A breeze blew up from the East
River, which was not far away, but the air was none too fresh, for all
that. The place that had been found for the Sullivans was in another
street, not far away. It was much the same, as I have said, but it was
even smaller, for there were only two of the Sullivans, and they could
get on with less space.
The fairies were fairly terrified at all this. And was it any wonder?
The poor little Good People! They had been used to a beautiful, bright
hall, to green, fresh grass to dance on in the quiet, misty moonlight,
and to cool shade for the day. What could they do in such a place as
this? They remembered how the King of All Ireland had told them that
they did not know whether the place where they were going was a place
fit for them to live in.
The first thing that the King did was to send some of the fairies in
all directions to see if they could spy out any place where the whole
tribe could live in a decent and comfortable manner. The street, he
was sure, would never do. Of course, if the Fairy King wanted a rock
or a hill to open and let him into it, it would open, and he could
live in it, if he chose, just as he used to in his own old rath.
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