they'll be picking it out with the spying eyes they have, and
saying it's rich we are, and not sparing us a thing at all.

[They bundle away the rushes. Timmy the smith comes in on left.]

MARTIN DOUL -- [with a begging voice.] -- Leave a bit of silver
for blind Martin, your honour. Leave a bit of silver, or a penny
copper itself, and we'll be praying the Lord to bless you and you
going the way.

TIMMY -- [stopping before them.] -- And you letting on a while
back you knew my step! [He sits down.]

MARTIN -- [with his natural voice.] -- I know it when Molly
Byrne's walking in front, or when she's two perches, maybe,
lagging behind; but it's few times I've heard you walking up the
like of that, as if you'd met a thing wasn't right and you coming
on the road.

TIMMY -- [hot and breathless, wiping his face.] -- You've good
ears, God bless you, if you're a liar itself; for I'm after
walking up in great haste from hearing wonders in the fair.

MARTIN DOUL -- [rather contemptuously.] -- You're always hearing
queer wonderful things, and the lot of them nothing at all; but
I'm thinking, this time, it's a strange thing surely you'd be
walking up before the turn of day, and not waiting below to look
on them lepping, or dancing, or playing shows on the green of
Clash.