CHRISTY. _with a new arrogance._—And for what is it you’re wanting to get shut of me? SHAWN. _looking to the Widow for help._—I’m a poor scholar with middling faculties to coin a lie, so I’ll tell you the truth, Christy Mahon. I’m wedding with Pegeen beyond, and I don’t think well of having a clever fearless man the like of you dwelling in her house. CHRISTY. _almost pugnaciously._—And you’d be using bribery for to banish me? SHAWN. _in an imploring voice._—Let you not take it badly, mister honey; isn’t beyond the best place for you where you’ll have golden chains and shiny coats and you riding upon hunters with the ladies of the land. [_He makes an eager sign to the Widow Quin to come to help him._] WIDOW QUIN. _coming over._—It’s true for him, and you’d best quit off and not have that poor girl setting her mind on you, for there’s Shaneen thinks she wouldn’t suit you though all is saying that she’ll wed you now. [_Christy beams with delight._] SHAWN. _in terrified earnest._—She wouldn’t suit you, and she with the divil’s own temper the way you’d be strangling one another in a score of days. (_He makes the movement of strangling with his hands._) It’s the like of me only that she’s fit for, a quiet simple fellow wouldn’t raise a hand upon her if she scratched itself. WIDOW QUIN. _putting Shawn’s hat on Christy._—Fit them clothes on you anyhow, young fellow, and he’d maybe loan them to you for the sports. (_Pushing him towards inner door._) Fit them on and you can give your answer when you have them tried. CHRISTY. _beaming, delighted with the clothes._—I will then. I’d like herself to see me in them tweeds and hat. (_He goes into room and shuts the door._) SHAWN. _in great anxiety._—He’d like herself to see them. He’ll not leave us, Widow Quin. He’s a score of divils in him the way it’s well nigh certain he will wed Pegeen. WIDOW QUIN. _jeeringly._—It’s true all girls are fond of courage and do hate the like of you. SHAWN. _walking about in desperation._—Oh, Widow Quin, what’ll I be doing now? I’d inform again him, but he’d burst from Kilmainham and he’d be sure and certain to destroy me. If I wasn’t so God-fearing, I’d near have courage to come behind him and run a pike into his side. Oh, it’s a hard case to be an orphan and not to have your father that you’re used to, and you’d easy kill and make yourself a hero in the sight of all. (_Coming up to her._) Oh, Widow Quin, will you find me some contrivance when I’ve promised you a ewe? WIDOW QUIN. A ewe’s a small thing, but what would you give me if I did wed him and did save you so? SHAWN. _with astonishment._—You? WIDOW QUIN. Aye. Would you give me the red cow you have and the mountainy ram, and the right of way across your rye path, and a load of dung at Michaelmas, and turbary upon the western hill?