PEGEEN. Oh, God mend them! [_She puts a shawl over her head and runs out._]
CHRISTY. _looking from one to the other. Still in high spirits._—I’d best go to her aid maybe. I’m handy with ewes.
WIDOW QUIN. _closing the door._—She can do that much, and there is Shaneen has long speeches for to tell you now. [_She sits down with an amused smile._]
SHAWN. _taking something from his pocket and offering it to Christy._—Do you see that, mister?
CHRISTY. _looking at it._—The half of a ticket to the Western States!
SHAWN. _trembling with anxiety._—I’ll give it to you and my new hat (_pulling it out of hamper_); and my breeches with the double seat (_pulling it off_); and my new coat is woven from the blackest shearings for three miles around (_giving him the coat_); I’ll give you the whole of them, and my blessing, and the blessing of Father Reilly itself, maybe, if you’ll quit from this and leave us in the peace we had till last night at the fall of dark.
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.