Page:Darby O'Gill and the Good People by Herminie Templeton Kavanagh (1903).djvu/273

Rh worruld; an’, with the last cry, the mill quinched itself into darkness agin an’ stood lonely an’ gloomy an’ silent as before. The rain patthered down on the road an’ the wind swished mournful in the threes, but there was no other sound.

The knowledgeable man turned to creep away very soft an’ quiet; but as he did a monsthrous black thing that looked like a dog without a head crawled slowly out from the willows where the turrible laugh had come from, an’ it crept into the gloom of the opposite hedge an’ there it stood, waitin’ for Darby to dhraw near.

But the knowledgeable man gave a leap backwards, an’ as he did from the darkness just behindt him swelled a deep sigh that was almost a groan. From the hedge to his right came another sigh, only deeper than the first, and from the blackness on his left rose another moan, an’ then a groaning, moaning chorus rose all round him, an’ lost itself in the wailing of the wind. He was surrounded—the ghosts had captured Darby.

The lad never rayalised before that minute what a precious thing is daylight. If there would only come a flash of lightening to show him the faces of the Rh