“I am going to bed,” said the Thin Woman, “your stirabout is on the hob.”
“Are there lumps in it, my dear?” said the Philosopher.
“I hope there are,” replied the Thin Woman, and she leaped into bed.
That night the Philosopher was afflicted with the most extraordinary attack of rheumatism he had ever known, nor did he get any ease until the grey morning wearied his lady into a reluctant slumber.
CHAPTER VI
The Thin Woman of Inis Magrath slept very late that morning, but when she did awaken her impatience was so urgent that she could scarcely delay to eat her breakfast. Immediately after she had eaten she put on her bonnet and shawl and went through the pine wood in the direction of Gort na Cloca Mora. In a short time she reached the rocky field, and, walking over to the tree in the southeast corner, she picked up a small stone and hammered loudly against the trunk of the tree. She hammered in a peculiar fashion, giving two knocks and then three knocks, and then one knock. A voice came up from the hole.
“Who is that, please?” said the voice.
“Ban na Droid of Inis Magrath, and well you know it,” was her reply.
“I am coming up, Noble Woman,” said the voice, and in another moment the Leprecaun leaped out of the hole.
“Where are Seumas and Brigid Beg?” said the Thin Woman sternly.