[_Much the same, except that the window is now on the right side. The
women are engaged in peeling potatoes. The Stranger is obviously much
embarrassed at the sudden change in the position of the window._
_Jeremiah._ 'Tis a terrible night--a terrible wet night.
_Molly._ Sure an' it's yourself that has no call to say the same, Jerry
Dunphy, an' you saying a minute since that ye were as dry as ye could be!
[_The rest break into a roar of laughter, with the exception of the
Stranger and the pig._
_Aloysius_ (_slapping his knee_). A good wan, that! It's yourself is the
smart girl, Molly!
[_The door is suddenly flung open with great violence and young_
Michael _enters. He is carrying a number of hurls._
_Jeremiah._ Power to ye, Michael avick! And did ye win to-day?
_Michael._ Is it win? And will ye tell me why wouldn't we win?
[Sheila _is about to speak, but checks herself as a thin piping voice
is heard chanting outside_.
_The Voice._
"There is a little man
In a dirty wee shebeen,
And the spalpeens do be leppin' in the bog."
[_The voice ends on a high note, which quavers away into silence._
_Sheila._ The blessed Saints preserve us! What was that?
_Mrs. M'Gann._ Musha, don't be frightened, child! Sure, it's only poor ould
Blithero[1] Pat. (_She goes to the door and opens it._) Come in, Pat, and
have a bite an' a sup to warm ye this terrible night.
[_The old man enters. He comes slowly over to the hearth, tapping with
his stick, and seats himself in front of the fire. He seems to stare
at the glowing turf. At last he speaks._
_Blithero Pat._ Comin' over the bog I met Black Finnegan. He had a powerful
drop o' the drink on him.
_Molly._ The Saints preserve us from that man!
_Blithero Pat_ (_continuing in a dull monotone_). And Shaun M'Gann was with
him.
[Mrs. M'Gann _sits back with a look of horror on her face_.
_Aloysius._ Shaun does be a terrible man when he's on the drink.
[_The pig rises and goes out by the door, which has been left open._
_Sheila._ The crathur! 'Tis himself can't bear to hear his master
miscalled.
_Blithero Pat_ (_still continuing in the same tone_). Shaun told me to tell
ye, Mrs. M'Gann, that he was coming home the way he'd kill ye entirely.
_Jeremiah_ (_starting up quickly, as the others recoil in horror_). We must
stop him. He's coming by the bog, ye said, Pat?
_Blithero Pat._ Ay! Be the bog it is.
_Aloysius._ Come on, all of ye!
[_Exeunt hastily all but_ Blithero Pat _and the Stranger_.
[Blithero Pat _chuckles softly. He then addresses the Stranger in a
hoarse whisper._
_Blithero Pat._ Divil the bit he's comin' be the bog. He's comin' be the
cross-roads.
[_The Stranger makes no reply._ Blithero Pat _laughs hideously and
goes out_.
[Footnote 1: A Connemara word signifying blind.]