As for you, Miss Llyn, you're as welcome as the shining of the stars of a night when there's no moon.

I'm glad you're here, though I've nothing to give ye, not a bite nor sup.

Ah, yes--but yes," he suddenly cried, touching his head.

"Faith, then, I have! I have a drap of somethin' that's as good as annything dhrunk by the ancient kings of Ireland.

It's a wee cordial that come from the cellars of the Bishop of Dunlany, when I cured his cook of the evil-stone that was killing her.