Well, Pat looked at the fairy man’s shoes, that were the size of a baby’s, and he looked at his own feet; but not wishing to be uncivil, “Thank ye kindly, sir,” says he.  “And if your honour ’ll be good enough to put them on for me, maybe you won’t spoil the shape.”  For he thought to himself, “Small blame to me if the little gentleman can’t get them to fit.”

With that he sat down on the side of the Rath, and the fairy man put on the shoes for him, and no sooner did they touch Pat’s feet, than they became altogether a convenient size, and fitted him like wax.  And, more than that, when he stood up, he didn’t feel his blisters at all.

“Bring ’em back to the Rath at sunrise, Pat, my boy,” says the little man.

And as Pat was climbing over the ditch, “Look round, Pat,” says he.  And when Pat looked round, there were jewels and pearls lying at the roots of the furze-bushes on the ditch, as thick as peas.

“Will you help yourself, or take what’s given ye, Pat?” says the fairy man.

“Did I ever learn manners?” says Pat.  “Would you have me help myself before company?  I’ll take what your honour pleases to give me, and be thankful.”

The fairy man picked a lot of yellow furze-blossoms from the bushes, and filled Pat’s pockets.

“Keep ’em for love, Pat, me darlin’,” says he.

Pat would have liked some of the jewels, but he put the furze-blossoms by for love.

“Good-evening to your honour,” says he.

“And where are you going, Pat, dear?” says the fairy man.

“I’m going home,” says Pat.  And if the fairy man didn’t know where that was, small blame to him.

“Just let me dust them shoes for ye, Pat,” says the fairy man.  And as Pat lifted up each foot he breathed on it, and dusted it with the tail of his green coat.

“Home!” says he, and when he let go, Pat was at his own doorstep before he could look round, and his parcels safe and sound with him.

Next morning he was up with the sun, and carried the fairy man’s shoes back to the Rath.  As he came up, the little man looked over the ditch.

“The top of the morning to, your honour,” says Pat; “here’s your shoes.”

“You’re an honest boy, Pat,” says the little gentleman.  “It’s inconvenienced I am without them, for.  I have but the one pair.  Have you looked at the yellow flowers this morning?” he says.

“I have not, sir,” says Pat; “I’d be loth to deceive you.  I came off as soon as I was up.”

“Be sure to look when you get back, Pat,” says the fairy man, “and good luck to ye.”

With which he disappeared, and Pat went home.  He looked for the furze-blossoms, as the fairy man told him, and there’s not a word of truth in this tale if they weren’t all pure gold pieces.

Well, now Pat was so rich, he went to the shoemaker to order another pair of brogues, and being a kindly, gossiping boy, the shoemaker soon learned the whole story of the fairy man and the Rath.  And this so stirred up the shoemaker’s greed that he resolved to go the very next night himself, to see if he could not dance with the fairies, and have like luck.