Mrs. Delane: (Sulkily.) If there is any way for a message to come that is quicker than to come by the wires, tell me what it is and I’ll be obliged to you.
Mr. Quirke: The Sergeant was up here making an excuse he was sticking up that notice. What was he doing here, I ask you?
Mrs. Delane: How would I know what brought him?
Mr. Quirke: It is what he did; he made as if to go away—he turned back again and I shaving—he brought away the sheep—he will have it for evidence against me——
Mrs. Delane: (Interested.) That might be so.
Mr. Quirke: I would sooner it to have been any other beast nearly ever I had upon the rack.
Mrs. Delane: Is that so?
Mr. Quirke: I bade the Widow Early to kill it a fortnight ago—but she would not, she was that covetous!
Mrs. Delane: What was on it?
Mr. Quirke: How would I know what was on it? Whatever was on it, it was the will of God put it upon it—wasted it was, and shivering and refusing its share.