O'Callaghan. "He's a man of sinse. Your father was a man of great sinse,
Pat. Fightin' is a bad thing, so it is. But your father's gone, and it's
you must kape the little wans from harm in his place. You'd be but a bad
brother to stand by and see any wan strike little Andy. There's some
things has got to be put a stop to, and the sooner it's done the better,
says I." Then after a pause, "I hope you larn your lessons, Pat?"

"I do, mother."

"I thought you would. Your father always larnt all that come handy to
him. Larnin's no load, Pat. Larn all you can."

Now Pat, with the exception of Latin, was no whit behind other boys of
his age, for he had been sent to school in the country from the time he
was five years old. The fight being over, he gave his mind thoroughly to
his books, a thing he could not do while he did not know what to expect
from Jim Barrows and his set, and his class-standing was high.

And now the first of April was at hand. The O'Callaghans had been a
month in town and the widow was beginning to see that she had
overestimated the purchasing power of what she could earn at four
washing places. Four dollars a week needed a supplement. How could it be
supplied? Mrs. O'Callaghan cast about in her mind. She had already
discovered that Wennott offered a poor field for employment, so far as
boys were concerned, and yet, in some way, her boys must help her. By
day, by night she thought and could hit upon nothing unless she took her
sons from school.

"And that I'll not do," she said, "for larnin' is at the root of
everything."