"Is it true, Alan? That ... over there ... is that true?"
"It is true, dear."
"Are you sure that a baby has come to Sorcha?"
"It is Himself that sent it."
"Alan, has it a soul?"
"A soul?... Yes, sure no evil eye is upon it, to the Stones be it said! But why do you ask that thing?"
The child sighed, but made no answer, her gaze wandering from Alan round the room, and then to where Sorcha lay.
"Why do you say that, Oona? It is not a safe thing to say: sure, it is not a good wishing. Who knows who may be hearing, though I wish evil to no one, banned or blest!"
"I see no one," Oona began calmly: "I see no one, and how can no one hear? But I will not be for saying an unlucky thing: sure, you know that, dear Alan. Happiness be in this house!... And, now, I will be going, Alan, for I...."
"Going? Hush-sh! wait, Oona, wait: sure, you will be wanting to see the little one?"