"Now wan of you men go down there
an' see!"

No one moved. Every eye was fixed on the pigsty. A long-drawn-out,
mournful cry was heard. It was all that tradition had described as the
cry of the Banshee.

"The Banshee it is! Ah, merciful God, which ov us is t' b' tuk, I
wondther?" It was Eliza who spoke, and she continued, directing her
talk to Anna, "An' it's th' long arm ov th' Almighty it is raychin' down
t' give us a warnin', don't ye think so now, Anna?"

"If it's wan arm of God, I know where th' other is, 'Liza!" Addressing
the terror-stricken watchers, Anna said:

"Stand here, don't budge, wan of ye!"

Along the sides of the houses in the deep shadow Anna walked until she
got to the end of the row; just around the corner stood the sty. In the
shadow she stood with her back to the wall and waited. The watchers were
breathless and what they saw a minute later gave them a syncope of the
heart that they never forgot. They saw the white figure emerge again and
they saw Anna stealthily approach and enter into what they thought was a
struggle with it. They gasped when they saw her a moment later bring the
white figure along with her. As she came nearer it looked limp and
pliable, for it hung over her arm.

"It's that divil, Ben Green!" she said as she threw a white sheet at
their feet.

"Hell roast 'im on a brandther!" said one.

"The divil gut 'im like a herrin'!" said another. Four of the younger
men, having been shamed by their own cowardice, made a raid on the sty,
and next day when Ben came to the funeral he looked very much the worse
for wear.

Ben was a friend of Henry's and a good deal of a practical joker. Anna
heard of what happened and she directed that he be one of the four men
to lower the coffin into the grave, as a moiety of consolation. Johnny
Murdock made strenuous objections to this.

"Why?" Anna asked.

"Bekase," he said, "shure th' divil nearly kilt Kitty be th' fright!"

"But she was purty comfortable th' rest of th' time?"

"Oh, aye."

"Ye lifted a gey big burden from 'er heart last night, didn't ye,
Johnny?"

"Aye; an' if ye won't let on I'll tell ye, Anna." He came close and
whispered into her ear: "Am goin' t' thry danged hard t' take th' heart
as well as th' throuble!"

"What diz Kitty think?"

"She's switherin'."

CHAPTER VI

THE APOTHEOSIS OF HUGHIE THORNTON

Anna was an epistle to Pogue's entry and my only excuse for dragging
Hughie Thornton into this nar