“Oh thin, bedad, is she? An’ does she know about hins an’ turkey-cocks an’ geese an’ little pigeens?”
“I dare say she will talk to you about those things; but there’s a wide difference between her and you, for she speaks like a cultivated lady, whereas you talk like a little girl of the people.”
“Sure thin, yer mightiness, if you’d only lave me wid thim I’d be as happy as the day is long.”
“Now, my dear little Peggy, how can I do that when your father has implored of me to bring you up as one of my own children? Now, Peggy, set your wits to work—you’re quite clever enough—do you think that would be carrying out your father’s wishes if I did as you wished now? But you don’t know any better, you are just a silly, silly little girl.”
“Maybe you’re right, sor.”
“Uncle Paul.”
“Uncle Paul.”
“When Mary Welsh comes you can talk with her just as much as ever you like about Old Ireland; she will stay here for one fortnight, and at the end of that time she will tell me what she thinks had best be done towards your education.”
“How many things must I larn, Uncle Paul? I was sent out from school finished, so to spake.”
“Yes, but there are other schools where you would not be considered finished.”