The goat gives milk, the sheep gives wool, the cow gives everything. What else in God’s name do you want to know? And Malachy yelped with fright because Dad never talked like that, never spoke sharply to us.He might get us up in the middle of the night and make us promise to die for Ireland but he never barked like this. Malachy ran to Mam and she said, There, there, love, don’t cry.Your father is just worn out carrying the twins and ’tis hard answering all those questions when you’re carting twins through the world. Dad set the twins on the road and held out his arms to Malachy. Now the twins started to cry and Malachy clung to Mam, sobbing.The cows mooed, the sheep maaed, the goat ehehed, the birds twittered in the trees, and the beep beep of a motor car cut through everything. A man called from the motor car, Good Lord, what are you people doing on this road at this hour of an Easter Sunday morning? Dad said, Good morning, Father. Father? I said. Dad, is that your father? Mam said, Don’t ask him any questions. Dad said, No, no, this is a priest. Malachy said,What’s a—? but Mam put her hand over his mouth. The priest had white hair and a white collar.He said,Where are you going? Dad said, Up the road to McCourts of Moneyglass, and the priest took us in his motor car. He said he knew the McCourts, a fine family, good Catholics, some daily communicants, and he hoped he’d see us all at Mass, especially the little Yankees who didn’t know what a priest was, God help us. At the house my mother reaches for the gate latch. Dad says, No, no, not that way. Not the front gate.They use the front door only for visits from the priest or funerals. We  make  our  way  around  the  house  to  the  kitchen  door.  Dad pushes in the door and there’s Grandpa McCourt drinking tea from a big mug and Grandma McCourt frying something. Och, says Grandpa, you’re here. Och, we are, says Dad. He points to my mother.This is Angela, he says. Grandpa says, Och, you must be worn out, Angela. Grandma says nothing, she turns back to the frying pan. Grandpa leads us through the kitchen to a large room with a long table and chairs. He says, Sit down and have some tea.Would you like boxty? 48