Some one knocks.

CHRISTY clinging to Pegeen. Oh, glory! it's late for knocking, and this last while I'm in terror of the peelers, and the walking dead. ... Knocking again.

PEGEEN. Who's there?

VOICE outside. Me.

PEGEEN. Who's me?

VOICE. The Widow Quin.

PEGEEN jumping up and giving him the bread and milk. Go on now with your supper, and let on to be sleepy, for if she found you were such a warrant to talk, she'd be stringing gabble till the dawn of day.

 

Christy takes bread and sits shyly with his back to the door.

PEGEEN opening door, with temper. What ails you, or what is it you're wanting at this hour of the night?

WIDOW QUIN coming in a step and peering at Christy. I'm after meeting Shawn Keogh and Father Reilly below, who told me of your curiosity man, and they fearing by this time he was maybe roaring, romping on your hands with drink.

PEGEEN pointing to Christy. Look now, is he roaring, and he stretched out drowsy with his supper, and his mug of milk. Walk down and tell that to Father Reilly and to Shaneen Keogh.

WIDOW QUIN coming forward. I'll not see them again, for I've their word to lead that lad forward for to lodge with me.

PEGEEN in blank amazement. This night, is it?

WIDOW QUIN going over. This night. »It isn't fitting,« says the priesteen, »to have his likeness lodging with an orphaned girl.« To Christy. God save you, mister!

CHRISTY shyly. God save you kindly.

WIDOW QUIN looking at him with half-amused curiosity. Well, aren't you a little smiling fellow? It should have been great and bitter torments did rouse your spirits to a deed of blood.

CHRISTY doubtfully. It should, maybe.

WIDOW QUIN. It's more than ›maybe‹ I'm saying, and it'd soften my heart to see you sitting so simple with your cup and cake, and you fitter to be saying your catechism than slaying your da.

PEGEEN at counter, washing glasses. There's talking when any'd see he's fit to be holding his head high with the wonders of the world. Walk on from this, for I'll not have him tormented and he destroyed travelling since Tuesday was a week.

WIDOW QUIN peaceably. We'll be walking surely when his supper's done, and you'll find we're great company, young fellow, when it's of the like of you and me you'd hear the penny poets singing in an August Fair.

CHRISTY innocently. Did you kill your father?

PEGEEN contemptuously. She did not. She hit himself with a worn pick, and the rusted poison did corrode his blood the way he never overed it and died after. That was a sneaky kind of murder did win small glory with the boys itself. She crosses to Christy's left.

WIDOW QUIN with good-humour.