Part seven: The trooper

The Shamrock

"We’re on an island!” said Kelly, the Irish colleen, peering at the flood water just outside the doorway of the old school house. “We may be stranded. The bridge is gone.”

“Not a problem,” replied her frog friend, Prince. “I can swim.” He knew that Kelly understood his gesture, but not his words.

She knew his help with Timothy O’Leary, the leprechaun-cobbler, now recovering from almost drowning, had been a blessing. 

After Kelly dried Timothy’s clothes by the fireplace, he got up to chat. She found him a fascinating, learned man, with a wonderful sense of humor. Prince was turning green with envy, as Kelly served Timothy green tea and crumpets that she found on the bookshelf.

“These crumpets are dry,” she said, apologetically.

“Maybe a British-Irish trooper left them?”

“Where did this come from?” Kelly asked. She had spotted a sprig of shamrock, the three-leafed white clover, hanging in the doorway.

“St. Patrick used shamrock as an Irish Christian symbol of the Trinity. We're in good hands,” replied Timothy. “But, it's not a four leaf clover with hope, faith, love and good luck.”   

“My dad says the Irish regiment in the British army uses the shamrock,” said Kelly. “Maybe you're right about a British soldier having been here, Timothy.”

“Do I have to compete with a leprechaun for the hand of my colleen?” wondered Prince. “I’ll find a four leaf clover, a lucky charm for Kelly.”

He went outside and saw Timothy’s black, cocked hat, floating in the water. Prince plopped it on his head and hopped back into the schoolhouse.

“Thank you,” said Timothy, excitedly. “I never thought I’d see my hat again. Now I owe you a favor.”  

“Perfect,” thought Prince. “That’s two.”

True to her word, Kelly gave Timothy back his gold coins too, not realizing she may have determined her own fate, forever.

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