WIDOW QUIN.
Aye. Would you give me the red cow you have and the mountainy ram, and the right of way across your rye path, and a load of dung at Michaelmas, and turbary upon the western hill?
SHAWN.
radiant with hope.—I would surely, and I’d give you the wedding-ring I have, and the loan of a new suit, the way you’d have him decent on the wedding-day. I’d give you two kids for your dinner, and a gallon of poteen, and I’d call the piper on the long car to your wedding from Crossmolina or from Ballina. I’d give you....
WIDOW QUIN.
That’ll do so, and let you whisht, for he’s coming now again. [Christy comes in very natty in the new clothes. Widow Quin goes to him admiringly.]
WIDOW QUIN.
If you seen yourself now, I’m thinking you’d be too proud to speak to us at all, and it’d be a pity surely to have your like sailing from Mayo to the Western World.
CHRISTY.
as proud as a peacock.—I’m not going. If this is a poor place itself, I’ll make myself contented to be lodging here. [Widow Quin makes a sign to Shawn to leave them.]
SHAWN.
Well, I’m going measuring the race-course while the tide is low, so I’ll leave you the garments and my blessing for the sports to-day. God bless you! [He wriggles out.]
WIDOW QUIN.
admiring Christy.—Well, you’re mighty spruce, young fellow. Sit down now while you’re quiet till you talk with me.
CHRISTY.
swaggering.—I’m going abroad on the hillside for to seek Pegeen.
WIDOW QUIN.
You’ll have time and plenty for to seek Pegeen, and you heard me saying at the fall of night the two of us should be great company.
CHRISTY.
From this out I’ll have no want of company when all sorts is bringing me their food and clothing (he swaggers to the door, tightening his belt), the way they’d set their eyes upon a gallant orphan cleft his father with one blow to the breeches belt. (He opens door, then staggers back.) Saints of glory! Holy angels from the throne of light!