MICHAEL, loudly.
Stop your noising, and sit down by the hearth.
Gives him a push and goes to counter laughing.
SHAWN, turning back, wringing his hands.
Oh, Father Reilly and the saints of God, where will I hide myself to-day? Oh, St. Joseph and St. Patrick and St. Brigid and St. James, have mercy on me now!
Shawn turns round, sees door clear, and makes
a rush for it.
MICHAEL, catching him by the coat-tail.
You'd be going, is it?
SHAWN, screaming.
Leave me go, Michael James, leave me go, you old Pagan, leave me go, or I'll get the curse of the priests on you, and of the scarlet-coated bishops of the Courts of Rome.
With a sudden movement he pulls himself out of his coat, and disappears out of the door, leaving his coat in Michael's hands.
MICHAEL, turning round, and holding up coat.
Well, there's the coat of a Christian man. Oh, there's sainted glory this day in the lone-
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