SARAH. I'll send her to sleep again, or
get her out of it one way or another; for it'd
be a bad case to have a divil's scholar the like
of her turning the priest against us maybe
with her godless talk.
MARY --
waking up, and looking at them
with curiosity, blandly. -- That's fine things
you have on you, Sarah Casey; and it's a great
stir you're making this day, washing your
face. I'm that used to the hammer, I wouldn't
hear it at all, but washing is a rare thing, and
you're after waking me up, and I having a
great sleep in the sun.
[
She looks around cautiously at the
bundle in which she has hidden the
bottles. SARAH --
coaxingly. -- Let you stretch
out again for a sleep, Mary Byrne, for it'll
be a middling time yet before we go to the
fair.
MARY --
with suspicion. -- That's a sweet
tongue you have, Sarah Casey; but if sleep's
a grand thing, it's a grand thing to be waking
up a day the like of this, when there's a warm
sun in it, and a kind air, and you'll hear the
35
cuckoos singing and crying out on the top of
the hills.
SARAH. If it's that gay you are, you'd
have a right to walk down and see would you
get a few halfpence from the rich men do be
driving early to the fair.
MARY. When rich men do be driving
early, it's queer tempers they have, the Lord
forgive them; the way it's little but bad words
and swearing out you'd get from them all.
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