Fairy Tales of Ireland. P.J. Lynch

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      “Faith,” said Fin, “beautiful; an’ how are you, Oonagh – and how did you sport your figure during my absence, my bilberry?”

      “Never a merrier – as bouncing a grass widow as ever there was in sweet ‘Tyrone among the bushes’.”

      Fin gave a short, good-humoured cough, and laughed most heartily, to show her how much he was delighted that she made herself happy in his absence.

      “An’ what brought you home so soon, Fin?” said she.

      “Why, avourneen,” said Fin, putting in his answer in the proper way, “never the thing but the purest of love and affection for yourself. Sure you know that truth, anyhow, Oonagh.”

      Fin spent two or three happy days with Oonagh, and felt himself very comfortable, considering the dread he had of Cucullin. This, however, grew upon him so much that his wife could not but perceive something lay on his mind which he kept altogether to himself. Let a woman alone, in the meantime, for ferreting, or wheedling a secret out of her good man, when she wishes. Fin was a proof of this.