
better'n a circus;" while Patsy would cheer aloud at the downfall
of the vanquished, with their "three thousand lance-bearers put to
death by the sword," waving his crutch over his head in his
enthusiasm.
Jennie would come in too, and sit by her mother; and after
Nilsson's encounter with Quigg--an incident which greatly advanced
him in Tom's estimation--Cully would be sent to bring him in from
his room over the stable and give him a chair with the others,
that he might learn the language easier. At these times it was
delightful to watch the expression of pride and happiness that
would come over Tom's face as she listened to her father's talk.
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