PEGEEN.
with a sign to the men to be quiet.—You’re only saying it. You did nothing at all. A soft lad the like of you wouldn’t slit the windpipe of a screeching sow.
CHRISTY.
offended.—You’re not speaking the truth.
PEGEEN.
in mock rage.—Not speaking the truth, is it? Would you have me knock the head of you with the butt of the broom?
CHRISTY.
twisting round on her with a sharp cry of horror.—Don’t strike me. I killed my poor father, Tuesday was a week, for doing the like of that.
PEGEEN.
with blank amazement.—Is it killed your father?
CHRISTY.
subsiding.—With the help of God I did surely, and that the Holy Immaculate Mother may intercede for his soul.
PHILLY.
retreating with Jimmy.—There’s a daring fellow.
JIMMY.
Oh, glory be to God!
MICHAEL.
with great respect.—That was a hanging crime, mister honey. You should have had good reason for doing the like of that.
CHRISTY.
in a very reasonable tone.—He was a dirty man, God forgive him, and he getting old and crusty, the way I couldn’t put up with him at all.