PHILLY. The peelers is fearing him, and if you'd that lad in the house there
isn't one of them would come smelling around if the dogs itself were lapping
poteen from the dungpit of the yard.
JIMMY. Bravery's a treasure in a lonesome place, and a lad would kill his
father, I'm thinking, would face a foxy divil with a pitchpike on the flags of
hell.
PEGEEN. It's the truth they're saying, and if I'd that lad in the house, I
wouldn't be fearing the loosed kharki cut-throats, or the walking dead.
CHRISTY -- [swelling with surprise and triumph.] -- Well, glory be to God!
MICHAEL -- [with deference.] -- Would you think well to stop here and be
pot-boy, mister honey, if we gave you good wages, and didn't destroy you with
the weight of work?
SHAWN -- [coming forward uneasily.] -- That'd be a queer kind to bring into a
decent quiet household with the like of Pegeen Mike.
PEGEEN -- [very sharply.] -- Will you whisht? Who's speaking to you?
SHAWN -- [retreating.] A bloody-handed murderer the like of . . .
PEGEEN -- [snapping at him.] -- Whisht I am saying; we'll take no fooling from
your like at all. (To Christy with a honeyed voice.) And you, young fellow,
you'd have a right to stop, I'm thinking, for we'd do our all and utmost to
content your needs.
CHRISTY -- [overcome with wonder.] -- And I'd be safe in this place from the
searching law?
MICHAEL. You would, surely. If they're not fearing you, itself, the peelers
in this place is decent droughty poor fellows, wouldn't touch a cur dog and
not give warning in the dead of night.
Pages:
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33