A month went by after that without anything worth mentioning, until one night Paudyeen went down to the cellar, and the little man said to him: “My mother is dead; burn the house over her.”
“It is true for you,” said Paudyeen. “She told me that she hadn’t but a month to be on the world, and the month was up yesterday.”
On the morning of the next day Paudyeen went to the hut and he found the hag dead. He put a coal under the hut and burned it. He came home and told the little man that the hut was burnt. The little man gave him a purse and said to him; “This purse will never be empty as long as you are alive. Now, you will never see me more; but have a loving remembrance of the weasel. She was the beginning and the prime cause of your riches.” Then he went away and Paudyeen never saw him again.
Paudyeen O’Kelly and his wife lived for years after this in the large house, and when he died he left great wealth behind him, and a large family to spend it.
There now is the story for you, from the first word to the last, as I heard it from my grandmother.
UILLIAM O RUANAIĠ.
Ann san aimsir i n-allód ḃí fear ann dar ab ainm Uilliam O Ruanaiġ, ’nna ċóṁnuiḋe i ngar do Ċlár-Gailliṁ. Bí sé ’nna ḟeilméar. Áon lá aṁain ṫáinig an tiġearna-talṁan ċuige agus duḃairt, “Tá cíos tri bliaḋain agam ort, agus muna mbéiḋ sé agad dam faoi ċeann seaċtṁaine caiṫfiḋ mé amaċ air ṫaoiḃ an ḃóṫair ṫu.”
“Táim le dul go Gailliṁ amáraċ le h-ualaċ cruiṫneaċta do ḋíol, agus nuair a ġeoḃas mé a luaċ íocfaiḋ mé ṫu,” ar Liam.
Air maidin, lá air na ṁáraċ, ċuir sé ualaċ cruiṫneaċta air an g-cairt agus ḃí sé dul go Gailliṁ leis. Nuair ḃí sé timċioll míle go leiṫ imṫiġṫe o’n teaċ, ṫáinig duine-uasal ċuige agus d’ḟiafruiġ sé dé “An cruiṫneaċt atá agad air an g-cairt?”