and three of her friends went to the back of the Keefe farm where a 
     
     bubbling spring flowed into a brook. After taking a drink of fresh, cold 
     
     water from the spring, the girls went wading in the brook, splashing 
     
    

    
     and laughing along the shallow banks warmed by the afternoon sun. 
     
     Apparently the bottom of Kathleen’s dress got wet, and it would not have 
     
     dried by the time she picked up the mail at the post office and made her 
     
     way home. There was a letter from Johnny in Philadelphia, and Kathleen 
     
     passed it over to her mother Angelina who was preparing supper. As 
     
     Angelina was reading the letter, she looked down and noticed the bottom 
     
     of Kathleen’s dress was still showing evidence of the afternoon adventure. 
     
    
   
   
    
     Kathleen was promptly sent to her bedroom, for the first and only time 
     
     in her life. The punishment had its compensations, however. Her brother 
     
     Earl took her supper to the room, and she was joined later by a few other 
     
     visitors. But that was her last trip to the brook. 
     
    
   
   
    
     The family was always well—fed. There were lots of potatoes and 
     
    

    
     other vegetables, of course, and cabbages picked in the fall were 
     
    

    
     stored throughout the winter in a barrel of water and salt. Without 
     
     refrigeration, beef and pork were pickled to preserve them. Bread was 
     
     homemade, rolls were made from bread dough, and both were served 
     
     with copious amounts of molasses. Butter was made at home; it was 
     
     churned in the kitchen, and the left—over buttermilk was regarded as a 
     
     delicacy by some. Pies and cookies were served for dessert. Biscuits were 
     
     made daily. Donuts were a special treat at Christmas time. There was 
     
     always a goose for Christmas dinner. 
     
    
   
   
    
     Religion was a central part of family life. They would travel together on 
     
     Sundays up the road to St. Malachy’s church. Every evening, the family 
     
     would gather around and say the rosary. They would get down on their 
     
     knees and lean over a chair or sofa and begin to pray. Since the Keefe 
     
     home welcomed a lot of visitors, it was not unusual for visitors to arrive 
     
     when they were in the midst of saying the rosary. If people arrived when 
     
     the rosary was being said, they were expected to join in. One evening a 
     
     neighbour arrived in the midst of the rosary, and after it was finished, he 
     
     stayed for a cup of tea. As he got up to leave, he said he had to drop in 
     
     on another neighbour down the road; he hoped they were done with the 
     
     rosary because it was the fourth time he had said it that evening. 
     
    
   
   
    
     46 KATHLEEN MURPHY, MAITRIARC