“O shepherd boy,” they said, “the Keeper of the Key is also our enemy.  We were created for something better than this narrow shaft.  We cry out in bitter pain the long hours of the night.”

“Why do you cry out in bitter pain?” asked the shepherd boy.

“Because,” said the spirits of the Seven Sisters, “we want to leap out of this cold place to meet our lover, the moon.  Every night he comes calling to us and we dare not respond.  We are locked away under the heavy lid.  We can never gather our full strength to burst our way to liberty.  We dream of the pleasant valley.  We want to get out into it, to make merry about the trees, to sport in the warm places, to lip the edge of the green meadows, to water pleasant gardens.  We want to see the flowers, to flash in the sun, to dance under the spread of great branches, to make snug, secret places for the pike and the otter, to pile up the coloured pebbles, and hear the water-hen splashing in the rushes.  And above all, we want to meet our lover, the moon, to roll about in his beams, to reach for his kiss in the harvest nights.  O shepherd boy, take us from our prison well!”

“O Seven Sisters,” asked the shepherd boy, “how can I do this for you?”

“Secure the secret key,” they said.  “Open the lid while we are at our full strength in the night.”

“Alas,” said the shepherd boy, “that I cannot do.  The Keeper has made of it a magic thing.”

“We know his great secret,” said the spirits of the Seven Sisters.  “Swear to set us free and we shall tell you the secret of the key.”

“And what reward shall I have?” asked the shepherd boy.

“You shall have the hand of the daughter of the Keeper of the Key, the Lady of your Songs,” they said.  “Take her back to the hills where you were so happy.  We shall spare you when we are abroad.”

“Then,” said the shepherd boy, “I swear to release you.”

“The Keeper of the Key,” said the spirits of the Seven Sisters, “has a devil lurking behind the fine manners of his body.  In secret he laughs at the people.  He has the blood of the five goldsmiths on his hands.  It was by his connivance the curragh sprang a leak, and that they were drowned.  They were true artists, of the spirit of the Gael.  But they alone knew his secret, and he made away with them before they could speak.  His great controversy on the water nymphs was like a spell cast over the minds of the people to cover his crime.”

“What a demon!” cried the shepherd boy.

“The key of the well,” said the spirits of the Seven Sisters, “is concealed in the great golden knob of the oaken door, and upon that has concentrated the greatest public scrutiny which has ever beaten upon a door-knob in the story of the whole world.  Such has been the craft of the Keeper of the Key!  When he comes out in the morning and evening, and while drawing the door after him, he puts a finger on the third toe of the fourth water nymph.  This