Who was she? In her present mood, with her mind running on one subject, Bridget could have no uncertainty. It was the Collister girl! It must be! What had she been doing down there? In her own walk through life Bridget had never stepped aside, therefore she was severe on those who had. There was only one thing that could bring a girl out of bed in the middle of the night to a place like that. The slut! The strumpet!
When Will Skillicorne reached home half-an-hour afterwards he was carrying a wisp of straw. With this he was to make the sign of the cross on the back of the sick cow, and say some good words about St. Patrick and St. Bridget, giving it at the same time a hot drink of meal and water.
"But the craythur is better these three hours," said Bridget.
"Praise the Lord!" said Will. "That must have been the very minute the good man came down from his bed to me in his flannel drawers!"
"But did thou meet anybody as thou was coming up the glen?"
"Maybe I did."
"Was it a woman?"
"It's like it was, now."
"Did she go into the mill-house?"
"I believe in my heart she did, though."