FATHER HART
MAURTEEN
No one's child at all.
She often dreams that some one has gone by,
When there was nothing but a puff of wind.
MARY
They have taken away the blessed quicken wood,
They will not bring good luck into the house;
Yet I am glad that I was courteous to them,
For are not they, likewise, children of God?
FATHER HART
Colleen, they are the children of the fiend,
And they have power until the end of Time,
When God shall fight with them a great pitched battle
And hack them into pieces.
MARY
He will smile,
Father, perhaps, and open His great door.