Short Plays

coming again. Tramp Moving uneasily. Maybe if you’d a piece of a grey thread and a sharp needle⁠—there’s great safety in a needle, lady of the house⁠—I’d be putting a little stitch here and there in my old coat, the time I’ll be praying for his soul, and it going up naked to the saints of God. Nora Takes a needle and thread from the front of her dress and gives it to him. There’s the needle, stranger, and I’m thinking you won’t be lonesome, and you used to the back hills, for isn’t a dead man itself more company than to be sitting alone, and hearing the winds crying, and you not knowing on what thing your mind would stay? Tramp Slowly. It’s true, surely, and the Lord have mercy on us all! Nora goes out. The Tramp begins stitching one of the tags in his coat, saying the “De Profundis” under his breath. In an instant the sheet is drawn slowly down, and Dan Burke looks out. The Tramp moves uneasily, then looks up, and springs to his feet with a movement of terror. Dan With a hoarse voice. Don’t be afeard, stranger; a man that’s dead can do no hurt. Tramp Trembling. I meant no harm, your honour; and won’t you leave me easy to be saying a little prayer for your soul? A long whistle is heard outside. Dan Sitting up in his bed and speaking fiercely. Ah, the devil mend her.⁠ ⁠… Do you hear that, stranger? Did ever you hear another woman could whistle the like of that with two fingers in her mouth? He looks at the table hurriedly. I’m destroyed with the drouth, and let you bring me a drop quickly before herself will come back. Tramp Doubtfully. Is it not dead you are? Dan How would I be dead, and I as dry as a baked bone, stranger? Tramp Pouring out the whisky. What will herself say if she smells the stuff on you, for I’m thinking it’s not for nothing you’re letting on to be dead? Dan It is not, stranger, but she won’t be coming near me at all, and it’s not long now I’ll be letting on, for I’ve a cramp in my back, and my hip’s asleep on me, and there’s been the devil’s own fly itching my nose. It’s near dead I was wanting to sneeze, and you blathering about the rain, and Darcy bitterly⁠—the devil choke him⁠—and the towering church. Crying out impatiently. Give me that whisky. Would you have herself come back before I taste a drop at all? Tramp gives him the glass. Dan After drinking. Go over now to that cupboard, and bring me a black stick you’ll see in the west corner by the wall. Tramp Taking a stick from the cupboard. Is it that, your honour? Dan It is, stranger; it’s a long time I’m keeping that stick, for I’ve a bad wife in the house. Tramp With a queer look. Is it herself, master of the house, and she a grand woman to talk? Dan It’s herself, surely, it’s a bad wife she is⁠—a bad wife for an old man, and I’m getting old, God help me, though I’ve an arm to me still. He takes the stick in his hand. Let you wait now a short while, and it’s a great sight you’ll see in this room in two hours or three. He stops to listen. Is that somebody above? Tramp Listening. There’s a voice speaking on the path. Dan Put that stick here in the bed and smooth the sheet the way it was lying. He covers himself up hastily. Be falling to sleep now and don’t let on you know anything, or I’ll be having your life. I wouldn’t have told you at all but it’s destroyed with the drouth I was. Tramp Covering his head. Have no fear, master of the house. What is it I know of the like of you that I’d be saying a word or putting out my hand to stay you at all? He goes back to the fire, sits down on a stool with his back to the bed and goes on stitching his coat. Dan Under the sheet, querulously. Stranger! Tramp Quickly. Whisht! whisht! Be quiet, I’m telling you; they’re coming now at the door. Nora comes in with Micheal Dara, a tall, innocent young man, behind her. Nora I wasn’t long at all, stranger, for I met himself on the path. Tramp You were middling long, lady of the house. Nora There was no sign from himself? Tramp No sign at all, lady of the house. Nora To Micheal. Go over now and pull down the sheet, and look on himself, Micheal Dara, and you’ll see it’s the truth I’m telling you. Micheal I will not, Nora, I do be afeard of the dead. He sits down on a stool next the table facing the Tramp. Nora puts the kettle on a lower hook of the pot hooks, and piles turf under it. Nora Turning to Tramp. Will you drink a sup of tea with myself and the young man, stranger, or speaking more persuasively will you go into the little room and stretch yourself a short while on the bed, I’m thinking it’s destroyed you are walking the length of that way in the great rain. Tramp Is it to go away and leave you, and you having a wake, lady of the house? I will not, surely. He takes a drink from his glass which he has beside him. And it’s none of your tea I’m asking either. He goes on stitching. Nora makes the tea. Micheal After looking at the Tramp rather scornfully for a moment. That’s a poor coat you have, God help you, and I’m thinking it’s a poor tailor you are with it. Tramp If it’s a poor tailor I am,