ar carts on the road. (_She gets up, and goes
to the door._)

MARTIN. It's the people coming back from the fair. Shut the
door, Mary; I wouldn't like them to see how bare the house is; and I'll
put a smear of ashes on the window, the way they won't see we're here at
all.

BLIND MAN (_raising his head suddenly_). Do not do that; but
open the door wide, and let the blessing of God come in on you.
(MARY _opens the door again. He takes up his fiddle, and begins
to play on it. A little boy puts in his head at the door; and then
another head is seen, and another with that again._)

BLIND MAN. Who is that at the door?

MARY. Little boys that came to listen to you.

BLIND MAN. Come in, boys. (_Three or four come inside._)

BLIND MAN. Boys, I am listening to the carts coming home from
the fair. Let you go out, and stop the people; tell them they must come
in: there is a wedding-dance here this evening.

BOY. The people are going home. They wouldn't stop for us.

BLIND MAN. Tell them to come in; and there will be as fine a
dance as ever they saw. But they must all give a present to the man and
woman that are newly married.

ANOTHER BOY. Why would they come in? They can have a dance of
their own at any time. There is a piper in the big town.

BLIND MAN. Say to them that _I myself_ tell them to come in;
and to bring every one a present to the newly-married woman.

BOY. And who are you yourself?

BLIND MAN. Tell them it is Raftery the poet is here, and that
is calling to them.

(_The boys run out, tumbling over one another._)

MARTIN. Are you Raftery, the great poet I heard talk of since I
was born! (_taking his hand_). Seven hundred thousand welcomes before
you; and it is a great honour to us you to be here.

MARY. Raftery the poet! Now there is luck on us! The first man
that brought us his blessing, and that eat food in my own house, he to
be Raftery the poet! And I hearing the other day you were sick and near
your death. And I see no sign of sickness on you now.

BLIND MAN. I am well, I am well now, the Lord be praised for
it.

MARTIN. I heard talk of you as often as there are fingers on my
hands, and toes on my feet. But indeed I never thought to have the luck
of seeing you.

MARY. And it is you that made 'County Mayo,' and the
'Repentance,' and 'The Weaver,' and the 'Shining Flower.' It is often I
thought there should be no woman in the world so proud as Mary Hynes,
with the way you praised her.

BLIN