[Village roadside, on left the door of a forge, with broken
wheels, etc., lying about. A well near centre, with board above
it, and room to pass behind it. Martin Doul is sitting near
forge, cutting sticks.]

TIMMY -- [heard hammering inside forge, then calls.] -- Let you
make haste out there. . . . I'll be putting up new fires at the
turn of day, and you haven't the half of them cut yet.

MARTIN DOUL -- [gloomily.] -- It's destroyed I'll be whacking
your old thorns till the turn of day, and I with no food in my
stomach would keep the life in a pig. (He turns towards the
door.) Let you come out here and cut them yourself if you want
them cut, for there's an hour every day when a man has a right to
his rest.

TIMMY -- [coming out, with a hammer, impatiently.] -- Do you want
me to be driving you off again to be walking the roads? There
you are now, and I giving you your food, and a corner to sleep,
and money with it; and, to hear the talk of you, you'd think I
was after beating you, or stealing your gold.

MARTIN DOUL. You'd do it handy, maybe, if I'd gold to steal.

TIMMY -- [throws down hammer; picks up some of the sticks already
cut, and throws them into door.) There's no fear of your having
gold -- a lazy, basking fool the like of you.

MARTIN DOUL. No fear, maybe, and I here with yourself, for it's
more I got a while since and I sitting blinded in Grianan, than I