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Suddenly a wee man sang out: "Clip, clap, clip, clap, I wish I had my wee red cap!" And out of the air there tumbled the neatest cap Teig ever laid his two eyes on. The wee man clapped it on his head, crying: "I wish I was in Spain!" and whist up the chimney he went, and away out of sight. It happened just as I am telling it. Another wee man called for his cap, and away he went after the first.
She was singing as she put the light down close to the glass, and Teig caught the words: "Open your door an' greet ye the stranger For ye mind that the wee Lord had naught but a manger. Mhuire as truagh!" "'Tis the de'il's work!" cried Teig, and he set the red cap more firmly on his head. "I'm for another country."
Not a word could Teig say fear tightened the leash for he was knowing full well there was no good to him that night. "Then ye must die," said the King. "Will ye try hanging or beheading?" "Hanging, please, your Majesty," said Teig. The guards came rushing up and carried him off. But as he was crossing the threshold of the hall a thought sprang at him and held him.
A running of feet sounded outside, and then the snatch of a song: "'Tis well that ye mind ye who sit by the fire That the Lord he was born in a dark and cold byre. Mhuire as truagh!" "Wait ye, whoever ye are!" and Teig was away to the corner, digging fast at the loose clay, as a terrier digs at a bone. He filled his hands full of the shining gold, then hurried to the door, unbarring it.
Torches burned along the streets, sweetmeat-sellers went about crying their wares, and on the steps of the cathedral crouched a crowd of beggars. "What's the meanin' o' that?" asked Teig of one of the fairies. "They are waiting for those that are hearing mass.
Stephen, and Teig sat alone by his fire with naught in his cupboard but a pinch of tea and a bare mixing of meal, and a heart inside of him as soft and warm as the ice on the water-bucket outside the door. The tuft was near burnt on the hearth a handful of golden cinders left, just; and Teig took to counting them greedily on his fingers. "There's one, two, three, an' four an' five," he laughed.
"Faith," said Teig, trying another laugh, "Barney can fast for the once; 'twill be all the same in a month's time." And he fell to thinking of the gold again. A knock came at the door. Teig pulled himself down in his chair where the shadow would cover him, and held his tongue. "Teig, Teig!" It was the widow O'Donnelly's voice. "If ye are there, open your door.
Barney lived a stone's throw from Teig, alone, in a wee tumbled-in cabin; and for a score of years past Teig had stood on the doorstep every Christmas Eve, and, making a hollow of his two hands, had called across the road: "Hey, there, Barney, will ye come over for a sup?" And Barney had reached for his crutches there being but one leg to him and had come.
Another knock came, and it was a stranger's voice this time: "The other cabins are filled; not one but has its hearth crowded; will ye take us in the two of us? The wind bites mortal sharp, not a morsel o' food have we tasted this day. Masther, will ye take us in?" But Teig sat on, a-holding his tongue; and the tramp of the strangers' feet passed down the road.
When they come out, they give half of what they have to those that have nothing, so on this night of all the year there shall be no hunger and no cold." And then far down the street came the sound of a child's voice, singing: "Listen all ye, 'tis the Feast o' St. Stephen, Mind that ye keep it, this holy even'." "Curse it!" said Teig; "can a song fly afther ye?"
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