'Cattle and gold, store and goods,
They pass away like the high floods.'
It was Raftery, the blind man, said that. I never saw him; but my father used to be talking of him.
Martin. I don't care what he said. I wish we had goods and store. He said the exact contrary another time:—
'Brogues in the fashion, a good house,
Are better than the bare sky over us.'
Mary. Poor Raftery! he'd give us all that if he had the chance. He was always a good friend to the poor. I heard them saying the other day he was lying in his sickness at some place near Killeenan, and near his death. The Lord have mercy on him!
Martin. The Lord have mercy on him, indeed. Come now, Mary, eat the first bit in your own house. I'll take the eggs off the fire.
(He gets up and goes to the fire. There is a knock at the half-door, and an old ragged, patched fiddler puts in his head.)
Fiddler. God save all here!
Mary (standing up). Aurah, the poor man, bring him in.
Martin. Let there be sense on you, Mary; we have not anything at all to give him. I will tell him the way to the Brennans' house: there will be plenty to find there.