“I hear them very well; but his Irish gibberish is as Greek to me. All that I can make out is what seems to be the chorus:
“‘O Ireland, green Ireland,
Swate gem o’ the sae!’”
“Mamma,” said Annie, after listening with smiling interest a while, “it troubles me very often because Phelim knows nothing about our Saviour. He has a sister, two years older than I am, who cannot read. She never went to school; and none of the family can read a word.”
“How did you learn this?”
“From Phelim. I speak to him sometimes when he plays under the window.”
“Well, I don’t know how we can help them. If we should offer to teach them, they would not be willing to learn.”
“Are you sure of it, mamma?”
“Not quite so sure, perhaps, as if I had tried to instruct them; but I know that they regard a book as a sort of Protestant trap, made on purpose to catch them, soul and body. It is an evil that we cannot remedy.—Have you more pain than usual, my dear?” said Mrs. Lee, appearing a little startled, and bending anxiously over Annie’s couch as she observed an unusual flush on her pale cheek.
“No, mamma; but I was thinking of a plan that I have had for some weeks, and hoping that you would not object to it.”
“Object! You shall have whatever you like, if it can be procured. What is it, Annie?”