And it seemed to Pat that the moon was on the one side of the Rath
when they began to dance, and on the other side when they left off;
but he could not be sure after all that going round. One thing was
plain enough. He danced every bit of leather off the soles of his
feet, and they were blistered so that he could hardly stand; but all
the little folk did was to stand and hold their sides with laughing at
him.
At last the one who spoke before stepped up to him, and--"Don't break
your heart about it, Pat," says he; "I'll lend you my own shoes till
the morning, for you seem to be a good-natured sort of a boy."
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.
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