Oona. Do not say a thing like that; it is impossible that anyone would hate you.
Hanrahan. Come and we will sit in the corner of the room together; and I will tell you the little song I made for you; it is for you I made it. (They go to a corner and sit down together. Sheela comes in at the door.)
Sheela. I came to you as quick as I could.
Maurya. And a hundred welcomes to you.
Sheela. What have you going on now?
Maurya. Beginning we are; we had one jig, and now the piper is drinking a glass. They'll begin dancing again in a minute when the piper is ready.
Sheela. There are a good many people gathering in to you to-night. We will have a fine dance.
Maurya. Maybe so, Sheela; but there's a man of them there, and I'd sooner him out than in.
Sheela. It's about the long red man you are talking, isn't it—the man that is in close talk with Oona in the corner? Where is he from, and who is he himself?
Maurya. That's the greatest vagabond ever came into Ireland; Tumaus Hanrahan they call him; but it's Hanrahan the rogue he ought to have been christened by right. Aurah, wasn't there the misfortune on me, him to come in to us at all to-night?