"Faith, Terrance has just been saying what a gentle creature ye are," says Seumas.

"Sure, if I had my way, I'd put a sup of water in the mouth of you and set you over the fire till it boiled. That for my gentleness and your blarney!" says she, planting her fists on her hips.

warmed by the hate that is natural between husband and wife. Away we'll go, singing and fighting and love-making, and many's the night he'll be stiff with the drink in him, glory be to God!" Seumas waits for a week and a day. It's night when he comes to the house, and the turf fire is glowing. Through

"When you find me paying you compliments," says Seumas, "you can pluck feathers from a tom-cat's tail, and that will be never. Why cannot you leave your husband alone, like a decent married woman?"

"Who are you, to tell me what to do or not do?"

"If it hadn't been for myself, you would never have had him."

"Indeed and wisha! Sure and I'm thanking you this day!" and she makes him a curtsey.

"Butter, ye say?"

"Sure, I told Terrance to butter your feet, may God forgive me for it! Your love is nothing but butter-'tis nought but a charm-and now that you know it, the charm will be broken, and you can go traipsing and trolloping the way nature intended."

"Butter my feet, is it? I'll butter your head with a three-legged stool!"

She doubles her fists and is around the hedge after him, but Seumas is dancing away from her, a grin on his face and hope beating high in his heart.

"Sure, the charm will be broken, now that she knows of it," says he to himself, "and my conscience will not have to carry that sin. He'll throw the pot and she'll throw the kettle, and they'll be

In the glow of the turves sits Terrance and Shiela is sitting beside him, she sewing and Terrance peeling potatoes, a smock round his neck.

"The look on the face of him!" says Seumas, and back to the window he steps.

Under his foot a stick crackles. Shiela opens the door.

"Sure, I thought I heard some one," says she. "And is it yourself? Why aren't you knocking? Why don't you come in like a friend and see Terrance and me?"

"Faith, it wouldn't be Terrance I'd see! Is it a sheep or a woman you've made of him, with the smock round his neck?"

Shiela closes the door and steps out. "Have ye noticed the change?" "Parish church in clear daylight is not as plain as his face! 'Tis the face of a man that pays taxes, 'tis a face that fears rain and the neighbors' opinions, 'tis a face with a pain in its back that needs rubbing, 'tis contented and empty and soft-like and dead without knowing it! "Tis a face that is waiting for its own wake! Musha! Musha! What have ye done?"

"Sure, while he was sleeping I buttered his feet, and this night I am thanking ye, Seumas!"

"Oh, Terrance is done for! I've lost him. I've lost him! Achone! Achone!"

Away goes Seumas. Under the stars he goes till he comes to a river and he sits on a stone and takes out his knife to pick his teeth and think.

"Ach, to be married and live happily ever after is a devil of a life! Never a drink in you, nor a song out of you, nor a day's hunting, nor a night of wild loving under the stars. There's neither marrying nor giving in marriage in heaven, and that's why it is heaven and, sure, heaven is a great place for songs.

"One jab of the knife, and my troubles would all be over, my life running into the river and the river not rising at all. Terrance's soul will go out at the door at the time that's appointed, and Shiela's soul will go out at the window, and the charm will be loosed.

"I would be on ahead, preparing a place for him, stringing the harp, putting a patch on the bagpipes, and setting out the bowl. Maybe the Holy Saints will give me a harp that never needs stringing and a bowl that never goes

dry. Maybe Terrance will play on bagpipes filled with the winds that blow between the worlds.

"From afar off, I'll see him coming, and shout to him, and he'll shout back to me. Maybe he'll fetch me a clout to show how well he knows me. Maybe he'll break my head under the eyes of Almighty God!"

The knife slips and strikes him and splashes into the river.

"Sure," says Seumas, sucking his wrist, "I've been a long journey while sitting on the stone-to heaven and back again—and treated with great honor and respect by everybody, by Saint Peter on his golden throne and the lesser Saints in their niches like dog-kennels. 'Tis dead I've been and resurrected, without waiting for the third day.

"Terrance is gone, but somewhere I'll find another laddie-buck, and if I don't, I'm good company for myself. Faith, heaven is only for them that can't get out of it. I'm glad I came back."

And under the stars goes Seumas, whistling a tune.