nothing of it, sat down at the fire and began warming himself.
"Where were you?" says the daughter to him.
"I was asleep a while," says he, "on the fresh grass in the field where they were making hay."
"What happened to you, then?" says she, "for you don't look well."
"Muirya,[1] musha, then," says he, "I don't know; but it's queer the feeling I have. I never was like it before; but I'll be better when I get a good sleep."
He went to his bed, lay down, and fell asleep, and never awoke until the sun was high. He rose up then and his wife said to him: "What was on you that you slept that long?"
"I don't know," says he.
He went down to the fire where the daughter was making a cake for the breakfast, and she said to him:
"How are you to-day, father; are you anything better?"
"I got a good sleep," said he, "but I'm not a taste better than I was last night; and indeed, if you'd believe me, I think there's something inside of me running back and forwards."
"Arrah, that can't be," says the daughter, "but it's a cold you got and you lying out on the fresh grass; and if you're not better in the evening we'll send for the doctor."
- ↑ "Oh, Mary," or "by Mary," an expression like the French "dame!"
