Michael sang with the others. And when the song was ended, he said,
"'Tis a true word, Mr Maguire, that there's no place like old Ireland;
and you'll not find an Irishman anywhere in America that wouldn't put
the man down that said a word against her. But what with the landlords
taking every shilling you can scrape together and charging you higher
rent whenever you make a bit of an improvement on your farm, there's no
chance at all to get on in the world. And with the children, God bless
them, coming along by sixes and dozens, and little for them to do at
home, and no place to put them when they grow up, sure, it's well to go
where they've a better chance.
"Look at the schools now! If you could see the school that my Patrick
goes to, you'd never rest at all until your children had the same!
Sure, the schoolhouses are like palaces over there, and as for learning,
the children pick it up as a hen does corn!"
"And are there no faults with America, whatever?" Mr McQueen said to
Michael.
"There do be faults with her," Michael answered, "and I'll never be the
man to say otherwise. There's plenty of things to be said about America
that would leave you thinking 'tis a long way this side of Heaven. But
whatever it is that's wrong, 'tis the people themselves that make it so,
and by the same token it is themselves that can cure the trouble when
they're so minded. It's not like having your troubles put down on you
by the people that's above you, and that you can't reach at all for to
be correcting them! All I say is there's a better chance over there for
yourself and the children."
The Twins and Dennis and the other young people were getting tired of
sitting still by this time, and when Michael stopped talking about
America they jumped up. The children ran outdoors and played tag around
Grannie's house, and the older people stayed inside.
By and by Grannie came to the door and called them. "Come in, every one
of you," she cried, "and have a fine bit of cake with currants in it!
Sure, Michael brought the currants and all the things for to make it
yesterday, thinking maybe there'd be neighbours in. And maybe 'tis the
last bit of cake I'll be making for you at all, for 'tis but two weeks
now until we start across the water." She wiped her eyes on her apron.
Mr McQueen was very quiet as he walked home with Mrs McQueen and the
Twins. And that evening, after the children were in bed, he sat for a
long time silent, with his pipe in his mouth. His pipe went out and he
did not notice it. By and by he said to Mrs McQueen, "I've made up my
mind--"
"The Lord save us! To what?" said Mrs McQueen.
"To go to America," said Mr McQueen.
Mrs McQueen hid her face in her hands and rocked back and forth and
cried. "To be leaving the place I was born, and where my father and
mother were born before me, and all the neighbours, and this old house
that's been home since ever I married you--'twill break the heart in my
body," she said.
"I like that part of it no better than yourself," said Mr McQueen, "but
when I think of the years to come, and Larry and Eileen growing up to
work as hard as we have worked without getting much at all, and think of
the better chance altogether they'll have over there, sure, I can't be
thinking of the pain, but only of the hope there is in it for them."
"I've seen this coming ever since the children told us about Grannie
Malone's letter," said Mrs McQueen. "'Tis Michael has put this in your
head."
"'Tis not Michael alone," said Mr McQueen; "'tis also other things.
To-morrow I pay Conroy the rent money. And it will take all that the
pig brought and all I've been able to rake and scrape myself, and
nothing left over at all. And there's but ourselves and the Twins, and
the year has not been a bad one. We have had the pig, which we wouldn't
be having another year. And what would it be like if there were more of
us to feed, and no more pigs to be found in the bog like manna from
Heaven, to be helping us out?"
"Sure, if it's for the children," sobbed Mrs McQueen, "I'd go anywhere
in the world, and that you know well."
"I do know it," said Mr McQueen. "And since we're going at all, let it
be soon. We'll go with Grannie and Michael."
"In two weeks' time?" cried Mrs McQueen.
"We will so," said Mr McQueen. "I've no debts behind me, and we can
sell the cows and hens, and take with us whatever we need from the
house. Michael Malone will lend me the money and find me a job when we
get there. The likes of this chance will never befall us again, and
faith, we'll take it."
"Did he tell you so?" asked Mrs McQueen.
"He did, indeed."
"Well, then, I've no other word to say, and if it must be done, the
sooner the better," said Mrs McQueen.
That night she lay awake a long time. She was planning just what they
should take with them to their new home, and trying to think what the
new home would be like.