PEGEEN -- [turning round astonished.] -- Four miles.

CHRISTY -- [apologetically.] Didn't himself say there were only four bona
fides living in the place?

PEGEEN. It's bona fides by the road they are, but that lot came over the
river lepping the stones. It's not three perches when you go like that, and I
was down this morning looking on the papers the post-boy does have in his bag.
(With meaning and emphasis.) For there was great news this day, Christopher
Mahon. [She goes into room left.]

CHRISTY -- [suspiciously.] Is it news of my murder?

PEGEEN -- [inside.] Murder, indeed.

CHRISTY -- [loudly.] A murdered da?

PEGEEN [coming in again and crossing right.] -- There was not, but a story
filled half a page of the hanging of a man. Ah, that should be a fearful end,
young fellow, and it worst of all for a man who destroyed his da, for the like
of him would get small mercies, and when it's dead he is, they'd put him in a
narrow grave, with cheap sacking wrapping him round, and pour down quicklime
on his head, the way you'd see a woman pouring any frish-frash from a cup.

CHRISTY -- [very miserably.] -- Oh, God help me. Are you thinking I'm safe?
You were saying at the fall of night, I was shut of jeopardy and I here with
yourselves.

PEGEEN -- [severely.] You'll be shut of jeopardy no place if you go talking