The sacrilege of doubt when the tale was Irish jarred.
"Lies!" said Adam Craig again, "adapted centuries ago by some Irish word-thief." "You are pleased to be humorous," said Kenny, glancing coldly at his host.
"I am pleased," said the old man insolently, "to be truthful, not being Irish.

Fair, Brown and Trembling!" he added with a sneer.

"Word for word, it's the tale of Cinderella." "The pattern for Cinderella!" corrected Kenny with a shrug.
Adam Craig glanced at him with narrowed eyes.
"And Finn McCoul and the bathing queen.

I can find you the German tale of a stolen veil from which it's--borrowed." "You can find me likely the name of a German who chose to delve into Gaelic for his plot." "You've a ready tongue." "There are times when it's needed." "As for the first harp," snapped Adam Craig, nettled, "there's a Grecian lyre tale yonder on the shelf like it." "Liar tale," said Kenny purposely misunderstanding.

Hum! The Greeks, he remembered regretfully, were clever adapters.
His air of assurance incensed the old man.
"As for that fool of a Cuchullin," he rasped, coughing a little, "where is he different from Achilles ?" "A little different," said Kenny.