holding his head high with the wonders of the world. Walk on from this, for I'll not have him tormented, and he destroyed travelling since Tuesday was a week.
WIDOW QUIN, peaceably.
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.
38
