MAURTEEN. O, listen to her dreamy and strange talk. Are you not cold? THE CHILD. I will crouch down beside you, For I have run a long, long way this night. BRIDGET. You have a comely shape. MAURTEEN. Your hair is wet. BRIDGET. I'll warm your chilly feet. MAURTEEN. You have come indeed A long, long way--for I have never seen Your pretty face--and must be tired and hungry, Here is some bread and wine. THE CHILD. The wine is bitter. Old mother, have you no sweet food for me? BRIDGET. I have some honey. (She goes into the next room.) MAURTEEN. You have coaxing ways, The mother was quite cross before you came. (BRIDGET returns with the honey and fills Porringer with milk.) BRIDGET. She is the child of gentle people; look At her white hands and at her pretty dress. I've brought you some new milk, but wait a while And I will put it to the fire to warm, For things well fitted for poor folk like us Would never please a high-born child like you. THE CHILD. From dawn, when you must blow the fire ablaze, You work your fingers to the bone, old mother. The young may lie in bed and dream and hope, But you must work your fingers to the bone Because your heart is old. BRIDGET. The young are idle. THE CHILD. Your memories have made you wise, old father; The young must sigh through many a dream and hope, But you are wise because your heart is old. (BRIDGET gives her more bread and honey.) MAURTEEN. O, who would think to find so young a girl Loving old age and wisdom? THE CHILD. No more, mother. MAURTEEN. What a small bite! The milk is ready now. (Hands it to her.) What a small sip! THE CHILD. Put on my shoes, old mother. Now I would like to dance now I have eaten, The reeds are dancing by Coolaney lake, And I would like to dance until the reeds And the white waves have danced themselves asleep. (BRIDGET puts on the shoes, and the CHILD is about to dance, but suddenly sees the crucifix and shrieks and covers her eyes.) What is that ugly thing on the black cross? FATHER HART. You cannot know how naughty your words are! That is our Blessed Lord. THE CHILD. Hide it away, BRIDGET. I have begun to be afraid again. THE CHILD. Hide it away! MAURTEEN. That would be wickedness! BRIDGET. That would be sacrilege! THE CHILD. The tortured thing Hide it away! MAURTEEN. Her parents are to blame. FATHER HART. That is the image of the Son of God. THE CHILD (caressing him) Hide it away, hide it away! MAURTEEN. No, no. FATHER HART. Because you are so young and like a bird, That must take fright at every stir of the leaves, I will go take it down. THE CHILD. Hide it away! And cover it out of sight and out of mind! (FATHER HART takes crucifix from wall and carries it towards inner room.) FATHER HART. Since you have come into this barony, I will instruct you in our blessed faith And being so keen witted you'll soon learn. (To the others.)