Short Plays

epub:type="z3998:persona">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. Mary Coming down to them, speaking with amazement and consternation, but without anger. Going to the chapel! It’s at marriage you’re fooling again, maybe? Sarah turns her back on her. It was for that you were washing your face, and you after sending me for porter at the fall of night the way I’d drink a good half from the jug? Going round in front of Sarah. Is it at marriage you’re fooling again? Sarah Triumphantly. It is, Mary Byrne. I’ll be married now in a short while; and from this day there will no one have a right to call me a dirty name and I selling cans in Wicklow or Wexford or the city of Dublin itself. Mary Turning to Michael. And it’s yourself is wedding her, Michael Byrne? Michael Gloomily. It is, God spare us. Mary Looks at Sarah for a moment, and then bursts out into a laugh of derision. Well, she’s a tight, hardy girl, and it’s no lie; but I never knew till this day it was a black born fool I had for a son. You’ll breed asses, I’ve heard them say, and poaching dogs, and horses’d go licking the wind, but it’s a hard thing, God help me, to breed sense in a son. Michael Gloomily. If I didn’t marry her, she’d be walking off to Jaunting Jim maybe at the fall of night; and it’s well yourself knows there isn’t the like of her for getting money and selling songs to the men. Mary And you’re thinking it’s paying gold to his reverence would make a woman stop when she’s a mind to go? Sarah Angrily. Let you not be destroying us with your talk when I’ve as good a right to a decent marriage as any speckled female does be sleeping in the black hovels above, would choke a mule. Mary Soothingly. It’s as good a right you have surely, Sarah Casey, but what good will it do? Is it putting that ring on your finger will keep you from getting an aged woman and losing the fine face you have, or be easing your pains; when it’s the grand ladies do be married in silk dresses, with rings of gold, that do pass any woman with their share of torment in the hour of birth, and do be paying the doctors in the city of Dublin a great price at that time, the like of what you’d pay for a good ass and a cart? She sits down. Sarah Puzzled. Is that the truth? Mary Pleased with the point she has made. Wouldn’t any know it’s the truth? Ah, it’s a few short years you are yet in the world, Sarah Casey, and it’s little or nothing at all maybe you know about it. Sarah Vehement but uneasy. What is it yourself knows of the fine ladies when they wouldn’t let the like of you go near them at all? Mary If you do be drinking a little sup in one town and another town, it’s soon you get great knowledge and a great sight into the world. You’ll see men there, and women there, sitting up on the ends of barrels in the dark night, and they making great talk would soon have the like of you, Sarah Casey, as wise as a March hare. Michael To Sarah. That’s the truth she’s saying, and maybe if you’ve sense in you at all, you’d have a right still to leave your fooling, and not be wasting our gold. Sarah Decisively. If it’s wise or fool I am, I’ve made a good bargain and I’ll stand to it now. Mary What is it he’s making you give? Michael The ten shillings in gold, and the tin can is above tied in the sack. Mary Looking at the bundle with surprise and dread. The bit of gold and the tin can, is it? Michael The half a sovereign and the gallon can. Mary Scrambling to her feet quickly. Well, I think I’ll be walking off the road to the fair the way you won’t be destroying me going too fast on the hills. She goes a few steps towards