THE THREE KINGS AND THE STAR 



high-backed armchair by the window. She gazed straight 

 out across a yard to a shrubbery dominated by three large 

 Fir trees over which the evening star would peep, a 

 tremulous yellow. She called those Fir trees her Three 

 Kings, and never failed to lift her hands in wonder and 

 gratitude over the beauty of the star. Poetry goes deep 

 into the hearts of the Irish. 



I can see that room now. The whole of one side was filled 

 with cupboardspresses, we called them where, behind 

 buff wire gratings and beautifully fluted bright pink calico, 

 the linen was stored. A few nursery groceries, biscuit and 

 dessert oddments were kept in a cupboard just at the 

 entrance / and there was always a faint fragrance of raisins 

 and spice in the atmosphere. I can see the dear occupant 

 of the room too/ the picture of beautiful old age, with 

 banded silver hair beneath the snow-white cap which was 

 tied with muslin strings under her chin. I can see her 

 apple-blossom cheeks and her blue eyes, clear and innocent 

 as a child's, yet so wise ! She had a white starched kerchief 

 folded across her black bodice, and her black skirt was 

 gathered with a great many pleats round the comfortable 

 rotundity of her figure. We used to find her sitting by the 

 casement in the twilight, gazing out. If the mood took me, 

 I would sit on her knee and stare out too. Every few 

 minutes or so she would sigh, not with sadness, but gently, 

 as the woods sigh, with scarcely perceptible movement on 

 a still night. But though I knew it to be no sigh of distress, 

 it nevertheless troubled me- I would ask anxiously : 

 " Why do you sigh, Mobie ? " 



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