The lady began to speak, and her first words were words of thanks to Jamie.
The three inmates of the cabin had so much to say to one another, that long after cock-crow, when the fairy music had quite ceased, they were talking round the fire.
"Jamie," said the lady, "be pleased to get me paper and pen and ink, that I may write to my father, and tell him what has become of me."
She wrote, but weeks passed, and she received no answer. Again and again she wrote, and still no answer.
At length she said, "You must come with me to Dublin, Jamie, to find my father."
"I ha' no money to hire a car for you," he replied, "an' how can you travel to Dublin on your foot?"
But she implored him so much that he consented to set out with her, and walk all the way from Fannet to Dublin. It was not as easy as the fairy journey; but at last they rang the bell at the door of the house in Stephen's Green.
"Tell my father that his daughter is here," said she to the servant who opened the door.
"The gentleman that lives here has no daughter, my girl. He had one, but she died better nor a year ago."
"Do you not know me, Sullivan?"