WIDOW QUIN.
going.—It’s in the mad-house they should put him, not in jail, at all. We’ll go by the back-door, to call the doctor, and we’ll save him so. [She goes out, with Sara, through inner room. Men crowd in the doorway. Christy sits down again by the fire.]
MICHAEL.
in a terrified whisper.—Is the old lad killed surely?
PHILLY.
I’m after feeling the last gasps quitting his heart. [They peer in at Christy.]
MICHAEL.
with a rope.—Look at the way he is. Twist a hangman’s knot on it, and slip it over his head, while he’s not minding at all.
PHILLY.
Let you take it, Shaneen. You’re the soberest of all that’s here.
SHAWN.
Is it me to go near him, and he the wickedest and worst with me? Let you take it, Pegeen Mike.
PEGEEN.
Come on, so. [She goes forward with the others, and they drop the double hitch over his head.]
CHRISTY.
What ails you?
SHAWN.
triumphantly, as they pull the rope tight on his arms.—Come on to the peelers, till they stretch you now.
CHRISTY.
Me?