WIDOW QUIN.
There's maybe worse than a dry hearth and a widow woman and your glass at night. So you hit him then?
CHRISTY, getting almost excited.
I did not. "I won't wed her," says I, "when all know she did suckle me for six weeks when I came into the world, and she a hag this day with a tongue on her has the crows and seabirds scattered, the way they wouldn't cast a shadow on her garden with the dread of her curse."
WIDOW QUIN, teasingly.
That one should be right company.
SARA, eagerly.
Don't mind her. Did you kill him then?
CHRISTY.
"She's too good for the like of you," says he, "and go on now or I'll flatten you out like a crawling beast has passed under a dray." "You will not if I can help it," says I. "Go on," says he, "or I'll have the divil making garters
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