Mhuire as truagh!"
Teig put his fingers deep in his ears. "A million murdthering curses on
them that won't let me be! Can't a man try to keep what is his without
bein' pesthered by them that has only idled an' wasted their days?"
And then the strange thing happened: hundreds and hundreds of wee
lights began dancing outside the window, making the room bright; the
hands of the clock began chasing each other round the dial, and the
bolt of the door drew itself out. Slowly, without a creak or a cringe,
the door opened, and in there trooped a crowd of the Good People. Their
wee green cloaks were folded close about them, and each carried a rush
candle.
Teig was filled with a great wonderment, entirely, when he saw the
fairies, but when they saw him they laughed.
"We are takin' the loan o' your cabin this night, Teig," said they. "Ye
are the only man hereabout with an empty hearth, an' we're needin' one."
Without saying more, they bustled about the room making ready. They
lengthened out the table and spread and set it; more of the Good People
trooped in, bringing stools and food and drink. The pipers came last,
and they sat themselves around the chimney-piece a-blowing their
chanters and trying the drones. The feasting began and the pipers
played and never had Teig seen such a sight in his life.
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