FATHER HART. Because you are so young and little a child I will go take it down. THE CHILD. Hide it away, And cover it out of sight and out of mind. [_FATHER HART takes it down and carries it towards the inner room._ FATHER HART. Since you have come into this barony, I will instruct you in our blessed faith: Being a clever child, you will soon learn. [_To the others._] We must be tender with all budding things. Our Maker let no thought of Calvary Trouble the morning stars in their first song. [_Puts the crucifix in the inner room._ THE CHILD. Here is level ground for dancing. I will dance. The wind is blowing on the waving reeds, The wind is blowing on the heart of man. [_She dances, swaying about like the reeds._ MAIRE [_to SHAWN BRUIN_]. Just now when she came near I thought I heard Other small steps beating upon the floor, And a faint music blowing in the wind, Invisible pipes giving her feet the time. SHAWN BRUIN. I heard no step but hers. MAIRE BRUIN. Look to the bolt! Because the unholy powers are abroad. MAURTEEN BRUIN [_to THE CHILD_]. Come over here, and if you promise me Not to talk wickedly of holy things I will give you something. THE CHILD. Bring it me, old father! [_MAURTEEN BRUIN goes into the next room._ FATHER HART. I will have queen cakes when you come to me! [_MAURTEEN BRUIN returns and lays a piece of money on the table. THE CHILD makes a gesture of refusal._ MAURTEEN BRUIN. It will buy lots of toys; see how it glitters! THE CHILD. Come, tell me, do you love me? MAURTEEN BRUIN. I love you! THE CHILD. Ah, but you love this fireside! FATHER HART. I love you. THE CHILD. But you love Him above. BRIDGET BRUIN. She is blaspheming. THE CHILD [_to MAIRE_]. And do you love me? MAIRE BRUIN. I—I do not know. THE CHILD. You love that great tall fellow over there: Yet I could make you ride upon the winds, Run on the top of the dishevelled tide, And dance upon the mountains like a flame! MAIRE BRUIN. Queen of the Angels and kind Saints, defend us! Some dreadful fate has fallen: a while ago The wind cried out and took the primroses, And she ran by me laughing in the wind, And I gave milk and fire, and she came in And made you hide the blessed crucifix. FATHER HART. You fear because of her wild, pretty prattle; She knows no better. [_To THE CHILD_] Child, how old are you? THE CHILD.