] We'll be walking surely when his supper's done,
and you'll find we're great company, young fellow, when it's of the like of
you and me you'd hear the penny poets singing in an August Fair.
CHRISTY -- [innocently.] Did you kill your father?
PEGEEN -- [contemptuously.] She did not. She hit himself with a worn pick,
and the rusted poison did corrode his blood the way he never overed it, and
died after. That was a sneaky kind of murder did win small glory with the
boys itself. [She crosses to Christy's left.]
WIDOW QUIN -- [with good-humour.] -- If it didn't, maybe all knows a widow
woman has buried her children and destroyed her man is a wiser comrade for a
young lad than a girl, the like of you, who'd go helter-skeltering after any
man would let you a wink upon the road.
PEGEEN -- [breaking out into wild rage.] -- And you'll say that, Widow Quin,
and you gasping with the rage you had racing the hill beyond to look on his
face.
WIDOW QUIN -- [laughing derisively.] -- Me, is it? Well, Father Reilly has
cuteness to divide you now. (She pulls Christy up.) There's great temptation
in a man did slay his da, and we'd best be going, young fellow; so rise up and
come with me.
PEGEEN -- [seizing his arm.] -- He'll not stir. He's pot-boy in this place,
and I'll not have him stolen off and kidnabbed while himself's abroad.
WIDOW QUIN. It'd be a crazy pot-boy'd lodge him in the shebeen where he works
by day, so you'd have a right to come on, young fellow, till you see my little
houseen, a perch off on the rising hill.
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