The two brothers then were sitting by the hearth, the same as himself, till the end of seven years. ‘It is this day seven years,’ says the second one, ‘that the brother went out from this. And I’ll go make a poke for him. And it’s as good for you,’ says he to the mother, ‘go bake a cake for the road in the morning.’ Well, the mother did the same thing as before, and she made a big cake and a small cake, and asked him would he have the small one with her blessing, or the big one with her curse. ‘I’ll have the big one with your curse,’ says he. So he set out, and when he came to the same place he sat down on the same stone where the brother had sat, and he spread a cloth the way any crumb that would fall, he could pick it up for himself. The Robineen came around him asking for the crumbs, and he wouldn’t give them and he hooshed her away. So when he was going to the lake for a drink, she went into it before him, and spread out her wings and scattered the water, and after he took one drink of it he fell dead; and she buried the two of them under one stone, the Robineen did, the two brothers. Well, they were fourteen years gone when the third man said he would go look for them, and the mother made two cakes the same as she made for the other two. Well, the mother told him then to take the big one or the small one; to take the big one with her curse, or to take the small one with her blessing. ‘There’s nothing like a mother’s blessing,’ says he. ‘And I’ll take the small one with your blessing,’ he said. It happened that he was walking till he went in the same place where the brothers were killed, and commenced eating the cake. The Robineen was coming anear him, and there wasn’t a bite he would take but he would give a second bite to the Robineen. She didn’t stir up the lake, but let him take his full drink, and she made a well in the lake and made wine in it and gave enough of it to him to drink. ‘Here is a little bush,’ she says then, ‘an enchanted bush; and give a tip to that stone there, and you can rise your two brothers.’ So, thanks be to God, he struck the two tips on the stone, and they rose as well as ever and as fresh. Says the Robineen: ‘They may be thankful to you, they would never stir out of that only for you coming.’ She gave this young fellow a bag of gold for himself and his two brothers, a fine three men. They never met with the Robineen from that out. The mother’s blessing is better with a small cake than her curse with a big one.