[Sarah turns on her, and she springs round nearly into the Priest’s arms. When she sees him, she claps her shawl over her mouth, and goes up towards the ditch, laughing to herself.
PRIEST
going to Sarah, half terrified at the language that he has heard.—Well, aren’t you a fearful lot? I’m thinking it’s only humbug you were making at the fall of night, and you won’t need me at all.
SARAH
with anger still in her voice.—Humbug is it! Would you be turning back upon your spoken promise in the face of God?
PRIEST
dubiously.—I’m thinking you were never christened, Sarah Casey; and it would be a queer job to go dealing Christian sacraments unto the like of you. (Persuasively feeling in his pocket.) So it would be best, maybe, I’d give you a shilling for to drink my health, and let you walk on, and not trouble me at all.
SARAH
That’s your talking, is it? If you don’t stand to your spoken word, holy father, I’ll make my own complaint to the mitred bishop in the face of all.
PRIEST
You’d do that!
SARAH
I would surely, holy father, if I walked to the city of Dublin with blood and blisters on my naked feet.
PRIEST
uneasily scratching his ear.—I wish this day was done, Sarah Casey; for I’m thinking it’s a risky thing getting mixed up in any matters with the like of you.
SARAH
Be hasty then, and you’ll have us done with before you’d think at all.
PRIEST
giving in.—Well, maybe it’s right you are, and let you come up to the chapel when you see me looking from the door.