PEGEEN, in blank amazement.
This night is it?
WIDOW QUIN, going over.
This night. "It isn't fitting," says the priesteen, "to have his likeness lodging with an orphaned girl." (To Christy.) God save you, mister!
CHRISTY, shyly.
God save you kindly!
WIDOW QUIN. looking at him with half-amused curiosity.
Well, aren't you a little smiling fellow? It should have been great and bitter torments did rouse your spirits to a deed of blood.
CHRISTY, doubtfully.
It should, maybe.
WIDOW QUIN.
It's more than "maybe" I'm saying, and it'd soften my heart to see you sitting so simple with your cup and cake, and you fitter to be saying your catechism than slaying your da.
PEGEEN, at counter, washing glasses.
There's talking when any'd see he's fit to be
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