No one moved. Every eye was fixed on the pigsty. A long-drawn-out, mournful cry was heard. It was all that tradition had described as the cry of the Banshee.
"The Banshee it is! Ah, merciful God, which ov us is t' b' tuk, I wondther?" It was Eliza who spoke, and she continued, directing her talk to Anna, "An' it's th' long arm ov th' Almighty it is raychin' down t' give us a warnin', don't ye think so now, Anna?"
"If it's wan arm of God, I know where th' other is, 'Liza!" Addressing the terror-stricken watchers, Anna said:
"Stand here, don't budge, wan of ye!"
Along the sides of the houses in the deep shadow Anna walked until she got to the end of the row; just around the corner stood the sty. In the shadow she stood with her back to the wall and waited. The watchers were breathless and what they saw a minute later gave them a syncope of the heart that they never forgot. They saw the white figure emerge again and they saw Anna stealthily approach and enter into what they thought was a struggle with it. They gasped when they saw her a moment later bring the white figure along with her. As she came nearer it looked limp and pliable, for it hung over her arm.
"It's that divil, Ben Green!" she said as she threw a white sheet at their feet.
"Hell roast 'im on a brandther!" said one.
"The divil gut 'im like a herrin'!" said another. Four of the younger men, having been shamed by their own cowardice, made a raid on the sty, and next day when Ben came to the funeral he looked very much the worse for wear.
Ben was a friend of Henry's and a good deal of a practical joker. Anna heard of what happened and she directed that he be one of the four men to lower the coffin into the grave, as a moiety of consolation. Johnny Murdock made strenuous objections to this.
"Why?" Anna asked.