ing up at the black hill, “if the Good People are fallen angels, as some do be saying.
“Why were they banished from heaven? It must have been a great sin entirely they committed, at any rate, for at the same time they were banished the power to make a prayer was taken from them. That’s why to say a pious word to a fairy is like trowing scalding wather on him. ’Tis a hard pinnance that’s put on the poor crachures. I wisht I knew what ’twas for,” he says.
He was goin’ on pondherin’ in that way, while Terror was picking his steps, narvous, among the stones of the road, whin suddenly a frowning, ugly rock seemed to jump up and stand ferninst them at a turn of the path.
Terror shied at it, stumbled wild, and thin the most aggrewating of all bothersome things happened—the horse cast a shoe and wint stone lame.
In a second the priest had leaped to the ground and picked up the horseshoe.
“Wirra! Wirra!” says he, lifting the lame foot, “why did you do it, alannah? ’Tis five miles to a smith an’ seven miles to your own warm stable.”
The horse, for answer, raiched down an’ touched
