“Thank you! thank you! Now I shall get on!” he cried, and ran up the hill.
“You seem to understand boys!” said the brother.
“I have always had a sort of ambition to understand ignorance.”
“Understand ignorance?”
“You know what queer shapes the shadows of the plainest things take: I never seem to understand any thing till I understand its shadow.”
The youth glanced keenly at Donal.
“I wish I had had a tutor like you!” he said.
“Why?” asked Donal.
“I should have done better.—Where do you live?”
Donal told him he was lodging with Andrew Comin, the cobbler. A silence followed.