“Why so? Don't we want them for the fire?”
“No matther for that; we don't want to bring 'the good people'—this day's Thursday, the Lord stand between us an' harm—amin!—about our ears. Out wid them.”
“No, the sorra branch.”
“Out wid them, I say, Are you afeard of neither God nor the divil?”
“Not overburdened with much fear of either o' them,” replied the daring young creature.
“Aren't you afeard o' the good people, then?”
“If they're good people, why should we be afeard o' them? No, I'm not.”
“Put the thorns out, I bid you again.”
“Divil a chip, mother dear; if your own evil conscience or your dirty cowardice makes you afeard o' the fairies, don't think I am. I don't care that about them. These same thorns must boil the dinner in spite of all the fairies in Europe; so don't fret either yourself or me on the head o' them.”
“Oh, I see what's to come! There's a doom over this house, that's all, an' over some, if not all o' them that's in it. Everything's leadin' to it; an' come it will.”