We had ours and then went to bed.

Father sat outside and smoked in the starlight.

Hours after I woke up and heard mother crying.

Before daylight we were up again, and the steer was cut up and salted and in the harness-cask soon after sunrise.

His head and feet were all popped into a big pot where we used to make soup for the pigs, and by the time it had been boiling an hour or two there was no fear of any one swearing to the yellow steer by 'head-mark'.
We had a hearty breakfast off the 'skirt', but mother wouldn't touch a bit, nor let Aileen take any; she took nothing but a bit of bread and a cup of tea, and sat there looking miserable and downcast.