PEGEEN.
I'd be well-nigh afeard of that lad myself, I'm thinking. And there was no one in it but the two of you alone?
CHRISTY.
The divil a one, though he'd sons and daughters walking all great states and territories of the world, and not a one of them, to this day, but would say their seven curses on him, and they rousing up to let a cough or sneeze, maybe, in the deadness of the night.
PEGEEN, nodding her head.
Well, you should have been a queer lot. I never cursed my father the like of that, though I'm twenty and more years of age.
CHRISTY.
Then you'd have cursed mine, I'm telling you, and he a man never gave peace to any, saving when he'd get two months or three, or be locked in the asylums for battering peelers or assaulting men, (with depression) the way it was a bitter life he led me till I did up a Tuesday and halve his skull.
PEGEEN, putting her hand on his shoulder.
Well, you'll have peace in this place, Christy
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