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He arose, put on his muffler and made ready to visit the sweep. On the way to the door another idea turned him back. He put on the bogman's overcoat and rabbit-skin cap. Anna, divining his intention, said: "That's th' first sign of sense I've see in you for a month of Sundays." "Ye cudn't see it in a month ov Easther Sundays, aanyway," he retorted with a superior toss of his head.
"Can't ye fix up that oul craither's head a bit?" Jamie asked. I brought over the bogman's coat. Anna made a pillow of it and placed it under his head. He turned over on his side. As he did so a handful of small change rolled out of his pocket.
Again we laughed, while the two men stood looking at each other speechless. "Ye can do switherin' as easy sittin' as standin'," Anna said, and Billy sat down. The bogman's story was repeated in minutest detail. The sweep scratched his sooty head and looked wise. "It's gone!" Anna said quietly, and we all looked toward the fire. It was dead. The last spark had been extinguished. We shivered.
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