“That is the only thing I want done.”
“What’s the use of making a fool of me?”
“Am I demanding anything?”
When they had walked a few paces:
“What is it, after all!” said Patsy proudly.
He thrust his hands into his pockets and exhibited them full of gold and silver.
“Just a pitch of my hand and it’s gone!” said he.
“That is all,” said Caeltia. “It’s easily done.”
“So it is,” growled Patsy, and he swung his arm.
But he dropped the hand again.
“Wait a minute,” and he called Eileen Ni Cooley to his side.
“Walk with ourselves, Eileen, and don’t be a stranger. There’s something I want to show you.”
He opened his hand before her and it was flooding and flashing in gold.
She stared with the awe of one who looks on miracles.
“There’s a great deal of money there,” she gasped.
“There’s fifteen golden pounds and some shillings in it,” said Patsy, “and here’s all I care for them.”
He flung his hand then and sped the money at the full force of his shoulder.
“That’s all I care for the stuff,” said he, and he gripped her arm to prevent her bounding to its recovery.
“Come on, woman dear, and leave the ha’pence alone.”
Said Caeltia:
“There is something I must throw away also, for I am getting too fond of it.”
“What’s that?” said Mac Cann curiously.
“It’s this pipe,” the seraph replied, and he balanced it by the mouthpiece.
“Don’t throw away the good pipe,” cried Eileen Ni Cooley. “Am I walking beside a pair of wild men this day?”
Patsy interrupted also.
“Hold on for a minute. Give me the pipe and you can take this one.” He took Caeltia’s silver-mounted briar and he passed to the seraph his own blackened clay.
“You can throw that one away,” said he, and he popped Caeltia’s pipe into his own mouth.
“It will do that way,” said Caeltia sadly.
He held the pipe by the stem, and with a sharp movement snapped it in halves; the head fell to the ground and a small tight wad of burning tobacco jumped from it at the shock.
“There it is,” said Caeltia.
He jerked the piece of broken stem from his hand, and after sighing deeply they marched on.
Eileen Ni Cooley was angry.
“Padraig,” said she, “what made you throw all the golden money away, and the silver money?”
Patsy regarded her with the calm eye of a king.
“Stick your arm through mine, Eileen,” said he, “and let us be comfortable as we go along, for the pair of us haven’t had a talk for a long time, and Caeltia here wants to talk to you as well as me.”
“That is so,” said Caeltia.
Eileen did put her arm in his, and as they stepped briskly forward she stared at him with eyes that were round with admiration and astonishment.
“Aren’t you the queer man, Padraig!” said she.
“I suppose,” said Patsy, “that you’ll be slipping away from us some time tonight?”
“Not if you want me to stay, Padraig.”
They opened a new conversation on that.
XXXV
That day they did not stay their travel, even to eat.
Finaun was urgent, and they ate from their hands as they marched. The ass moved his slender legs briskly, the cart rumbled, and the metals in it clashed and thumped as the wheels jolted on the rutty path.
They met no person as they went.
From the fields near by came the fresh odour of wild grass that outbreathed again to the sun his living breath; and the sun shone, not fiercely, but kindly, tempering down the oblique ways his potent fire; above their heads and slanting away on wide wings the birds were sailing, calling a note as they went and calling again; here were trees once more; their grave shadows slept on the road, stamping the golden light with a die of ebony, and their grave voices whispered busily, quietly, like the voices of many mothers who fold against fruitful breasts the little children; so they crooned and sang rocking their ample greenery on the air.
In the afternoon they reached the hill, close to the top of which the angels’ finery was buried.
When they had ascended this hill for nearly an hour the donkey struck work.
He stood, and nothing would induce him to move further in that direction. Indeed, he slewed the cart completely round, and pointed his nose and his shafts in the direction which he considered reasonable.
They halted.
“He’ll not go up there,” said Mary, and she pulled the long nose to her bosom.
“He will not,” said her father. “Will you leave that ass alone, Mary. Give him back his snout and behave yourself like a Christian girl.”
“You leave me alone,” said Mary, “what harm am I doing to yourself?”
“It’s that I don’t like to see a woman kissing an ass.”
“Well, if you don’t look at me you won’t see anything.”
“You’re full of fun,” said her father sternly.
He shrugged his shoulders and turned to Finaun:
“He did this once before on us and we going up a tall hill in Connaught, and although I hammered the skin off his back he wouldn’t move a step; he’s a great ass, mind you, mister, and maybe we ought to have looked for a gentler way up this hill.”
Finaun was feeding tufts of grass to the donkey, and the donkey was eating these with appetite.
“There is no need to come further,” said Finaun. “We are almost in sight of the place and can make our adieus here.”
“Oh! we’ll leave the beast,” cried Mac Cann, “and we’ll all go up to see the last of you.”
“It is better that we should part here,” said Finaun gently. “We do not wish to be seen at the last.”
“You can have it your own way,” said Patsy sulkily.
Finaun stood towering over Mac Cann; he placed his hands on Patsy’s shoulders and solemnly blessed him in round language, then he kissed him tenderly on either cheek.
“Begor!” said Patsy.
And Finaun did the same for Eileen Ni Cooley and for Mary, and he
