One of the servants came out and said: ‘Devil a picture of the mistress' odd shaggy pony did you ever see like the horse coming from the west.’ ‘Dont be speaking of her’, said another of them, ‘we are long enough uneasy, don't mention her name among us.’ They came out a second time, and then they knew quite well that it was the pony. When he came into the stable, every other horse there went down on its knees making welcome before him. Murrogh went into the house and stopped not until he reached the top of the house and sat down in the golden chair in which his wife bade him sit. ‘Gently, my gentleman’, said the man of the house, ‘don't sit there. No one has been allowed to sit in it since my own daughter went.’ ‘I will sit in it’, said Murrogh, ‘for it is I myself that have the best right to it.’