n dawn
Brightens above while you blow up the fire;
And evening finds you spreading the white cloth.
The young may lie in bed and dream and hope,
But you work on because your heart is old.

BRIDGET BRUIN.

The young are idle.

THE CHILD.

Old father, you are wise,
And all the years have gathered in your heart
To whisper of the wonders that are gone.
The young must sigh through many a dream and hope,
But you are wise because your heart is old.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

O, who would think to find so young a child
Loving old age and wisdom.

[BRIDGET _gives her more bread and honey._

THE CHILD.

No more, mother.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

What a small bite; The milk is ready now;
What a small sip!

THE CHILD.

Put on my shoes, old mother,
For I would like to dance now I have dined.
The reeds are dancing by Coolaney lake,
And I would like to dance until the reeds
And the loud wind, the white wave on the shore,
And all the stars have danced themselves to sleep.

[BRIDGET _having put on her shoes, she gets off the old man's knees
and is about to dance, but suddenly sees the crucifix and shrieks and
covers her eyes._

What is that ugly thing on the black cross?

FATHER HART.

You cannot know how naughty your words are!
That is Our Blessed Lord!

THE CHILD.

Hide it away!

BRIDGET BRUIN.

I have begun to be afraid again!

THE CHILD.

Hide it away!

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

That would be wickedness!

BRIDGET BRUIN.

That would be sacrilege!

THE CHILD

The tortured thing!
Hide it away.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

Her parents are to blame.

FATHER HART.

That is the image of the Son of God.

[_The_ CHILD _puts her arm round his neck lovingly and kisses him.

THE CHILD.

Hide it away! Hide it away!

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

No! no!

FATHER HART.

Because you are so young and little a child
I will go take it down.

THE CHILD.

Hide it away,
And cover it out of sight and out of mind.

FATHER HART (_takes it down and carries it towards the inner room)._

Since you have come into this barony
I will instruct you in our blessed faith:
Being a clever child you will soon learn.

(_To the others.)

We must be tender with all budding things,
Our Maker let no thought of Calvary
Trouble the morning stars in their first song.

[_Puts the crucifix in the inner room._

THE CHILD.

O, what a nice, smooth floor to dance upon!
The