MAURTEEN. Her parents are to blame.

FATHER HART. That is the image of the Son of God.

THE CHILD (caressing him) Hide it away, hide it away!

MAURTEEN. No, no.

FATHER HART. Because you are so young and like a bird,
That must take fright at every stir of the leaves,
I will go take it down.

THE CHILD. Hide it away!
And cover it out of sight and out of mind!

(FATHER HART takes crucifix from wall and carries it
towards inner room.)

FATHER HART. Since you have come into this barony,
I will instruct you in our blessed faith
And being so keen witted you'll soon learn.

(To the others.)

We must be tender to all budding things,
Our Maker let no thought of Calvary
Trouble the morning stars in their first song.

(Puts crucifix in inner room.)