It proved to be Hughie's last visit to Antrim. His going out of life was a mystery, and as the years went by tradition accorded him an exit not unlike that of Moses. I was amongst those the current of whose lives were supposed to have been changed by the touch of his hand on that last visit. Anna alone knew the secret of his alleged sainthood. She was the author and publisher of it. That night when she left us with Hughie she gathered together in 'Liza Conlon's a few "hand-picked" people whose minds were as an open book to her. She told them that the beggar-man was of an ancient line, wandering the earth in search of the Holy Grail, but that as he wandered he was recording in a secret book the deeds of the poor. She knew exactly how the news would travel and where. One superstition stoned him and another canonized him.
"Dear," she said to me, many, many years afterwards. "A good thought will thravel as fast an' as far as a bad wan if it gets th' right start!"
CHAPTER VII
IN THE GLOW OF A PEAT FIRE
t's a quare world," Jamie said one night as we sat in the glow of a peat fire.
"Aye, 'deed yer right, Jamie," Anna replied as she gazed into the smokeless flames.
He took his short black pipe out of his mouth, spat into the burning sods and added: "I wondther if it's as quare t' everybody, Anna?"