The Foolish Lovers | Page 9

he said. "You never get no rest at all, and here's me still
at the school!..."
"Ah, wheesht with you, boy!" Uncle William interrupted. "What sort of
talk is this? You will not leave the school, young man! The learning
you're getting will do you a world of benefit, even if you never go on
with the teachering. You're a lucky wee lad, so you are, to be getting
paid to go to school. There was no free learning when I was a child, I
can tell you. Your grandda had to pay heavy for your da and your
Uncle Matthew and me. Every Monday morning, we had to carry our
fees to the master. Aye, and bring money for coal in the winter or else
carry a few sods of turf with us if we hadn't the money for it. That was
what children had to do when I was your age, John. I tell you there's a
queer differs these times between schooling from what there was when
I was a scholar, and you'd be the great gumph if you didn't take

advantage of your good fortune!"
"But I'd like to help you, Uncle William. Do you not understand me? I
want to be doing something for you!" John insisted.
"I understand you well enough, son. You've been moidhering your
mind about me, but sure there's no call for you to do that. No call at all!
Now, not another word out of your head! I've said my say on that
subject, and I'll say no more. Go on with your learning, and when
you've had your fill of it, we'll see what's to be done with you. How
much is twelve and nine?"
"Twenty-one, Uncle William!"
"Twenty-one!" said Uncle William, at his day-book again. "Nine and
carry one!..."
In this way Uncle William settled John's offer to serve in the shop, and
restored learning and literature to his affection and esteem. John had
not given in so easily as the reader may imagine. He had insisted that
his Uncle William worked much too hard, had even hinted that Uncle
Matthew spent more time over books than he spent over "the books,"
the day-book and the ledger; but his Uncle William had firmly
over-ruled him.
"Books are of more account to your Uncle Matthew than an oul' ledger
any day," he said, "and it'll never be said that I prevented him from
reading them. We all get our happiness in different ways, John, and it
would be a poor thing to prevent a man from getting his happiness in
his way just because it didn't happen to be your way. Books are your
Uncle Matthew's heart's-idol, and I wouldn't stop him from them for the
wide world!"
"But he does nothing, Uncle William," John said, intent on justice, even
when it reflected on his beloved Uncle.
"I know, but sure the heart was taken out of him that time when he was
arrested for breaking the man's window. It was a terrible shock to him,

that, and he never overed it. You must just let things go on as they're
going. I don't believe you'll foe content to be a teacher. Not for one
minute do I believe that. But whatever you turn out to be, it'll be no
harm to have had the extra schooling you're getting, so you'll stay on a
monitor for a while longer. And now quit talking, do, or you'll have me
deafened with your clatter!"
Uncle William always put down attempts to combat his will by
assertions of that sort.
"Are you angry with me, Uncle William?" John anxiously asked.
"Angry with you, son?" He swung round again on the high stool.
"Come here 'til I show you whether I am or not!"
And then Uncle William gathered him up in his arms and crushed the
boy's face into his beard. "God love you, John," he said, "how could I
be angry with you, and you your da's son!"
"I love you queer and well, Uncle," John murmured shyly.
"Do you, son? I'm glad to hear that."
"Aye. And I love my Uncle Matthew, too!..."
"That's right. Always love your Uncle Matthew whatever you do or
whatever happens. He's a man that has more need of love nor most of
us. Your da loved him well, John!"
"Did he?"
"Aye, he did, indeed!" Uncle William put his pen down on the desk,
and leaning against the ledger, rested his head in the cup of his hand.
"Your da was a strange man, John," he said, "a queer, strange man,
with a powerful amount of knowledge in his head. That man could
write Latin and Greek and French and German, and he was the first
man in Ballyards to write the Irish language ... and