money and he
was able to take his mother and Kathleen out of the little tenement
where she was born, and to live in a better place. Then he had a house
of his own, over on the west side of the Park, and it was there that
Kathleen lived when she was eighteen years old.

Peter had not got along so well. John himself employed him, but Peter
knew enough to go only just so far, and there he stuck. He lived in a
little better place than he did at first, but he could never make his
way like John. And then Terence, as he grew up, made a good deal of
trouble. He never would learn anything useful and he never would do
anything useful. He never helped his father at all, and always his
father had to help him. If there was any fight or any accident or
anything troublesome or wrong within a mile, Terence was always in the
midst of it. He was constantly getting his head and his ribs broken,
and Peter was always having to pay for other people's things that he
had broken, from their heads to their windows.

Ellen's excuse for him, that he was never well and had never been
quite himself since he was born, was pretty well worn out. For,
people said, he had always been exactly the same ever since he was
born, and if that same was not himself, who was it? But Ellen kept
saying it none the less. Many a time Mrs. O'Brien tried to make her
believe that the boy was a changeling, and not her child at all, and
many a time she begged Ellen to let her only try a charm to see if he
was, but Ellen never would hear of it. She always said what she had
said at first, that nobody knew him but her. She saw him better when
she dreamed about him, for then she saw him as he really was, without
all the harm that had been done to him by all the sickness that had
been on him one time and another.

You might suppose that anybody who could play the fiddle as well as
Terence need not have any trouble in making his own living. He might
have found a place in a theatre, like the man whose fiddle he had
played on first. He might have taught others to play. Or he might have
played all by himself, and hundreds of people would have paid to hear
him. But he would play only when he chose, and he would never do
anything useful with his fiddle. And everybody said he played so
wonderfully--everybody except Kathleen.

And this brings us back to Kathleen. Terence heard before he was many
years old something about the plan that Peter and John had made, that
he and Kathleen