SARAH Leave down the tin can, Mary Byrne, for I hear the drouth upon your tongue to-day. MARY There’s not a drink-house from this place to the fair, Sarah Casey; the way you’ll find me below with the full price, and not a farthing gone. _[She turns to go off left._ SARAH _jumping up, and picking up the hammer threateningly._—Put down that can, I’m saying. MARY _looking at her for a moment in terror, and putting down the bundle in the ditch._—Is it raving mad you’re going, Sarah Casey, and you the pride of women to destroy the world? SARAH _going up to her, and giving her a push off left._—I’ll show you if it’s raving mad I am. Go on from this place, I’m saying, and be wary now. MARY _turning back after her._—If I go, I’ll be telling old and young you’re a weathered heathen savage, Sarah Casey, the one did put down a head of the parson’s cabbage to boil in the pot with your clothes _(the Priest comes in behind her, on the left, and listens)_, and quenched the flaming candles on the throne of God the time your shadow fell within the pillars of the chapel door. [_Sarah turns on her, and she springs round nearly into the Priest’s arms. When she sees him, she claps her shawl over her mouth, and goes up towards the ditch, laughing to herself._ PRIEST _going to Sarah, half terrified at the language that he has heard._—Well, aren’t you a fearful lot? I’m thinking it’s only humbug you were making at the fall of night, and you won’t need me at all. SARAH _with anger still in her voice._—Humbug is it! Would you be turning back upon your spoken promise in the face of God? PRIEST _dubiously._—I’m thinking you were never christened, Sarah Casey; and it would be a queer job to go dealing Christian sacraments unto the like of you. _(Persuasively feeling in his pocket.)_ So it would be best, maybe, I’d give you a shilling for to drink my health, and let you walk on, and not trouble me at all. SARAH That’s your talking, is it? If you don’t stand to your spoken word, holy father, I’ll make my own complaint to the mitred bishop in the face of all. PRIEST You’d do that! SARAH I would surely, holy father, if I walked to the city of Dublin with blood and blisters on my naked feet. PRIEST _uneasily scratching his ear._—I wish this day was done, Sarah Casey; for I’m thinking it’s a risky thing getting mixed up in any matters with the like of you. SARAH Be hasty then, and you’ll have us done with before you’d think at all. PRIEST _giving in._—Well, maybe it’s right you are, and let you come up to the chapel when you see me looking from the door. [_He goes up into the chapel._ SARAH _calling after him._—We will, and God preserve you, holy father.