The boy did so, and the Leprecaun took the measure of his foot with a wooden rule.
“Now, Brigid Beg, show me your foot,” and he measured her also. “They’ll be ready for you in the morning.”
“Do you never do anything else but make shoes, sir?” said Seumas.
“We do not,” replied the Leprecaun, “except when we want new clothes, and then we have to make them, but we grudge every minute spent making anything else except shoes, because that is the proper work for a Leprecaun. In the night time we go about the country into people’s houses and we clip little pieces off their money, and so, bit by bit, we get a crock of gold together, because, do you see, a Leprecaun has to have a crock of gold so that if he’s captured by men folk he may be able to ransom himself. But that seldom happens, because it’s a great disgrace altogether to be captured by a man, and we’ve practiced so long dodging among the roots here that we can easily get away from them. Of course, now and again we are caught; but men are fools, and we always escape without having to pay the ransom at all. We wear green clothes because it’s the colour of the grass and the leaves, and when we sit down under a bush or lie in the grass they just walk by without noticing us.”
“Will you let me see your crock of gold?” said Seumas.
The Leprecaun looked at him fixedly for a moment.
“Do you like griddle bread and milk?” said he.
“I like it well,” Seumas answered.
“Then you had better have some,” and the Leprecaun took a piece of griddle bread from the shelf and filled two saucers with milk.
While the children were eating the Leprecauns asked them many questions “What time do you get up in the morning?”