"Indeed they must wait until I churn, and I'll give them the buttermilk—until I buy a pig."
"It's the new milk you'll give the poor people," said the Buideach, "we can buy butter."
"I think you have lost your senses," says the mother. "You'll want the little share of riches which God sent you before I'm a year in the grave."
"How do you know but that I might not be in the grave before you?" said he; "but at all events God will send me my enough."
When they were talking there came a poor woman, and three children to the door and asked for alms in the honour of God and Mary.
"I have nothing for ye this time," said the widow.
"Don't say that, mother," said the Buideach. "I have alms to give in the name of God and His mother Mary." With that he went out and gave a gold piece to the poor woman, and said to his mother, "Milk the cow and give those poor children a drink."
"I will not," said the mother.
"Then I'll do it myself," said he.
He got the vessel, milked the cow, and gave lots of new milk to the poor children and to the woman. When they were gone away the mother said to him, "Your purse will be soon empty."