"'Is that th' Lepracaun?' says I. 'If it is I want m' three wishes.' 'Get thim out,' says he, 'fur I'm gey busy th' night.'
"'Soun' slape th' night an' safe journey th' morra,' says I.
"'Get yer third out or I'm gone,' says he.
"I scratched m' head an' swithered, but divil a third cud I think ov. Jist as he was goin', 'Oh,' says I, 'I want a pig fur this sty!'
"'Ye'll git him!' says he, an' off he wint."
Here was something, after all, that gave us more excitement than a Banshee story. We had a sty. We had hoped for years for a pig. We had been forced often to use some of the sty for fuel, but in good times Jamie had always replaced the boards. This was a real vision and we were satisfied. Jamie's faith in Hughie soared high at the time, but a few months later it fell to zero. Anna with a twinkle in her eye would remind us of Hughie's prophecy. One day he wiped the vision off the slate.
"T' h—l wi' Hughie!" he said. "Some night he'll come back an' slape there, thin we'll haave a pig in th' sty shure!"
As he left our house that morning he was greeted in a most unusual manner by a score of people who crowded the entry. Men and women gathered around him. They inspected the wounds. They gave their blessing in as many varieties as there were people present. The new attitude toward the beggar baffled us. Generally he was considered a good deal of a nuisance and something of a fraud, but that morning he was looked upon as a saint—as one inspired, as one capable of bestowing benedictions on the young and giving "luck" to the old. Out of their penury and want they brought gifts of food, tobacco, cloth for patches and needles and thread. He was overwhelmed and over-burdened, and as his mission of gathering food for a few weeks was accomplished, he made for the town head when he left the entry.
The small crowd grew into a big one and he was the center of a throng as he made his way north. When he reached the town well, Maggie McKinstry had several small children in waiting and Hughie was asked to give them a blessing. It was a new atmosphere to him, but he bungled through it. The more unintelligible his jabbering, the more assured were the recipients of his power to bless. One of the boys who stoned him was brought by his father to ask forgiveness.
"God save ye kindly," Hughie said to him. "Th' woonds ye made haave been turned into blessin's galore!" He came in despised. He went out a saint.