Margaret Henan would have been a striking figure under any circumstances, but never more so than when I first chanced upon her, a sack of grain of fully a hundredweight on her shoulder, as she walked with sure though tottering stride from the cart-tail to the stable, pausing for an instant to gather strength at the foot of the steep steps that led to the grain-bin.
It is a lucky man or woman who has the width of an eye between, but with Margaret Henan the width between her eyes was fully that of an eye and a half.
And the more I learned of Margaret Henan in the weeks that followed the more mysteriously remote she became.
In the evening, after my encounter with Margaret Henan, I questioned Mrs.
Ross was at first averse to discussing Margaret Henan at all.
She drove them from the house just oz she drove old Tom Henan, thot was her husband, tull hus death.
I gazed at this varied trove brought home by sailor sons, and pondered the mystery of Margaret Henan, who had driven her husband to his death and been forsaken by all her kin.
Margaret Henan was always set on her ways, an' never more so thon on thot name Samuel.
From Clara, next morning, I got the tale of Margaret Henan's favourite brother; and from here and there, in the week that followed, I pieced together the tragedy of Margaret Henan.
And, in the face of all this, Margaret Henan named her first child Samuel.
There was talk on the part of Margaret Henan of going to law at the time, but in the end she carried the child to Belfast and there had it christened Samuel.
The young generation joined Margaret Henan in laughing at them, but the old crones continued to shake their heads.