SARAH
smelling it.—That’s bog water, I’m thinking, but it’s his own they are surely, for I never seen the like of them for whity mud, and red mud, and turf on them, and the fine sands of the sea. That man’s been walking, I’m telling you. [She goes down right, putting on one of his boots.]
SUSAN
going to window.—Maybe he’s stolen off to Belmullet with the boots of Michael James, and you’d have a right so to follow after him, Sara Tansey, and you the one yoked the ass cart and drove ten miles to set your eyes on the man bit the yellow lady’s nostril on the northern shore. [She looks out.]
SARA.
running to window with one boot on.—Don’t be talking, and we fooled to-day. (Putting on other boot.) There’s a pair do fit me well, and I’ll be keeping them for walking to the priest, when you’d be ashamed this place, going up winter and summer with nothing worth while to confess at all.
HONOR.
who has been listening at the door.—Whisht! there’s someone inside the room. (She pushes door a chink open.) It’s a man. (Sara kicks off boots and puts them where they were. They all stand in a line looking through chink.)
SARA.
I’ll call him. Mister! Mister! (He puts in his head.) Is Pegeen within?
CHRISTY.
coming in as meek as a mouse, with the looking-glass held behind his back.—She’s above on the cnuceen, seeking the nanny goats, the way she’d have a sup of goat’s milk for to colour my tea.
SARA.
And asking your pardon, is it you’s the man killed his father?
CHRISTY.
sidling toward the nail where the glass was hanging.—I am, God help me!
SARA.
taking eggs she has brought.—Then my thousand welcomes to you, and I’ve run up with a brace of duck’s eggs for your food today. Pegeen’s ducks is no use, but these are the real rich sort. Hold out your hand and you’ll see it’s no lie I’m telling you.
CHRISTY.
coming forward shyly, and holding out his left hand.—They’re a great and weighty size.