She did not know till she was at home. The house was full of drinking and music. She went to the fire. Her own son came up to her.
She was making him wonder she was so worn and wasted. She told the child to go to his father and get a glass of whisky for her to drink. The child went crying to look for his father. He asked his father to give him a glass of whisky. His father gave it. He came down where she was by the fire. He gave her the glass. She drank it, there was so much thirst on her. The ring that her husband gave her she put in the glass.
“Put your hand over the mouth of the glass; give it to no one. at all till you hand it to your father.”
The lad went to his father. He gave him the glass. The father looked into it, and saw the ring. He recognised the ring.
“Who has given you this?” said he.
“A poor woman by the fire,” said the lad.
The father raised the child on his shoulders that he might point out to him the woman who had given him the ring. The child came to the poor woman.
“That is the woman,” said he, “who gave me the ring.”
The man recognised her then. He said that hardly did he know her when she came so worn and wasted. He said to all the people that he
