Tom Daly lived between Kenmare and Skneem, but nearer to Kenmare, and had an only son, who was called Tom, after the father. When the son was eighteen years old Tom Daly died, leaving a widow and this son. The widow was paralyzed two years before Tom’s death, and could rise out of bed only as she was taken out, but as the fire was near the bed she could push a piece of turf into it if the turf was left at hand.

Tom Daly, while alive, was in the employ of a gentleman living at Drummond Castle.  Young Tom got the father’s place, as was the tradition, and he looked on his godfather as he would on his own father, for the father and godfather had been great friends always.  Tom’s mother was as fond of the godfather as she was of her own husband.

Four years after old Tom died the godfather followed him.  He was very fond of chestnuts, and when he came to die he asked his friends to put a big wooden dish of them in his coffin, so he might come at the nuts in the next world.  They carried out the man’s wishes.  The godfather was buried, and the bed-ridden widow mourned for him as much as for her own husband.  The young man continued to work for the gentleman at Drummond Castle, and in the winter it was often late in the evening before he could come home.  There was a short cut from the gentleman’s place through a grove and past the graveyard.  Young Tom was going home one winter night, the moon was shining very brightly.  While passing the graveyard he saw a man on a big tomb that was in it, and he cracking nuts.  Young Daly saw that it was on his godfather’s tomb the man was, and when he remembered the nuts that were buried with him he believed in one minute that it was the godfather who was before him.  He was greatly in dread then, and ran off as fast as ever his legs could carry him.  When he reached home he was out of breath and panting.

"What is on you," asked the mother, "and to be choking for breath?"

"Sure I saw my godfather sitting on the tomb and he eating the nuts that were buried with him."

"Bad luck to you," said the mother; "don’t be belying the dead, for it is as great a sin to tell one lie on the dead as ten on the living."

"God knows," said Tom, "that I’d not belie my godfather, and ‘tis he that is in it; and hadn’t I enough time to know him before he died?"

"Do you say in truth, Tom, that ‘tis your godfather?"

" As sure as you are my mother there before me ‘tis my godfather that’s in the graveyard cracking nuts."

"Bring me to him, for the mercy of God, till I ask him about your own father in the other world."

"I’ll not do that," said Tom.