As they sat eating, the piper began to play a soft, sad tune.

"They do say he learned it of the fairies," whispered Mollie to Norah.

Just then, the children's school-teacher came and sat down beside them.

He heard the word "Fairies."

"Do you believe in fairies?" he asked Norah.

She lifted her blue eyes in surprise.

"Sure, sir. They live in the hills and caves. And there be some, I have heard, who have their homes under the waves of the sea. This night they are more lively than at most times.

"Mother was careful this morning not to drain the milk-pail. She wanted to leave a drop in case the fairy folk should come along and wish for a sup. And sure, sir, father never puts the fire out at night. He says maybe the fairies might like to rest a bit on our hearth before the morning."

The schoolmaster smiled, but did not contradict the little girl. He thought it would only trouble the child.

Norah's father had once said, "The teacher is a man of great larnin'.

And, strange to say, I have heard that people of larnin' have little belief in fairy folk."

"Would you like me to tell you a story?" asked the teacher, after a moment or two.

"Oh, plaze do, indade!" said Norah and Mollie together. They loved their teacher dearly.

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 sh.o.r.e 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 sh.o.r.e. 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.

"I've been dreaming. Oh, it was such a beautiful dream!" she exclaimed.

"I was with the fairies in a big cave. They were having a party, and they looked just lovely. Indade, it was the sweetest dream I ever had."

"Do tell us about it," cried Katie. "Oh, do, Norah. And don't forget a single thing."

Norah's cheeks were rosy red, and her blue eyes sparkled as she painted the dream picture to the listening family.

She had been in the grand hall of a cave. It was like no other hall she had ever seen. The walls were shining with precious stones. Shining pendants hung from the ceiling and glistened in the light given by hundreds of fairy torches.

But the fairies themselves were the loveliest sight of all. Oh, they were such tiny creatures! The young lady fairies were all in white, and their soft, fair hair hung far down over their shoulders.

The young gentlemen fairies wore green jackets and white breeches.

The fairy queen had a golden crown on her head, and when she waved her golden wand, every one hastened to do her bidding.

They all had sweet, kind faces, and looked lovingly at Norah as they danced around her to the fairy music.

When Norah had got this far in her story, she turned to her father, and said:

"Then you called me, and the fairies all looked sad, and then--then--that's all I can remember."