TIMMY. If I’d a mind I’d be telling you of a real wonder this day, and the way you’ll be having a great joy, maybe, you’re not thinking on at all. MARTIN DOUL. _interested._ — Are they putting up a still behind in the rocks? It’d be a grand thing if I’d sup handy the way I wouldn’t be destroying myself groping up across the bogs in the rain falling. TIMMY. _still moodily._ — It’s not a still they’re bringing, or the like of it either. MARY DOUL. _persuasively, to Timmy._ — Maybe they’re hanging a thief, above at the bit of a tree. I’m told it’s a great sight to see a man hanging by his neck; but what joy would that be to ourselves, and we not seeing it at all? TIMMY. _more pleasantly._ — They’re hanging no one this day, Mary Doul, and yet, with the help of God, you’ll see a power hanged before you die. MARY DOUL. Well you’ve queer hum-bugging talk.... What way would I see a power hanged, and I a dark woman since the seventh year of my age? TIMMY. Did ever you hear tell of a place across a bit of the sea, where there is an island, and the grave of the four beautiful saints? MARY DOUL. I’ve heard people have walked round from the west and they speaking of that. TIMMY. _impressively._ — There’s a green ferny well, I’m told, behind of that place, and if you put a drop of the water out of it on the eyes of a blind man, you’ll make him see as well as any person is walking the world. MARTIN DOUL. _with excitement._ — Is that the truth, Timmy? I’m thinking you’re telling a lie. TIMMY. _gruffly._ — That’s the truth, Martin Doul, and you may believe it now, for you’re after believing a power of things weren’t as likely at all. MARY DOUL. Maybe we could send us a young lad to bring us the water. I could wash a naggin bottle in the morning, and I’m thinking Patch Ruadh would go for it, if we gave him a good drink, and the bit of money we have hid in the thatch. TIMMY. It’d be no good to be sending a sinful man the like of ourselves, for I’m told the holiness of the water does be getting soiled with the villainy of your heart, the time you’d be carrying it, and you looking round on the girls, maybe, or drinking a small sup at a still. MARTIN DOUL. _with disappointment._ — It’d be a long terrible way to be walking ourselves, and I’m thinking that’s a wonder will bring small joy to us at all. TIMMY. _turning on him impatiently._ — What is it you want with your walking? It’s as deaf as blind you’re growing if you’re not after hearing me say it’s in this place the wonder would be done. MARTIN DOUL. _with a flash of anger._ — If it is can’t you open the big slobbering mouth you have and say what way it’ll be done, and not be making blather till the fall of night. TIMMY. _jumping up._ — I’ll be going on now (_Mary Doul rises_), and not wasting time talking civil talk with the like of you.