"Of the house that stood close by this house. I had a dream last night that it moved away, and that the little cat with which I played had also gone, and I want to go after them."
"You talk nonsense, Ulick. How can a house made of bricks and mortar and heavy beams of wood move away?"
"That I know not; but it is gone. I hear it now rumbling away in the distance, as if it were on great wheels—I do really," answered Ulick.
"the mother ... was kneeling beside a little child" ([p. 361]).
The old gentleman, who often came to chat with Ulick, and to try to teach him various things, felt quite vexed, and he folded up his paper, and shut up his camp-stool and went away.
When he had gone an old hen turned round and spoke to Ulick.
"You can hear us, for you have the right sort of ears, but the old man cannot. It is quite true: the house has gone."
"Where?"