2
SHIANA
Peg.—Well, then, sit here near me, so that no one can pinch you unknown to me.
Kate.—I'll engage the cat will pinch her. You little hussy, we would be having a fine story but for you and your screeching.
Abbie.—Hush, Kate, or you'll make her cry and we'll have no story. If we make Peg angry she won't tell a story to-night. Now, Peg, everybody's quiet, waiting for a story from you.
Peg.—There was a man long ago, and his name was Shiana, and he was a shoemaker. He had a nice cosy little house at the foot of a hill, on the sheltered side. He had a soogaun[1] chair which he had made for himself, and he used to sit in it in the evening when the day's work was done, and when he sat in it he was very comfortable. He had a malvogue[2] of meal hanging up near the fire, and now and then he used to put his hand into it and take a handful of the meal, and chew it at his leisure. He had an apple-tree growing outside his door, and when he used to be thirsty from chewing the meal he would put his hand into the tree and take one of the apples, and eat it.
Sheila.—Oh, Peg, wasn't it nice!
Peg.—Which was nice, the chair or the meal or the apple?
Sheila.—The apple, to be sure.
Kate.—I would rather have the meal. The apple wouldn't take one's hunger away.
Abbie.—I would rather have the chair, and I would make Peg sit in it and tell stories.
