“Why, sir,” replied Barney, who was present, “the Banshee—the Lord prevent us from hearin' her—is always the forerunner of death. She attends only certain families—principally the ould Milesians, and mostly Catholics, too; although, I believe, it's well known that she sometimes attends Protestants whose families have been Catholics or Milesians, until the last of the name disappears. So that, afther all, it seems she's not over-scrupulous about religion.”
“But what do you mean by attending families?” asked Woodward; “what description of attendance or service does she render them?”
“Indeed, Mr. Harry,” replied Barney, “anything but an agreeable attendance. By goxty, I believe every family she follows would be very glad to dispense with her attendance if they could.”
“But that is not answering my question, Casey.”
“Why, sir,” proceeded Barney, “I'll answer it. Whenever the family that she follows is about to have a death in it, she comes a little time before the death tikes place, sits either undher the windy of the sick bed or somewhere near the house, and wails and cries there as if her very heart would break. They say she generally names the name of the party that is to die; but there is no case known of the sick person ever recoverin' afther she has given the warnin' of death.”
“It is a strange and wild superstition,” observed Woodward.
“But a very true one, sir,” replied the cook; “every one knows that a Banshee follows the Goodwin family.”
“What! the Goodwins of Beech Grove?” said Harry.
“Yes, sir,” returned the cook; “they lost six children, and not one of them ever died that she did not give the warnin'.”
“If poor Miss Alice heard it,” observed Barney, “and she in the state she's in, she wouldn't live twenty-four hours afther it.”