Didn't I say it was Father Reilly. ...

PEGEEN. Go on then to Father Reilly in a jeering tone, and let him put you in the holy brotherhoods and leave that lad to me.

SHAWN. If I meet the Widow Quin. ...

PEGEEN. Go on, I'm saying, and don't be waking this place with your noise. She hustles him out and bolts door. That lad would wear the spirits from the saints of peace. Bustles about, then takes off her apron and pins it up in the window as a blind, Christy watching her timidly. Then she comes to him and speaks with bland good humour. Let you stretch out now by the fire, young fellow. You should be destroyed travelling.

CHRISTY shyly again, drawing off his boots. I'm tired surely, walking wild eleven days and waking fearful in the night. He holds up one of his feet, feeling his blisters and looking at it with compassion.

PEGEEN standing beside him, watching him with delight. You should have had great people in your family, I'm thinking, with the little small feet you have, and you with a kind of a quality name, the like of what you'd find on the great powers and potentates of France and Spain.

CHRISTY with pride. We were great surely, with wide and windy acres of rich Munster land.

PEGEEN. Wasn't I telling you, and you a fine, handsome young fellow with a noble brow.

CHRISTY with a flash of delighted surprise. Is it me?

PEGEEN. Aye. Did you never hear that from the young girls where you come from in the west or south?

CHRISTY with venom. I did not then. ... Oh, they're bloody liars in the naked parish where I grew a man.

PEGEEN. If they are itself, you've heard it these days, I'm thinking, and you walking the world telling out your story to young girls or old.

CHRISTY. I've told my story no place till this night, Pegeen Mike, and it's foolish I was here, maybe, to be talking free, but you're decent people, I'm thinking, and yourself a kindly woman, the way I wasn't fearing you at all.

PEGEEN filling a sack with straw, right. You've said the like of that, maybe, in every cot and cabin where you've met a young girl on your way.

CHRISTY going over to her, gradually raising his voice. I've said it nowhere till this night, I'm telling you, for I've seen none the like of you the eleven days I am walking the world, looking over a low ditch or a high ditch on my north or south, into stony scattered fields, or scribes of bog, where you'd see young limber girls, and fine prancing women making laughter with the men.

PEGEEN nodding with approval. If you weren't destroyed travelling you'd have as much talk and streeleen, I'm thinking, as Owen Roe O'Sullivan or the poets of the Dingle Bay, and I've heard all times it's the poets are your like, fine fiery fellows with great rages when their temper's roused.

CHRISTY drawing a little nearer to her. You've a power of rings, God bless you, and would there be any offence if I was asking are you single now?

PEGEEN. What would I want wedding so young?

CHRISTY with relief.