"Don't be angry with me, Mary," said she; "I never did you any harm yet and I'll never be able to do it now, for there are years between us, and they're going to break my back."
Finaun was speaking, more, it seemed, to himself than to the company. He combed his white beard with his hand as he spoke, and they all looked at him.
"He is talking in his sleep," said Eileen pensively, "and he an old man, and a nice old man."
"My father," said Caeltia, in an apologetic voice; "there is no need to tell about that."
"There is every need, my beloved," replied Finaun with his slow smile.
"I would rather you did not," murmured Caeltia, lifting his hand a little.
"I ask your permission, my son," said Finaun gently.
Caeltia spread out his open palms and dropped them again.
"Whatever you wish to do is good, my father," and, with a slight blush, he slid the pipe into his pocket.
Finaun turned to Eileen Ni Cooley: