[During this speech, which he gives with his back towards the
church, Mary Doul has come out with her sight cured, and come
down towards the right with a silly simpering smile, till she is
a little behind Martin Doul.]

MARY DOUL -- [when he pauses.] -- Which of you is Martin Doul?

MARTIN DOUL -- [wheeling round.] -- It's her voice surely. [They
stare at each other blankly.]

MOLLY BYRNE -- [to Martin Doul.] -- Go up now and take her under
the chin and be speaking the way you spoke to myself.

MARTIN DOUL -- [in a low voice, with intensity.] -- If I speak
now, I'll speak hard to the two of you.

MOLLY BYRNE -- [to Mary Doul.] -- You're not saying a word, Mary.
What is it you think of himself, with the fat legs on him, and
the little neck like a ram?

MARY DOUL. I'm thinking it's a poor thing when the Lord God
gives you sight and puts the like of that man in your way.

MARTIN DOUL. It's on your two knees you should be thanking the
Lord God you're not looking on yourself, for if it was yourself
you seen you'd be running round in a short while like the old
screeching mad-woman is running round in the glen.

MARY DOUL -- [beginning to realize herself.] -- If I'm not so
fine as some of them said, I have my hair, and big eyes, and my