Here Barnet smiled with ineffable contempt.

“What I’m tellin’ them is,” continued Mrs. Griffen, warming with her subject, “maybe that thing was a pairson that’s dead, an’ might be owin’ a pound to another one, or has something that way on his soul, an’ it’s in the want o’ some one that’ll ax it what’s throublin’ it.  The like o’ thim couldn’t spake till ye’ll spake to thim first.  But, sure, gerrls has no courage—­”

Barnet’s smile was again one of wintry superiority.

“Willy Fennessy and Patsey Crimmeen was afther seein’ it too last night,” went on Mrs. Griffen, “an’ poor Willy was as much frightened!  He said surely ‘twas a ghost.  On the back avenue it was, an’ one minute ‘twas as big as an ass, an’ another minute it’d be no bigger than a bonnive—­”

“Oh, the Lord save us!” wailed the kitchen-maid irrepressibly from the scullery.

“I shall speak to Fennessy myself about this,” said Mrs. Alexander, making for the door with concentrated purpose, “and in the meantime I wish to hear no more of this rubbish.”

“I’m sure Fennessy wishes to hear no more of it,” said Barnet acridly to Mrs. Griffen, when Mrs. Alexander had passed swiftly out of hearing, “after the way those girls have been worryin’ on at him about it all the morning.  Such a set out!”

Mrs. Griffen groaned in a polite and general way, and behind Barnet’s back put her tongue out of the corner of her mouth and winked at the kitchen-maid.

Mrs. Alexander found her conversation with Willy Fennessy less satisfactory than usual.  He could not give any definite account of what he and Patsey had seen:  maybe they’d seen nothing at all; maybe—­as an obvious impromptu—­it was the calf of the Kerry cow; whatever was in it, it was little he’d mind it, and, in easy dismissal of the subject, would the misthress be against his building a bit of a coal-shed at the back of the lodge while she was away?

That evening a new terror was added to the situation.  Jimmy the boot-boy, on his return from taking the letters to the evening post, fled in panic into the kitchen, and having complied with the etiquette invariable in such cases by having “a wakeness,” he described to a deeply sympathetic audience how he had seen something that was like a woman in the avenue, and he had called to it and it returned him no answer, and how he had then asked it three times in the name o’ God what was it, and it soaked away into the trees from him, and then there came something rushing in on him and grunting at him to bite him, and he was full sure it was the Fairy Pig from Lough Clure.

Day by day the legend grew, thickened by tales of lights that had been seen moving mysteriously in the woods of Craffroe.  Even the hounds were subpoenaed as witnesses; Patsey Crimmeen’s mother stating that for three nights after Patsey had seen that Thing they were singing and screeching to each other all night.