bed. Which would you say this counthry was: hell or purgatory?

THE GRASSHOPPER. X.

THE MAN. Hell! Faith I'm afraid you're right. I wondher what you
and me did when we were alive to get sent here.

THE GRASSHOPPER [shrilly]. X.X.

THE MAN [nodding]. Well, as you say, it's a delicate subject; and
I won't press it on you. Now off widja.

THE GRASSHOPPER. X.X. [It springs away].

THE MAN [waving his stick] God speed you! [He walks away past the
stone towards the brow of the hill. Immediately a young laborer,
his face distorted with terror, slips round from behind the
stone.

THE LABORER [crossing himself repeatedly]. Oh glory be to God!
glory be to God! Oh Holy Mother an all the saints! Oh murdher!
murdher! [Beside himself, calling Fadher Keegan! Fadher Keegan]!

THE MAN [turning]. Who's there? What's that? [He comes back and
finds the laborer, who clasps his knees] Patsy Farrell! What are
you doing here?

PATSY. O for the love o God don't lave me here wi dhe
grasshopper. I hard it spakin to you. Don't let it do me any
harm, Father darlint.