When the chief opened the door of the cottage, there was no one to be seen within. The fire was burning hot and flameless; a three-footed pot stood half in it; other sign of presence they saw none. As Alister stooped searching for some implement to serve their need, in shot a black cat, jumped over his back, and disappeared. The same instant they heard a groan, and then first discovered the old woman in bed, seemingly very ill. Ian went up to her.
"What is the matter with you, Mistress Conal?" he asked, addressing her in English because of the ladies.
But in reply she poured out a torrent of Gaelic, which seemed to the girls only grumbling, but was something stronger. Thereupon the chief went and spoke to her, but she was short and sullen with him. He left her to resume his search.
"Let alone," she cried. "When that nail leaves her brog, it will be for your heart."
Ian sought to soothe her.
"She will bring misery on you all!" she insisted.
"You have a hammer somewhere, I know!" said Alister, as if he had not heard her.
"She shall be finding no help in MY house!" answered the old woman in English.
"Very well, Mistress Conal!" returned the chief; "the lady cannot walk home; I shall have to carry her!"
"God forbid!" she cried. "Go and fetch a wheelbarrow."