“And is this all?” said Mick.
“No more,” said the stranger, forcing the bottle into Mick’s hand. Then he moved swiftly off after the cow.
Well, Mick, rather sick at heart, retraced his steps toward his cabin, and as he went he could not help turning his head to look after the little man; but he had vanished completely.
“He can’t belong to this earth,” exclaimed Mick in horror to himself. “But where is the cow?” She, too, was gone; and Mick hurried homeward muttering prayers and holding fast the bottle.
He soon reached his cabin, and surprised his wife sitting over the turf fire in the big chimney.
“Oh! Mick, are you come back?” said she. “Sure you weren’t at Cork all the way? What has happened to you? Where is the cow? Did you sell her? How much money did you get for her? What news have you? Tell us everything.”
“Why, then, Molly, if you’ll give me time, I’ll tell you all about it!”
“Oh! then, you sold her. Where’s the money?”
“Arrah! stop a while, Molly, and I’ll tell you all about it!”
“But what is that bottle under your waistcoat?” said Molly, seeing its neck sticking out.