house, and in through the window, where its ind lay convaynient to his hand. A little pull on the twine would drag the stray piece of holly into the gap and close tight the outside ring.
It was a trap, you see. When the fairies walked in through the gap the twine was to be pulled, and so they were to be made prisoners between the two rings of holly. They couldn’t get into Darby’s house because the circle of holly nearest the house was so tight that a fly couldn’t get through without touching the blessed tree or its wood. Likewise, when the gap in the outer wreath was closed, they couldn’t get out agin. Well, anyway, these things were hardly finished and fixed when the dusky brown of the hills warned the neighbours of twilight, and they scurried like frightened rabbits to their homes.
Only one amongst them all had courage to sit inside Darby’s house waiting the dreadful wisitors, and that one was Bob Broderick. What vengeance was in store couldn’t be guessed at all, at all, only it was sure to be more turrible than any yet wreaked on mortal man.
Not in Darby’s house alone was the terror, for in their anger the Good People might lay waste the whole
