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 Mahon, and none to trouble you, and it's near
time a fine lad like you should have your good share of the earth.

CHRISTY. It's time surely, and I a seemly fellow with great strength in
me and bravery of... [Someone knocks.]

CHRISTY -- [clinging to Pegeen.] -- Oh, glory! it's late for knocking,
and this last while I'm in terror of the peelers, and the walking dead.
[Knocking again.]

PEGEEN. Who's there?

VOICE -- [outside.] Me.

PEGEEN. Who's me?

VOICE. The Widow Quin.

PEGEEN [jumping up and giving him the bread and milk.] -- Go on now with
your supper, and let on to be sleepy, for if she found you were such
a warrant to talk, she'd be stringing gabble till the dawn of day. (He
takes bread and sits shyly with his back to the door.)

PEGEEN [opening door, with temper.] -- What ails you, or what is it
you're wanting at this hour of the night?

WIDOW QUIN -- [coming in a step and peering at Christy.] -- I'm after
meeting Shawn Keogh and Father Reilly below, who told me of your
curiosity man, and they fearing by this time he was maybe roaring,
romping on your hands with drink.

PEGEEN [pointing to Christy.] -- Look now is he roaring, and he
stretched away drowsy with his supper and his mug of milk. Walk down and
tell that to Father Reilly and to Shaneen Keogh.

WIDOW QUIN -- [coming forward.] -- I'll not see them again, for I've
their word to lead that lad forward for to lodge with me.

PEGEEN -- [in blank amazement.] -- This night, is it?

WIDOW QUIN -- [going over.] -- This night. "It isn't fitting," says the
priesteen, "to have his likeness lodging with an orphaned girl." (To
Christy.) God save you, mister!

CHRISTY -- [shyly.] -- God save you kindly.

WIDOW QUIN -- [looking at him with half-amazed curiosity.] -- Well,
aren't you a little smiling fellow? It should have been great and bitter
torments did rouse your spirits to a deed of