He did not know what had become of her, and the facts he had to lay before his adviser were very few. He left the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath taking snuff under a pine tree and went into the house. "God be with all here," said he as he entered. "God be with yourself, Meehawl MacMurrachu," said the Philosopher. "I am in great trouble this day, sir," said Meehawl, "and if you would give me an advice I'd be greatly beholden to you." "I can give you that," replied the Philosopher. "None better than your honour and no trouble to you either. It was a powerful advice you gave me about the washboard, and if I didn't come here to thank you before this it was not because I didn't want to come, but that I couldn't move hand or foot by dint of the cruel rheumatism put upon me by the Leprecauns of Gort na Cloca Mora, bad cess to them forever: twisted I was the way you'd get a squint in your eye if you only looked at me, and the pain I suffered would astonish you." "It would not," said the Philosopher.
