"You have chosen the finest bodhran in my shop!" Una exclaims. I take a quick step backwards, startled. What a goose I am, tapping carelessly away on her best bodhran as if it were a toy. Una takes the drum and cradles it gently for a moment, tracing its flowery design with one finger as if she is remembering something. "Some are fooled by its age," she explains softly. "I cannot tell you who made it or exactly how old it is. A tribe of travellers passing through Dunadd gave it to my father in exchange for supplies."

"If only it could speak, I wonder what stories it could tell," I sigh.

Una gives the drum a little pat and then puts it into my hands. She chuckles when I gasp with happy surprise. Then, suddenly business-like, she names her price. "What would I like from your shop? Dried lavender to freshen the room, oil of lavender for my washing water, a pouch of wintergreen and willow bark tea, and another of Egyptian mint. I would also like an ogham reading. Oh my! I hope I'm not asking too much."

I can hardly speak, I am so overjoyed that this beautiful bodhran is really mine. "Too much? No, not at all!" I squeak. Jacques and Bridgette break into laughter at my choked-up voice. Una passes me my half-finished bowl of mead and we all drink a toast to the Gypsy bodhran!

"And here's to all the lessons I'll be needing! I'll pay you with a fresh supply of lavender each week, would that do?"