WIDOW QUIN. Aye. Would you give me the red cow you have and the mountainy
ram, and the right of way across your rye path, and a load of dung at
Michaelmas, and turbary upon the western hill?

SHAWN -- [radiant with hope.] -- I would surely, and I'd give you the
wedding-ring I have, and the loan of a new suit, the way you'd have him decent
on the wedding-day. I'd give you two kids for your dinner, and a gallon of
poteen, and I'd call the piper on the long car to your wedding from
Crossmolina or from Ballina. I'd give you . . .

WIDOW QUIN. That'll do so, and let you whisht, for he's coming now again.
[Christy comes in very natty in the new clothes. Widow Quin goes to him ad
miringly.]

WIDOW QUIN. If you seen yourself now, I'm thinking you'd be too proud to
speak to us at all, and it'd be a pity surely to have your like sailing from
Mayo to the Western World.

CHRISTY -- [as proud as a peacock.] -- I'm not going. If this is a poor place
itself, I'll make myself contented to be lodging here. [Widow Quin makes a
sign to Shawn to leave them.]

SHAWN. Well, I'm going measuring the race-course while the tide is low, so
I'll leave you the garments and my blessing for the sports to-day. God bless
you! [He wriggles out.]

WIDOW QUIN -- [admiring Christy.] -- Well, you're mighty spruce, young fellow.
Sit down now while you're quiet till you talk with me.