"Mother was careful this morning not to drain the milk-pail. She wanted to leave a drop in case the fairy folk should come along and wish for a sup. And sure, sir, father never puts the fire out at night. He says maybe the fairies might like to rest a bit on our hearth before the morning."
The schoolmaster smiled, but did not contradict the little girl. He thought it would only trouble the child.
Norah's father had once said, "The teacher is a man of great larnin'. And, strange to say, I have heard that people of larnin' have little belief in fairy folk."
"Would you like me to tell you a story?" asked the teacher, after a moment or two.
"Oh, plaze do, indade!" said Norah and Mollie together. They loved their teacher dearly.
Their school was kept in a plain, bare little room with rough benches and desks. There was nothing bright or pretty about it. But their teacher was kind, and tried to help them learn. They were always glad to be with him and hear him talk.
"You have never been to the north of Ireland, have you?" he asked.
"Oh, no, sir. We've never been farther from home than the Lakes of Killarney," answered Mollie.
"But you know, of course, that this is an island, and if you travel to the northeastern shore of Ireland you must cross the sea if you want to go to Scotland."
"Yes, indeed, you showed that to us on the map at school."