“Thanks be to God,” said the mother, when she came back. “It is curious how your talk and your walk came to you on the one day.”
“It is nearly always the case that ’tis together talk and walk come to a child; but now it is time for us to be providing something for the friends that are coming to-night.”
He went away then and asked the man who brought turf out of the reeks to the king’s castle to give him as much as would make fire for himself and his mother for the night.
“Go away,” said the man; “I will not give you a sod of turf. Go to the king and get an order; then I will give you turf in plenty.”
“I would not be tiring myself going for an order, but I will have plenty in spite of you.”
Micky took away then a great basket of turf and no thanks to the man.
“Well, mother,” said he, “here is turf enough for you, and make down a good fire.”
He went to the mill and said to the miller: “My mother sent me for flour. There will be three at the house to-night, and what will not be used will be brought to you in the morning.”
“You stump of a fool, why should I give you flour? Go to my master, the king; if he gives an order, I will give you flour in plenty.”