Father T Sure it’s stickin’ inside.
Myles I always lock the dure inside and lave it there when I go out, for fear on losin’ it.
Father T Myles, come here to me. It’s lyin’ ye are. Look me in the face. What’s come to ye these tin days past—three times I’ve been to your door and it was locked, but I heard ye stirrin’ inside.
Myles It was the pig, yer riverince.
Father T Myles, why did yer shoot Danny Mann?
Myles Oh, murther, who tould you that?
Father T Himself.
Myles Oh, Father Tom! have ye’ seen him?
Father T I’ve just left him.
Myles Is it down there ye’ve been?