“How much money did you get for the cow?” she asked.
Barney made no answer to this, but he untied his handkerchief, and let the little mouse step out on the table. It had a cocked hat under its arm, and with its claws on its hip, he made a grand bow to the old woman. She could do nothing but stare and grin with admiration. Then Barney put the cockchafer and the harp on the table too, and as soon as it had tuned up, it began to play, and the tune was so gay that the very heart danced in the bosom. The mouse began to dance and twirl and jig up and down, and Barney and his mother stood and laughed until they almost split their sides.
But after the tune was all played out, the old woman came to herself again; an angry soul was she. She fell to crying just as hard as she had laughed before, for the white cow was gone, and the brindled cow was gone, and the landlord no nearer to being paid than he had been two days before.
But the money they must have, and there was nothing for it but that Barney must set off the next day for the fair with the red cow, and she was the finest of the three.
He trudged along, driving it before him, and after a while he came to the stile, and there was the little man in green seated on it.
“Good-day to you, Barney,” said he.
Barney answered never a word.
“That’s a fine cow you have there.”
Barney trudged along as though he had not heard him, and never so much as turned his head.