The house had two windows, one on either side of the unlocked doorway;
and when the old man slowly swung the door open, there was shown an
interior of humble character, but neat and well-ordered. The floor was
earth, dry and clean. There was a bed to the right, also wholesome and
dry, with horse-blankets for cover. At the back, opposite the doorway,
was a fireplace of some size, and in it stood a kettle, a pot, and a few
small pans, together with a covered saucepan. On either side of the
fireplace was a three-legged stool, and about the middle of the left-hand
wall of the room was a chair which had been made out of a barrel, some of
the staves having been sawn away to make a seat.

Once inside the house, Christopher Dogan laid his bag on the bed and
waved his hands in a formula of welcome.

"Well, I'm honoured," he said, "for no one has set foot inside this place
that I'd rather have here than the two of ye; and it's wonderful to me,
Mr. Calhoun, that ye've never been inside it before, because there's been
times when I've had food and drink in plenty. I could have made ye
comfortable then and stroked ye all down yer gullet. 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. Ah, thank God!"

He went into a corner on the left of the fireplace, opened an old jar,
thrust his arm down, and drew out a squat little bottle of cordial. The
bottle was beautifully made. It was round and hunched, and of glass,