SARAH _sitting down beside him and throwing sticks on the fire._—If it’s the divil’s job, let you mind it, and leave your speeches that would choke a fool. MICHAEL _slowly and glumly._—And it’s you’ll go talking of fools, Sarah Casey, when no man did ever hear a lying story even of your like unto this mortal day. You to be going beside me a great while, and rearing a lot of them, and then to be setting off with your talk of getting married, and your driving me to it, and I not asking it at all. [_Sarah turns her back to him and arranges something in the ditch._ MICHAEL _angrily._—Can’t you speak a word when I’m asking what is it ails you since the moon did change? SARAH _musingly._—I’m thinking there isn’t anything ails me, Michael Byrne; but the spring-time is a queer time, and it’s queer thoughts maybe I do think at whiles. MICHAEL It’s hard set you’d be to think queerer than welcome, Sarah Casey; but what will you gain dragging me to the priest this night, I’m saying, when it’s new thoughts you’ll be thinking at the dawn of day? SARAH _teasingly._—It’s at the dawn of day I do be thinking I’d have a right to be going off to the rich tinkers do be travelling from Tibradden to the Tara Hill; for it’d be a fine life to be driving with young Jaunting Jim, where there wouldn’t be any big hills to break the back of you, with walking up and walking down. MICHAEL _with dismay._—It’s the like of that you do be thinking! SARAH The like of that, Michael Byrne, when there is a bit of sun in it, and a kind air, and a great smell coming from the thorn-trees is above your head. MICHAEL _looks at her for a moment with horror, and then hands her the ring._—Will that fit you now? SARAH _trying it on._—It’s making it tight you are, and the edges sharp on the tin. MICHAEL _looking at it carefully._—It’s the fat of your own finger, Sarah Casey; and isn’t it a mad thing I’m saying again that you’d be asking marriage of me, or making a talk of going away from me, and you thriving and getting your good health by the grace of the Almighty God? SARAH _giving it back to him._—Fix it now, and it’ll do, if you’re wary you don’t squeeze it again. MICHAEL _moodily, working again._—It’s easy saying be wary; there’s many things easy said, Sarah Casey, you’d wonder a fool even would be saying at all. _(He starts violently.)_ The divil mend you, I’m scalded again! SARAH _scornfully._—If you are, it’s a clumsy man you are this night, Michael Byrne _(raising her voice)_; and let you make haste now, or herself will be coming with the porter. MICHAEL _defiantly, raising his voice._—Let me make haste? I’ll be making haste maybe to hit you a great clout; for I’m thinking on the day I got you above at Rathvanna, and the way you began crying out and saying, “I’ll go back to my ma,” and I’m thinking on the way I came behind you that time, and hit you a great clout in the lug, and how quiet and easy it was you came along with me from that hour to this present day.