BAHTLEY.  O Mary, there has a great misfortune come upon me!  It is what I always said, that if there is ever any misfortune—­

MRS. FALLON.  What did he do at all, or is it bewitched I am?

MAGISTRATE.  This man has been arrested on a charge of murder.

MRS. FALLON.  Whose charge is that?  Don’t believe them!  They are all liars in this place!  Give me back my man!

MAGISTRATE.  It is natural you should take his part, but you have no cause of complaint against your neighbors.  He has been arrested for the murder of John Smith, on his own confession.

MRS. FALLON.  The saints of heaven protect us!  And what did he want killing Jack Smith?

MAGISTRATE.  It is best you should know all.  He did it on account of a love-affair with the murdered man’s wife.

MRS. FALLON (sitting down).  With Jack Smith’s wife!  With Kitty Keary!—­Ochone, the traitor!

THE CROWD.  A great shame, indeed.  He is a traitor, indeed.

MRS. TULLY.  To America he was bringing her, Mrs. Fallon.

BAETLEY.  What are you saying, Mary?  I tell you—­

MRS. FALLON.  Don’t say a word!  I won’t listen to any word you’ll say! (Stops her ears.) Oh, isn’t he the treacherous villain?  Ohone go deo!

BARTLEY.  Be quiet till I speak!  Listen to what I say!

MRS. FALLON.  Sitting beside me on the ass car coming to the town, so quiet and so respectable, and treachery like that in his heart!

BARTLEY.  Is it your wits you have lost, or is it I myself that have lost my wits?

MRS. FALLON.  And it’s hard I earned you, slaving, slaving—­and you grumbling, and sighing, and coughing, and discontented, and the priest wore out anointing you, with all the times you threatened to die!

BARTLEY.  Let you be quiet till I tell you!

MRS. FALLON.  You to bring such a disgrace into the parish.  A thing that was never heard of before!

BARTLEY.  Will you shut your mouth and hear me speaking?

MRS. FALLON.  And if it was for any sort of a fine handsome woman, but for a little fistful of a woman like Kitty Keary, that’s not four feet high hardly, and not three teeth in her head unless she got new ones!  May God reward you, Bartley Fallon, for the black treachery in your heart and the wickedness in your mind, and the red blood of poor Jack Smith that is wet upon your hand!

(Voice of JACK SMITH heard singing)

  The sea shall be dry,
    The earth under mourning and ban! 
  Then loud shall he cry
    For the wife of the red-haired man!

BARTLEY.  It’s Jack Smith’s voice—­I never knew a ghost to sing before.  It is after myself and the fork he is coming! (Goes back.  Enter JACK SMITH.) Let one of you give him the fork and I will be clear of him now and for eternity!

MRS. TARPEY.  The Lord have mercy on us!  Red Jack Smith!  The man that was going to be waked!