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"Faith, there be more bits o' real gold hid undther the loose clay in the corner." It was the truth; and it was the scraping and scrooching for the last piece that had left Teig's cupboard bare of a Christmas dinner. "Gold is betther nor eatin' an' dthrinkin'. An' if ye have naught to give, there'll be naught asked of ye;" and he laughed again.
The miller's wee Cassie stood there, peering at him out of the darkness. "Take those to the widow O'Donnelly, do ye hear? And take the rest to the store. Ye tell Jamie to bring up all that he has that is eatable an' dhrinkable; and to the neighbours ye say, 'Teig's keepin' the feast this night. Hurry now!"
And in a moment all the voices took it up and the hall rang with: "Aye, kill him, kill him!" Teig's legs took to trembling, and fear put the leash on his tongue; but after a long silence he managed to whisper: "I have done evil to no one no one!" "Maybe," said the King; "but have ye done good? Come, tell us, have ye given aught to any one this night? If ye have, we will pardon ye."
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