It was at sunrise that the door opened and Oona entered. The child was wet with dew which glistered all over her as though she were a new-plucked flower. "Ah, birdeen, it is you!" whispered Alan softly, lest the sleepers should wake. "See, I have been dreaming and sleeping all night before the peats." Oona stared at the bed, where all she could see was Sorcha's pale face among its mass of dusky hair. "Is it true, Alan? That ... over there ... is _that_ true?" "It is true, dear." "Are you _sure_ that a baby has come to Sorcha?" "It is Himself that sent it." "Alan, has it a soul?" "A soul?... Yes, sure no evil eye is upon it, to the Stones be it said! But why do you ask that thing?" The child sighed, but made no answer, her gaze wandering from Alan round the room, and then to where Sorcha lay. "Why do you say that, Oona? It is not a safe thing to say: sure, it is not a good wishing. Who knows who may be hearing, though I wish evil to no one, banned or blest!" "I see no one," Oona began calmly: "I see no one, and how can _no one_ hear? But I will not be for saying an unlucky thing: sure, you know that, dear Alan. _Happiness be in this house!..._ And, now, I will be going, Alan, for I...." "Going? _Hush-sh!_ wait, Oona, wait: sure, you will be wanting to see the little one?" "I want to see Nial." "Why?" "He must not come ... just now." "Why?" "At dawn we went up to the top of the hillock, for the 'quiet people' are ever away by then, it is said. And we prayed. I prayed, and Nial said whatever I said. And then, at sunrise, we rose, and went three times round Cnoc-na-shee south-ways, and each time cried _Djayseeul!_"[17] [17] _Deasiul_: "the way of the south [_i.e._ of the sun] (to you!)" From _deas_, the south, and _seol_, way of, direction. The common Gaelic exclamation for luck, in the Highlands at any rate. Many old crofters still, on coming out of a morning, cry "_Deasiul!_" "And what was it you would be praying, Oona?" "That no soul might be in the body of Sorcha's baby." Alan stared at her, too amazed at first to be angry. "What madness is this, lassie?" "Sure it is no madness at all, at all, Alan! It is a good thought, and no madness.... For ... for why.... There is poor Nial; and when Murdo met him on the hillside last night, and told him about Sorcha, Nial found me out by calling through the woods like a cuckoo, and sure a good way too, for there are no cooaks now; and then he and I hoped the baby would have no soul ... and...." "Hush-sh! Hush-sh! Enough! enough! _bi sàvach!_ I am not being angered with you, because of the good thought that was in your heart. But say these things no more. Come; look at Sorcha and the child." With a light, swift step Oona moved across the room. Silently she looked into Sorcha's face; silently she stood looking awhile at the child.