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." "I will tell you of a giant named Finn McCool, who is said to have lived on that rocky shore. Do you know what a giant is?" "Oh, yes. He's like any other man, only he's ever and ever so much bigger," answered Norah. "Very well, then. This particular giant wished to fight another giant who lived in Scotland. He invited him to come across the sea to Ireland. But the Scotch giant was not able to swim. So he answered: "'I would gladly come if I could, but I cannot get across.' "'It's an aisy matter to make a road for you,' said Finn. 'It is hardly worth speaking about.' "He set to work at once and built a road, or causeway, made of stone pillars. They were placed close together, and reached upward from the bed of the sea. Of course, the Scotch giant could not refuse to come now." "Could we see it if we went there?" Mollie eagerly asked. "You could see a part of it. But, according to the legend, it was broken in two by the sea. Even now, you could walk out upon it for quite a distance. But the causeway slopes downward into the water, and then seems to stop. Some people, however, believe it extends under the sea clear to Scotland. "It is certainly a wonderful thing, and many people from other countries go to see it. "Do you suppose it was really the work of giants, children?" "Indade, whatever else could it be, sir? No common man could do it." "No one knows; no one knows," said the schoolmaster, thoughtfully. "But come, let us join in the songs. We know more about them." How sweet and clear the voices sounded, as the favourite tunes of Ireland rang through the farmhouse. Then came fairy stories and jokes, and the party broke up just as the little wooden clock on the mantel struck the hour of midnight. CHAPTER VII. FAIRIES "WAKE up, me darlint. You have been dozing by the fire long enough," said Norah's father. It was a cold evening in winter. Patsy was sound asleep in his bed. The good mother sat knitting socks for her husband; Mike was whittling a hockey stick to play with the next day. Little Katie was singing her rag doll to sleep, while Norah lay on the floor by the fireplace with eyes shut tight and breathing softly. When her father touched her cheek and spoke to her, she sprang up with a sudden start.