The postman laughed. "That was forty years ago, and I'd forgot all about it," he said, throwing out a letter from the pack. "It's a dozen pilgrimages to holy wells that I've made since then," he went on, "and there's not a heartier man for his age, than myself, in all Ireland." Then he called to the children and asked if they cared to ride with him as far as the National School, four miles back of the hill, to carry a letter to the teacher. "Oh, Molly darlin', a ride!" gasped Kathleen, hardly believing her ears; while Mary Ellen was so excited that she climbed over the seat and would have tumbled into the well of the jaunting-car if Kathleen had not held her back. "Steady, there, steady!" said Larry O'Day. "There be all sorts of wells in holy Ireland, from the blessed ones filled with the water that cures all ailments, to the empty one between the seats of a jaunting-car; but not a one is there built to hold little girls in red dresses." Both children laughed merrily, and held tight to each other as the old horse jogged up hill and down dale toward the far-away schoolhouse. The blue waters of a lake glistened afar off among the heather, and the postman said, "I mind me that somewhere in these parts there is a long flat stone that marks the place where the good Saint Columba was born. I've heard that if a body sleeps on it for one night before leaving dear old Ireland, he'll never be homesick." "Perhaps 'tis the same flat stone by Father's bench, where we play betimes," said Kathleen. "I'll tell Danny about it. He's thinking of going to find his fortune in America." Then the children asked about the schoolhouse and the children who went to school in it. "How old are they?" asked Kathleen. "Are there any as little as Mary Ellen?" "There are some smaller than Mary Ellen and some bigger than you," answered the postman. "There are both boys and girls." "What do they learn?" she asked again, while Mary Ellen asked, "What do they play?" "I've seen them playing some kind of a game where they hold hands in a circle," he told Mary Ellen, and both little girls cried at once, "That's 'Green grow the rushes-O.'" "Belike it is," he said cheerfully, and went on, "they learn reading, and writing, and the church catechism." "Don't they learn about the grand places there are in the other parts of the world?" asked Kathleen wistfully. One of her few great pleasures was to get out an old geography-book belonging to her father, and study the pictures in it. "Perhaps there's something of the sort for the older ones," said the postman, "but if a body can't travel the world over, to see such places, I'm doubtful if there's any good in learning about them." "Oh, no, no!" cried Kathleen, aghast at such a thought; while Mary Ellen said softly, "If I could see just one little green shamrock, I'd walk to the end of the world."