have lying round on the stones. It's not far off they'll be,
surely.

MOLLY BYRNE -- [pointing with astonishment.] -- Look beyond,
Timmy. [They all look over and see Martin Doul.]

TIMMY. Well, Martin's a lazy fellow to be lying in there at the
height of the day. (He goes over shouting.) Let you get up out
of that. You were near losing a great chance by your sleepiness
this day, Martin Doul. . . . The two of them's in it, God help us
all!

MARTIN DOUL -- [scrambling up with Mary Doul.] -- What is it you
want, Timmy, that you can't leave us in peace?

TIMMY. The Saint's come to marry the two of us, and I'm after
speaking a word for yourselves, the way he'll be curing you now;
for if you're a foolish man itself, I do be pitying you, for I've
a kind heart, when I think of you sitting dark again, and you
after seeing a while and working for your bread. [Martin Doul
takes Mary Doul's hand and tries to grope his way off right; he
has lost his hat, and they are both covered with dust and grass
seeds.]

PEOPLE. You're going wrong. It's this way, Martin Doul.

[They push him over in front of the Saint, near centre. Martin
Doul and Mary Doul stand with piteous hang-dog dejection.]

SAINT. Let you not be afeard, for there's great pity with the