CHRISTY -- [flattered.] Aye; it's maybe something big.

JIMMY. He's a wicked-looking young fellow. Maybe he followed after a young
woman on a lonesome night.

CHRISTY -- [shocked.] Oh, the saints forbid, mister; I was all times a decent
lad.

PHILLY -- [turning on Jimmy.] -- You're a silly man, Jimmy Farrell. He said
his father was a farmer a while since, and there's himself now in a poor
state. Maybe the land was grabbed from him, and he did what any decent man
would do.

MICHAEL -- [to Christy, mysteriously.] -- Was it bailiffs?

CHRISTY. The divil a one.

MICHAEL. Agents?

CHRISTY. The divil a one.

MICHAEL. Landlords?

CHRISTY -- [peevishly.] Ah, not at all, I'm saying. You'd see the like of
them stories on any little paper of a Munster town. But I'm not calling to
mind any person, gentle, simple, judge or jury, did the like of me. [They all
draw nearer with delighted curiosity.]

PHILLY. Well, that lad's a puzzle--the world.