The brother, five years older than myself, was first to be sent to school, being marched off early one morning by Mr Collopy to see the Superior of the Christian Brothers’ school at Westland Row. A person might think the occasion was one merely of formal introduction and enrolment, but when Mr Collopy returned, he was alone. –By God’s will, he explained, Manus’s foot has been placed today on the first rung of the ladder of learning and achievement, and on yonder pinnacle beckons the lone star. –The unfortunate boy had no lunch, Mrs Crotty said in a shrill voice. –You might consider, Mrs Crotty, that the Lord would provide, even as He does for the birds of the air. I gave the bosthoon a tuppence. Brother Cruppy told me that the boys can get a right bag of broken biscuits for a penny in a barber’s shop there up the lane. –And what about milk? –Are you out of your wits, woman? You know the gorawars you have to get him to drink his milk in this kitchen. He thinks milk is poison, the same way you think a drop of malt is poison.
