“Fear me not,” said the man. “I wish to know if you are of the dead or the living, and what sort are you.”
“I am a living person, though I may seem like one from the dead.”
“Where do you live?”
“I have no house or home save a small hut in the forest, and I have the look of a beast because I eat fruits and leaves of trees and grass of the earth.”
The man told the king, and the king said, “Tell the woman to-morrow that I will give her a house of some kind to live in.”
The king gave the strange woman a house, and she went to live with her son in it. The son was seven years old at that time, and not able to walk or speak, although he was larger than any giant. His mother had called him Micky, and soon he was known as Micky Mor (Big Micky).
She was there for awhile in the house with her son, and she taking doles of food like any poor person. One fine summer day she was sitting at the doorstep, and she began to weep and lament.
“What is the cause of your crying?” asked the boy, who had never spoken before till that moment.
“God’s help be with us,” said the mother. “It is time for you to get speech. Thank God you are able to talk now.”