story, they'd
have great blabbing this night at the wake.

PEGEEN. I'll maybe tell them, and I'll maybe not.

SHAWN. They are coming at the door, Will you whisht, I'm saying?

PEGEEN. Whisht yourself.

[She goes behind counter. Michael James, fat jovial publican, comes
in followed by Philly Cullen, who is thin and mistrusting, and Jimmy
Farrell, who is fat and amorous, about forty-five.]

MEN -- [together.] -- God bless you. The blessing of God on this place.

PEGEEN. God bless you kindly.

MICHAEL -- [to men who go to the counter.] -- Sit down now, and take
your rest. (Crosses to Shawn at the fire.) And how is it you are, Shawn
Keogh? Are you coming over the sands to Kate Cassidy's wake?

SHAWN. I am not, Michael James. I'm going home the short cut to my bed.

PEGEEN -- [speaking across the counter.] -- He's right too, and have
you no shame, Michael James, to be quitting off for the whole night, and
leaving myself lonesome in the shop?

MICHAEL -- [good-humouredly.] Isn't it the same whether I go for the
whole night or a part only? and I'm thinking it's a queer daughter you
are if you'd have me crossing backward through the Stooks of the Dead
Women, with a drop taken.

PEGEEN. If I am a queer daughter, it's a queer father'd be leaving me
lonesome these twelve hours of dark, and I piling the turf with the dogs
barking, 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?

MICHAEL -- [with contempt.] -- God help you! Can't you sit in by the
hearth with the light lit and herself beyond in the room? You'll do that
surely, for I've heard tell there's a queer fellow abov