"Fill my pipe," said he. She filled it.
"And what I am thinking," said she, "is that I could be a great help to you when you'd want it, that I could keep your clothes in order for you, that I could....."
She glanced at him. His big shaggy head was resting against the back of the chair, his eyes were shut and his feet were up on the mantelpiece. She did not interrupt his thoughts—if thinking he was—as she thought perhaps that he intended giving in to her.
At last he opened his mouth. He closed it again and nose and chin nearly met. Chin and mouth parted slightly—you could just put your little finger in between—and the Captain began to snore.
"It is time for you to go to bed," said his wife.
"I think you're about right," said he, and he went up.
But his wife was able to fool the Captain any time she liked. The greatest deeds are done unknown to the world, she would often say, and when she played her tricks on him, he had no suspicion that she was doing so.
Next morning she got up at eight o'clock. She awakened Maire Bán and the Burla, washed and dressed them, and putting half an oat cake in the hand of each, she told them to be moving.
The Captain's wife was a powerful walker.
