’twasn’t yours at all, but the banshee’s,” he says, chuckling.
Whether the hag was intentioned to welt Darby with her staff, or whether she was only liftin’ it for to make a sign of enchantment in the air, will never be known, but whatsomever she meant the hayro doubled his fists an’ squared off; at that she lowered the stick, an’ broke into a shrill, cackling laugh.
“Ho, ho!” she laughed, houldin’ her sides, “but aren’t ye the bould, distinguishable man. Becourse ’tis the banshee’s comb; how well ye knew it! Be the same token I’m sint to bring it away; so make haste to give it up, for she’s hiding an’ waiting for me down at Chartres’ mill. Aren’t you the courageous blaggard, to grabble at her, an’ thry to ketch her. Sure, such a thing never happened before, since the worruld began,” says Sheelah.
The idee that the banshee was hiding an’ afeared to face him was great news to the hayro. But he only tossed his head an’ smiled shuparior as he made answer.
“’Tis yourself that knows well, Sheelah Maguire, ma’am,” answers back the proud man, slow an’ dayliberate, “that whin one does a favour for an un-
