last we came to a bedroom,
with a beautiful lady in bed, with a fine bouncing boy beside her. The
lady clapped her hands, and in came the Dark Man and kissed her and the
baby, and praised me, and gave me a bottle of green ointment to rub the
child all over.

'Well, the child I rubbed, sure enough; but my right eye began to smart,
and I put up my finger and gave it a rub, and then stared, for never in
all my life was I so frightened. The beautiful room was a big, rough
cave, with water oozing over the edges of the stones and through the
clay; and the lady, and the lord, and the child weazened, poverty-bitten
creatures--nothing but skin and bone--and the rich dresses were old
rags. I didn't let on that I found any difference, and after a bit says
the Dark Man, "Go before me, to the hall door, and I will be with you in
a few moments, and see you safe home." Well, just as I turned into the
outside cave, who should I see watching near the door but poor Molly.
She looked round all terrified, and says she to me in a whisper, "I'm
brought here to nurse the child of the king and queen of the fairies;
but there is one chance of saving me. All the court will pass the cross
near Templeshambo next Friday night, on a visit to the fairies of Old
Ross. If John can catch me by the hand or cloak when I ride by, and has
courage not to let go his grip, I'll be safe. Here's the king. Don't
open your mouth to answer. I saw what happened with the ointment."

'The Dark Man didn't once cast his eye towards Molly, and he seemed to
have no suspicion of me. When we came out I looked about me, and where
do you think we were but in the dyke of the Rath of Cromogue. I was on
the horse again, which was nothing but a big rag-weed, and I was in
dread every minute I'd fall off; but nothing happened till I found
myself in my own cabin. The king slipped five guineas into my hand as
soon as I was on the ground, and thanked me, and bade me good-night. I
hope I'll never see his face again. I got into bed, and couldn't sleep
for a long time; and when I examined my five guineas this morning, that
I left in the table drawer the last thing, I found five withered leaves
of oak--bad luck to the giver!'

Well, you may all think the fright, and the joy, and the grief the poor
man was in when the woman finished her story. They talked and they
talked, but we needn't mind what they said till Friday night came, when
both were standing where the mountain road crosses th