"Will you help yourself, or take what's given ye, Pat?" says the fairy
man.
"Did I ever learn manners?" says Pat. "Would you have me help myself
before company? I'll take what your honour pleases to give me, and be
thankful."
The fairy man picked a lot of yellow furze-blossoms from the bushes,
and filled Pat's pockets.
"Keep 'em for love, Pat, me darlin'," says he.
Pat would have liked some of the jewels, but he put the furze-blossoms
by for love.
"Good-evening to your honour," says he.
"And where are you going, Pat, dear?" says the fairy man.
"I'm going home," says Pat. And if the fairy man didn't know where
that was, small blame to him.
"Just let me dust them shoes for ye, Pat," says the fairy man. And as
Pat lifted up each foot he breathed on it, and dusted it with the tail
of his green coat.
"Home!" says he, and when he let go, Pat was at his own doorstep
before he could look round, and his parcels safe and sound with him.
Next morning he was up with the sun, and carried the fairy man's
shoes back to the Rath. As he came up, the little man looked over the
ditch.
"The top of the morning to, your honour," says Pat; "here's your
shoes."
"You're an honest boy, Pat," says the little gentleman. "It's
inconvenienced I am without them, for. I have but the one pair. Have
you looked at the yellow flowers this morning?" he says.
"I have not, sir," says Pat; "I'd be loth to deceive you.
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