"let you walk down now and tell the priest you'll wed the Widow Casey in a score of days."
WIDOW QUIN.
And what kind was she?
CHRISTY, with horror.
A walking terror from beyond the hills, and she two score and five years, and two hundredweights and five pounds in the weighing scales, with a limping leg on her, and a blinded eye, and she a woman of noted misbehaviour with the old and young.
GIRLS, clustering round him, serving him.
Glory be!
WIDOW QUIN.
And what did he want driving you to wed with her? (She takes a bit of the chicken.)
CHRISTY, eating with growing satisfaction.
He was letting on I was wanting a protector from the harshness of the world, and he without a thought the whole while but how he'd have her hut to live in and her gold to drink.
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