because their sons go to the rich schools and,Ye have no right to raise your hands to a better class of people so ye don’t. You never know when you might come home and find Mam sitting by  the  fire  chatting  with  a  woman  and  a  child,  strangers. Always  a woman and child. Mam finds them wandering the streets and if they ask, Could you spare a few pennies, miss? her heart breaks. She never has money so she invites them home for tea and a bit of fried bread and if it’s a bad night she’ll let them sleep by the fire on a pile of rags in the corner.The bread she gives them always means less for us and if we complain she says there are always people worse off and we can surely spare a little from what we have. Michael is just as bad. He brings home stray dogs and old men.You never know when you’ll find a dog in the bed with him.There are dogs with sores, dogs with no ears, no tails. There’s a blind greyhound he found in the park tormented by children. Michael fought off the chil- dren, picked up the greyhound that was bigger than himself and told Mam the dog could have his supper. Mam says, What supper? We’re lucky if there’s a cut of bread in the house. Michael tells her the dog can have his bread. Mam says that dog has to go tomorrow and Michael cries all night and cries worse in the morning when he finds the dog dead in the bed beside him. He won’t go to school because he has to dig a grave outside where the stable was and he wants all of us to dig with him and say the rosary. Malachy says it’s useless saying prayers for a dog, how do you know he was even a Catholic? Michael says, Of course he was a Catholic dog. Didn’t I have him in my arms? He cries so hard over the dog Mam lets us all stay at home from school.We’re so delighted we don’t mind helping Michael with the grave and we say three Hail Marys.We’re not going to stand there wasting a good day off from school saying the rosary for a dead greyhound. Michael is only six but when he brings old men home he manages to get the fire going and give them tea. Mam says it’s driving her crazy to come home and find these old men drinking out of her favorite mug and mumbling and scratching by the fire. She tells Bridey Hannon that Michael has a habit of bringing home old men all a bit gone in the head and if he doesn’t have a bit of bread for them he knocks on neighbors’ doors and has no shame begging for it. In the end she tells Michael, No more old men. One of them left us with lice and we’re plagued. 273