‘An’ in the name of the Unknown Powers, what sort of a man is he Himself if his baby is that big?’
‘He’s very big an’ powerful,’ says she. ‘An’ the child is favourin’ the father.’
She was baking barley bread, and when the baking was done at her, she took the griddle and put it between two cakes of bread, and gave it to the Buggane to eat, with a quart of buttermilk. He went to try and eat, and he couldn’.
‘Aw, man-alive! But this is the hard bread,’ says he. ‘What sort have you given me at all, at all?’
‘That’s the sort I’m giving Finn,’ says she.
‘An’ will Finn’s teeth go through this?’
‘Aw, yes, Finn thought nothing at all of ’atin’ that—that’s the sort of bread he was wantin’,’ says Thrinn.
Finn got up out of the cradle, and began to roar for a piece. She fetched him a clout on the lug.
‘Stop your noisin’,’ says she. ‘An’ stand straight and don’t be puttin’ the drone on yer back like that.’ And givin’ him a buttercake, she says:
‘Ate, ate, lash into ye, an’ let’s have no lavins.’