Spanish Gold. George A. Birmingham
done in the way of improving the material conditions of life, the Commissioners feel that it would be a national disgrace if the rising generation is left in a condition of barbaric ignorance. You recollect what the hymn says:
"'Every prospect pleases
And only man is vile,'
That's how the Commissioners feel, and you can't blame them."
"But there are only nine children on the whole island," said Higginbotham.
"Still there are nine. Why should nine children go ignorant to their graves? It isn't the fault of the nine that there aren't more. Besides, there may be more. That's what the Board of Education feels—there may be more. The Commissioners are long-headed men, Higginbotham; not a cuter lot on any Board in Ireland. They look to the future. They see before them generations of Thomas O'Flahertys yet unborn, little toddlers coming out of those slated houses of yours with copy-books in their chubby fists, all of them filled with a desire for knowledge. I tell you what, it's an inspiring picture, say what you like."
"Where," said Higginbotham, overwhelmed by this vision of the future, "where do you propose to build the school?"
"There's a house," said Meldon, "if you can call it a house, at the end of a particularly abominable bohireen. The thatch, what there is of it, is tied on with straw ropes, and there's only one small window to it that I could see. It's just under the brow of the hill above the place we're sitting now. It's bang in the middle of the island, and it's just the place for a school."
"That's the very cabin we've been talking about," said Higginbotham. "That's Thomas O'Flaherty Pat's—the place he won't give up."
"Oh, I'll manage him," said Meldon. "Don't you worry. Give me a week and I'll talk the old boy round. And now I think the Major and I had better be getting back to our floating home. We've got to navigate the bay in a punt that's more like the half of the cover of a football than anything else, and I don't much fancy doing it in the dark."
The Major, remained obstinately silent while Meldon paddled him home. Nor did he make any reply to Meldon's remarks while undressing to go to bed. Half an hour later he put his head over the side of his bunk and said:
"I'm not going to stand this, J. J. It's all very fine. I don't deny that you're a fluent liar, but I'm not going to be made a fool of. I won't stand it. Either you tell Higginbotham to-morrow that you've been pulling his leg, or I leave the island. Do you hear me? Why, man, we might get into serious trouble if these stories of yours ever came out. Are you listening to me?"
"More or less," said Meldon sleepily. "Don't you worry. Leave it to me! I'll manage all right. Good- night, Major. Don't you get dreaming of pliocene clay."
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