with
great difficulty to market by a driver whose temper had given way hours
before; or they both became goats and with their heads jammed together
they pushed and squealed viciously; and these changes lapsed into one
another so easily that at no moment were they unoccupied. But as the
day wore on to evening the immense surrounding quietude began to weigh
heavily upon them. Saving for their own shrill voices there was no
sound, and this unending, wide silence at last commanded them to a
corresponding quietness. Little by little they ceased their play. The
scamper became a trot, each run was more and more curtailed in its
length, the race back became swifter than the run forth, and, shortly,
they were pacing soberly enough one on either side of the Thin Woman
sending back and forth a few quiet sentences. Soon even these sentences
trailed away into the vast surrounding stillness. Then Brigid Beg
clutched the Thin Woman's right hand, and not long after Seumas gently
clasped her left hand, and these mute appeals for protection and comfort
again released her from the valleys of fury through which she had been
so fiercely careering.

As they went gently along they saw a cow lying in a field, and, seeing
this animal, the Thin Woman stopped thoughtfully.

"Everything," said she, "belongs to the wayfarer," and she crossed into
the field and milked the cow into a vessel which she had.

"I wonder," said Seumas, "who owns that cow."

"Maybe," said Brigid Beg, "nobody owns her at all."

"The cow owns herself," said the Thin Woman, "for nobody can own a thing
that is alive. I am sure she gives her milk to us with great goodwill,
for we are modest, temperate people without greed or pretension."

On being released the cow lay down again in the grass and resumed its
interrupted cud. As the evening had grown chill the Thin Woman and the
children huddled close to the warm animal. They drew pieces of cake from
their wallets, and ate these and drank happily from the vessel of milk.
Now and then the cow looked benignantly over its shoulder bidding them
a welcome to its hospitable flanks. It had a mild, motherly eye, and
it was very fond of children. The youngsters continually deserted their
meal in order to put their arms about the cow's neck to thank and praise
her for her goodness, and to draw each other's attention to various
excellences in its appearance.

"Cow," said Brigid Beg in an ecstasy, "I love you."

"So do I," said Seu