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174 THE ‘SHAN
Half the girls in the countryside he named his own, and full
heartily theylaughed their acknowledgment of the distinc-
tion. “Ach,” they would say, “sure it’s the slewtherin’ way
the Masther has with him no girl that’s mortal could resist.
He’s the soul of a spree; an’ a weddin? without him might ‘
as well be a funeral, for the fun would be all gone out.”
“ Ha-ha-ha,” Father Dan had threateningly ejaculated to
him, once he found him slightly behind with the parish ac-
‘ counts, which it was an understood part of the Masther’s
duty to keep squared--“Ha-ha-ha! a purty fellow ye are.
What’s your meanin’ for this?” “Dearth of time, your re-
verence, dearth of time.” “ Ho-ho-ho, ye knave,” for Father
Dan never succumbed to the habit of castingaround for
ambiguous expressions--“ ye knave, ye have plenty of time
for all other sorts of tom-foolery then-And gallivantin’ ivith
every girl in the barony that wears a clean slip isn’t the least
of them, as far as I’m told.” “That I unbend my mind in
occasional pastime is true, Father Dan,eyou remember what
the poet indites- ' i
‘A little nonsense now and then
Is relished by the wisest men ’-
Father Dan being theone illustrious exception-that, in short,
is my defence, sir.” “ Faith then,” and Father Dan turned to
go as he said it, but leant back to shake the whip angrily at
him, “if men’s wisdom is to be judged by the amount of
tom-foolery they go through, you beat Solomon himself all
to sticks.” “,And there,” the Masther would say, as he
laughingly retailed the story, “Father Dan had me on two
spikes, for Solomon, good man, partitioned his heart among
seven hundred women.”
For years toying with spring-guns it were a miracle if he
should escape unhurt. ‘And, though he enjoyed a strange
immunity for long, the miracle just was not.
Ere yet Roisin Mac Cailin had reached the age that might
,. warrant her in the world’s eyes, which is to say the eyes of
the Bocht, raising up to herself an idol that she might clothe
with the warmth of her young affections, the Masther loved
to tease her with his attentions. In the rough setting of the
Bocht, Roisin Buizllze was as fair and sweet :1 thing as the
springtime harebell that bowed on therude crest of Cron-
araidh. She was the joy of the women. The artist eye of
the Masther saw with pleasure the beauty of the child, and
in his own way, half jest, half earnest, he delighted to bring
her homage.
On evenings when a bountiful sun was rolling down the
blue sky of the Bocht--we had our storms and our glooms,
but when he would the sun was lavish, and the great Painter
gave us colour to intoxication-Roisin carried her wheel across
the road, and with her little bare foot plied it beneath
the tall bore-trees that clustered there. She wrought
the wheel with wonderful industry, but lightened the
work by crooning, and competing in song against the
l
, circumstance.
VAN VOCHT.
robins in the branches "above. The Masther frequently
strolled this way, and finding Roisin and her wheel
beneath the bore-trees he builded himself a low seat,‘
with iiags from the fence, just facing the fair mechanic,
and despite her imperative forbidding; and looking up to her
from his lowly place, he jested her into a well-counterfeited
rage, the bore-tree leaves all thaime weaving stray sunbeams
in a mystic net-work that quivered over and around them, as
with delight at ensnaring a. prey.e“Do ye know Roisin
avourneen what has got into my "mind of late?” “ No, nor
do I care : if the wurrl’ gave me as small trouble as your mind,
it’s a light-hearted girl I’d be,” sighing the heart-heavy sigh
of a world-weary matron. “ Well, it’s got into my mind, Roi-
sin, and it’s imparting to me a universe of meditative mood-
what you would probably call a world of .thought-that
whereas the Good People usually contrive to bear off
a beautiful infant, and replace it by a plain-looking, dying
creature, these Little People must have been overmatched
for onceeeyour mother imposed on tliem a sickly infant, ‘and
tilched from them your enchanting and enchanted self in its
stead.” . “ Didn’t I order ye go away with ye, and‘ take yerself
off out 0’ this already, Masther Whoriskeyeyoudl tempt me
to take the stool to ye.” “And there I have supreme pleasure
in bidding you detiance-If a Human only cuts the sign of the
cross between him and one of your sort, ye are powerless-
powerless, Madam, I repeat. And I say again, and dare you
to deny, that you’re not yourself but a Fairy. It’s entirely use-
less for ye to deny it, for don’t I know it by every sign and
Where did ye get that head of hair? It was
the rays stolen by your people from the sun-dawneOh, ye
needn’t turn up that little nose now in scorn if ye see ye’re
discovered at self. -And where did ye get that breath? Sur-
reptitiously conveyed from the heather. And those eyes?
Ah, say if ye dare they are of this earth! Well, droop those
enchanting lashes over them if you will, and you only pile
proof on proof. And what a foot! ‘Ho-ho-ho! your skirt
is not mature enough to conceal that, try as you may-but,
sure I’ll get ye a rose-leaf to lay over it if you think it wouldn’t
hurt it.” " Will yes get away with yerself,. I ask ye
again, Masther Whoriskey, or else, upon my word, ye’1l be
sorry for it.” “ Oh, by my faith, an’ Madam I wouldn’t mis-
doubt ye-I wouldn’t misdoubt ye at all, Madam, but you’d g
be getting THEM to lay spells on me. Bgt you’d better keep
a quiet tongue in your head, or I’ll be after gettin’ Father Dan
to come with his book an’ his stole, an’ read at ye-an’
then it isn’t long till the murder ’il1 out, an’ the parish ’ill be
entertained to a nine days’ wonder. Keep a quiet tongue
now, an’ ye’ll thereby demonstrate yourself wise in your gene-
ration.”
Two robins overhead broke off the carols they were trolling,
and bent their heads to hear ; but they were quickly at the
business of their life again when the Masther, taking his flute
.
i'."“‘ >,‘
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