and the calves mooing, and my own teeth rattling with the fear.
JIMMY, flatteringly.
What is there to hurt you, and you a fine, hardy girl would knock the head of any two men in the place?
PEGEEN, working herself up.
Isn't there the harvest boys with their tongues red for drink, and the ten tinkers is camped in the east glen, and the thousand militia―bad cess to them!―walking idle through the land. There’s lots surely to hurt me, and I won’t stop alone in it, let himself do what he will.
MICHAEL.
If you're that afeard, let Shawn Keogh stop along with you. It's the will of God, I'm thinking, himself should be seeing to you now.
They all turn on Shawn.
SHAWN, in horrified confusion.
I would and welcome, Michael James, but I'm afeard of Father Reilly; and what at all would the Holy Father and the Cardinals of Rome be saying if they heard I did the like of that?
9
