CHRISTY.
indignantly.—I will not, then. What good’d be my life-time, if I left Pegeen?
WIDOW QUIN.
Come on, and you’ll be no worse than you were last night; and you with a double murder this time to be telling to the girls.
CHRISTY.
I’ll not leave Pegeen Mike.
WIDOW QUIN.
impatiently.—Isn’t there the match of her in every parish public, from Binghamstown unto the plain of Meath? Come on, I tell you, and I’ll find you finer sweethearts at each waning moon.
CHRISTY.
It’s Pegeen I’m seeking only, and what’d I care if you brought me a drift of chosen females, standing in their shifts itself, maybe, from this place to the Eastern World?
SARA.
runs in, pulling off one of her petticoats.—They’re going to hang him. (Holding out petticoat and shawl.) Fit these upon him, and let him run off to the east.
WIDOW QUIN.
He’s raving now; but we’ll fit them on him, and I’ll take him, in the ferry, to the Achill boat.
CHRISTY.
struggling feebly.—Leave me go, will you? when I’m thinking of my luck to-day, for she will wed me surely, and I a proven hero in the end of all. [They try to fasten petticoat round him.]
WIDOW QUIN.
Take his left hand, and we’ll pull him now. Come on, young fellow.
CHRISTY.
suddenly starting up.—You’ll be taking me from her? You’re jealous, is it, of her wedding me? Go on from this. [He snatches up a stool, and threatens them with it.]