at night, as he turned, hungry and footsore, toward home, who should he meet up with on the cross-roads but the ould fairy doctor, Sheelah Maguire; well known was she as a spy for the Good People. She spoke up:
“Oh, then, you’re the foolish, blundherin’-headed man to be saying what you’ve said, and doing what you’ve done this day, Darby O’Gill,” says she.
“What do I care!” says he, fiercely. “I’d fight the divil for my beautiful cow.”
“Then go into Mrs. Hagan’s meadow beyant,” says Sheelah, “and wait till the moon is up. By an’ by ye’ll see a herd of cows come down from the mountain, and yer own’ll be among them.”
“What I’ll I do then?” asked Darby, his voice thrembling with excitement.
“Sorra a hair I care what ye do! But there’ll be lads there, and hundreds you won’t see, that’ll stand no ill words, Darby O’Gill.”
“One question more, ma’am," says Darby, as Sheelah was moving away. “How late in the night will they stay without?”
Sheelah caught him by the collar and, pulling his head close, whuspered:
