The Playboy of the Western World

at all? Mahon Triumphantly. It was my own son hit me. Would you believe that? Jimmy Well, there’s wonders hidden in the heart of man! Philly Suspiciously. And what way was it done? Mahon Wandering about the room. I’m after walking hundreds and long scores of miles, winning clean beds and the fill of my belly four times in the day, and I doing nothing but telling stories of that naked truth. He comes to them a little aggressively. Give me a supeen and I’ll tell you now. Widow Quin comes in and stands aghast behind him. He is facing Jimmy and Philly, who are on the left. Jimmy Ask herself beyond. She’s the stuff hidden in her shawl. Widow Quin Coming to Mahon quickly. You here, is it? You didn’t go far at all? Mahon I seen the coasting steamer passing, and I got a drought upon me and a cramping leg, so I said, “The divil go along with him,” and turned again. Looking under her shawl. And let you give me a supeen, for I’m destroyed travelling since Tuesday was a week. Widow Quin Getting a glass, in a cajoling tone. Sit down then by the fire and take your ease for a space. You’ve a right to be destroyed indeed, with your walking, and fighting, and facing the sun Giving him poteen from a stone jar she has brought in.. There now is a drink for you, and may it be to your happiness and length of life. Mahon Taking glass greedily and sitting down by fire. God increase you! Widow Quin Taking men to the right stealthily. Do you know what? That man’s raving from his wound today, for I met him a while since telling a rambling tale of a tinker had him destroyed. Then he heard of Christy’s deed, and he up and says it was his son had cracked his skull. Oh isn’t madness a fright, for he’ll go killing someone yet, and he thinking it’s the man has struck him so? Jimmy Entirely convinced. It’s a fright, surely. I knew a party was kicked in the head by a red mare, and he went killing horses a great while, till he eat the insides of a clock and died after. Philly With suspicion. Did he see Christy? Widow Quin He didn’t. With a warning gesture. Let you not be putting him in mind of him, or you’ll be likely summoned if there’s murder done. Looking round at Mahon. Whisht! He’s listening. Wait now till you hear me taking him easy and unravelling all. She goes to Mahon. And what way are you feeling, mister? Are you in contentment now? Mahon Slightly emotional from his drink. I’m poorly only, for it’s a hard story the way I’m left today, when it was I did tend him from his hour of birth, and he a dunce never reached his second book, the way he’d come from school, many’s the day, with his legs lamed under him, and he blackened with his beatings like a tinker’s ass. It’s a hard story, I’m saying, the way some do have their next and nighest raising up a hand of murder on them, and some is lonesome getting their death with lamentation in the dead of night. Widow Quin Not knowing what to say. To hear you talking so quiet, who’d know you were the same fellow we seen pass today? Mahon I’m the same surely. The wrack and ruin of three score years; and it’s a terror to live that length, I tell you, and to have your sons going to the dogs against you, and you wore out scolding them, and skelping them, and God knows what. Philly To Jimmy. He’s not raving. To Widow Quin. Will you ask him what kind was his son? Widow Quin To Mahon, with a peculiar look. Was your son that hit you a lad of one year and a score maybe, a great hand at racing and lepping and licking the world? Mahon Turning on her with a roar of rage. Didn’t you hear me say he was the fool of men, the way from this out he’ll know the orphan’s lot with old and young making game of him and they swearing, raging, kicking at him like a mangy cur. A great burst of cheering outside, someway off. Mahon Putting his hands to his ears. What in the name of God do they want roaring below? Widow Quin With the shade of a smile. They’re cheering a young lad, the champion Playboy of the Western World. More cheering. Mahon Going to window. It’d split my heart to hear them, and I with pulses in my brainpan for a week gone by. Is it racing they are? Jimmy Looking from door. It is then. They are mounting him for the mule race will be run upon the sands. That’s the playboy on the winkered mule. Mahon Puzzled. That lad, is it? If you said it was a fool he was, I’d have laid a mighty oath he was the likeness of my wandering son. Uneasily, putting his hand to his head. Faith, I’m thinking I’ll go walking for to view the race. Widow Quin Stopping him, sharply. You will not. You’d best take the road to Belmullet, and not be dillydallying in this place where there isn’t a spot you could sleep. Philly Coming forward. Don’t mind her. Mount there on the bench and you’ll have a view of the whole. They’re hurrying before the tide will rise, and it’d be near over if you went down the pathway through the crags below. Mahon Mounts on bench, Widow Quin beside him. That’s a right view again the edge of the sea. They’re coming now from the point. He’s leading. Who is he at all? Widow Quin He’s the champion of the world, I tell you, and