funerals and such, and maybe Pat'll be showin' you through it some day
when he gets acquainted. I'm told anybody can see it. Grane house, I
belave they calls it, but why anybody should call a garden house a grane
house I can't tell, for sure and it's not a bit of a grane idea to sell
flowers if you can find them that has the money to buy 'em."

At this, quiet little Andy, who was fond of his book, glanced up. "Maybe
they call it greenhouse because it's full of green things," he said.

The widow nodded two or three times in a convinced manner. "To be sure.
That's the reason," she said. "And it's proud I am to have for my third
son a b'y that can give the reasons of things. And there's another
permotion we was forgettin'. Andy'll take Moike's place, so he will, and
look after the little b'ys. A b'y that can give reasons can look after
'em wonderful, so he can, if he don't get so full of his reasons that he
forgets the little b'ys entoirely. But Andy'll not be doin' that. I
niver told you before, but your father's favorite brother was named
Andy, and a great wan he was for reasons, as I've heard.

"Now breakfast's ready, so 'tis. I took my toime to it, for permotions
always takes toime. There's them that wants permotion in such a hurry
that they all but knocks over the wans in front of 'em. And that's bad,
so 'tis. And no way at all, nayther. Jist kape yoursilf ready to step,
and when the toime comes step aisy loike a gintleman, and then folks
rej'ices with you, instead of feelin' of their bumps and wonderin' at
your impudence. And the worst of them koind of tryin's after permotions
is that it hurts them behoind you, for they're jist a-breathin' aisy, do
you see, when back you come a-tumblin' a-top of 'em, and lucky you are
if you don't go past 'em, and land nobody knows where."