I'll
put it up in the ditch the way it will be handy
in the morning; and now we've that done,
Michael Byrne, I'll go along with you and
welcome for Tim Flaherty's hens.
[
She puts the can in the ditch. MARY --
sleepily. -- I've a grand story of
the great queens of Ireland with white necks
on them the like of Sarah Casey, and fine
arms would hit you a slap the way Sarah
Casey would hit you.
SARAH --
beckoning on the left. -- Come
along now, Michael, while she's falling asleep.
30
[
He goes towards left. Mary sees that
they are going, starts up suddenly, and
turns over on her hands and knees. MARY --
piteously. -- Where is it you're
going? Let you walk back here, and not be
leaving me lonesome when the night is fine.
SARAH. Don't be waking the world with
your talk when we're going up through the
back wood to get two of Tim Flaherty's hens
are roosting in the ash-tree above at the well.
MARY. And it's leaving me lone you are?
Come back here, Sarah Casey. Come back
here, I'm saying; or if it's off you must go,
leave me the two little coppers you have, the
way I can walk up in a short while, and get
another pint for my sleep.
SARAH. It's too much you have taken.
Let you stretch yourself out and take a long
sleep; for isn't that the best thing any woman
can do, and she an old drinking heathen like
yourself.
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