nd says it was his son had cracked his skull.
O isn't madness a fright, for he'll go killing someone yet, and he
thinking it's the man has struck him so?

JIMMY -- [entirely convinced.] It's a fright, surely. I knew a party
was kicked in the head by a red mare, and he went killing horses a great
while, till he eat the insides of a clock and died after.

PHILLY -- [with suspicion.] -- Did he see Christy?

WIDOW QUIN. He didn't. (With a warning gesture.) Let you not be putting
him in mind of him, or you'll be likely summoned if there's murder done.
(Looking round at Mahon.) Whisht! He's listening. Wait now till you hear
me taking him easy and unravelling all. (She goes to Mahon.) And what
way are you feeling, mister? Are you in contentment now?

MAHON -- [slightly emotional from his drink.] -- I'm poorly only, for
it's a hard story the way I'm left to-day, when it was I did tend him
from his hour of birth, and he a dunce never reached his second book,
the way he'd come from school, many's the day, with his legs lamed under
him, and he blackened with his beatings like a tinker's ass. It's a hard
story, I'm saying, the way some do have their next and nighest raising
up a hand of murder on them, and some is lonesome getting their death
with lamentation in the dead of night.

WIDOW QUIN -- [not knowing what to say.] -- To hear you talking so
quiet, who'd know you were the same fellow we seen pass to-day?

MAHON. I'm the same surely. The wrack and ruin of three score years;
and it's a terror to live that length, I tell you, and to have your
sons going to the dogs against you, and you wore out scolding them, and
skelping them, and God knows what.

PHILLY -- [to Jimmy.] -- He's not raving. (To Widow Quin.) Will you ask
him what kind was his son?

WIDOW QUIN -- [to Mahon, with a peculiar look.] -- Was your son that
hit you a lad of one year and a score maybe, a great hand at racing and
lepping and licking the world?

MAHON -- [turning on her with a roar of rage.] -- Didn't you hear me say
he was the fool of men, the way from this out he'll know the orphan's
lot with old and young making game of him and they swearing, raging,
kicking at him like a mangy cur. [A great burst of cheering outside,
someway off.]

MAHON -- [putting his hands to his ears.] -- What in the name of God do
they want roaring below?

WIDOW QUIN -- [with the shade of a smile.] -- They're cheering a young
lad, the champion Playboy of the Western Wor