SHIANA
21
have gathered together all the raimaishes[1] that you have in your head, or how you can keep account of them, you that are only thirteen up to May next. What is the story that is going on now, Sheila?
Sheila.—It's "Shiana," mother, but I think he's dead.
Mary.—I'll engage he's not, and that he won't be, till I don't know when.
Sheila.—Well then indeed he got a terrible fright. If I were in his place I'd be as dead as Art.[2]
Mary.—I thought there were five or six of you here. Where are the others?
Peg.—I think, mother, that they ran away from you.
Mary.—They need not have done that. Get up, Peg, my dear, and get us something to eat. Indeed, it is a great wonder you should have given this child such a fright. Listen to that sigh coming from her. I fancy she is asleep.
Sheila.—Ach, no, mother, I am not. I am not a bit sleepy. It doesn't matter a pin. Nobody gave me a fright. I did it myself. If I had not kept thinking of him so hard as I did, I wouldn't have seen him. I won't think of him any more, the thief! I don't know in the world, Peg, what made him give such a roar as that?
Peg.—Your supper is ready now, mother. Come here to me, Sheila, and let your mother eat her supper. There!
- ↑ ráiméis, nonsense; silly tales.
- ↑ Art mac Cuinn, one of the ancient Kings of Ireland.
