Three Plays: The Fiddler's House, The Land, Thomas Muskerry. Padraic Colum

To be sure I will, Conn.

      Brian goes to the dresser, and puts money on a shelf.

      CONN (with dignity) Thank you, Brian. There's few I'd let put me under a compliment; but I take it from you. Maire, as I said, is a careful girl, but some of us must have our freedom. Besides, Brian, the bird that sings lone sings slow. The man of art must have his listeners. (Conn takes the money off dresser) Anne, daughter, what's keeping you there? Sure the spectacles were in my pocket the whole time, child. (Anne comes dawn) When I spoke against the people about here, I was leaving you out of it, Brian.

      BRIAN

       I'm fond of tune, though it wasn't here I got fond of it.

      Brian goes to the door.

      ANNE (going to Brian) You won't be rambling again, Brian?

      BRIAN

       I'm settled here, Anne; I made it up with my brothers.

      ANNE

       They used to say that a MacConnell quarrel was a lasting quarrel.

      BRIAN

       Maybe we're working the bad blood out of us.

      ANNE

       Don't be staying out long, Brian.

      BRIAN

       Till Maire gives me the call.

      Brian MacConnell goes out.

      ANNE We oughtn't to take another clay from Brian MacConnell. There's only the patch at the back to be mown, and you could do that yourself.

      CONN You can depend on me for the mowing. I'm going up now, to go over an oul' tune I have.

      ANNE

       James Moynihan would come over and stack for us.

      CONN

       James Moynihan is a decent boy, too.

      ANNE

       You won't be going out to-night, father?

      CONN

       Now, how's a man to know what he'll be doing?

      ANNE

       It leaves me very anxious.

      CONN I'll give you this advice, and it's proper advice to give to a girl thinking of marrying. Never ask of your menkind where they're going.

      ANNE

       The like of that brings bad luck on a house.

      CONN You have too much dead knowledge, and the shut fist never caught a bird.

      ANNE

       I only wish you were settled down.

      CONN

       Sure I am settled down.

      ANNE

       I can't speak to you, after all.

      CONN You're a good girl, Anne, and he'll be lucky that gets you. And don't be grieving that you're not bringing James Moynihan a fortune. You're bringing him the decency of birth and rearing. You're like the lone pigeon I often think—the pet that doesn't fly, and keeps near the house.

      ANNE

       That's the way you always treat me, and I never can talk to you.

      CONN (at window) Hush now, here's the other, your sister Maire. She's like the wild pigeon of the woods. (Maire Hourican comes in) We were discoursing on affairs, Maire. We won't be bringing Brian MacConnell here tomorrow; there's only the bit at the back to be mown, and I'll do that myself.

      Conn Hourican goes into the room right; soon after the fiddle is heard. Anne goes to the settle, and takes up her knitting. Maire takes her shawl off, and hangs it on the rack. Maire Hourican is over twenty. She is tall, and has easy, graceful movements; her features are fine and clear-cut; the nose is rather blunted, the mouth firm. Her gaze is direct and clear. She has heavy auburn hair, loose now, and falling. Maire comes down to the table, opens basket, and takes some flowers from top. She turns to dresser and arranges some of the flowers in a jar.

      MAIRE We'd have no right to take another day from Brian. And when there's no one here to-morrow, you and me could draw some of the turf.

      ANNE

       Your hair is loose, Maire.

      Maire goes to the mirror and fixes her hair.

      MAIRE The wind blew it about me, and then I let it down. I came home by the long way, just to feel young again with my hair about me.

      ANNE

       And did you meet any one?

      MAIRE

       Indeed I did. I met James Moynihan.

      ANNE

       James had to go early. They're building at his place.

      MAIRE

       Indeed they ought to let James build a house for himself. ANNE

       Some day they will, Maire.

      MAIRE But we must not let some day be a far day.

      ANNE (hesitatingly) I think I'll show you something.

      MAIRE What is it, daughter?

      Anne rises and goes to the dresser. She opens drawer. Maire watches her.

      MAIRE (waiting) I made a good girl out of you, anyway.

      ANNE

       You wouldn't let me use stroller words when we were on the road.

       Do you mind of that?

      MAIRE

       I kept you to the mannerly ways. I have that to my credit.

      ANNE (showing Maire the verses) Read that, Maire. It was James that made it.

      MAIRE

       It's a song, I declare.

      ANNE

       No, Maire, it's a poem.

      MAIRE

       A poem? O, that's grand!

      She begins to read it eagerly.

      ANNE

       And, Maire—

      MAIRE

       Well?

      ANNE

       James says it's about me.

      MAIRE

       About you? O, I wish some one would put me into a song, or into a poem;

       I suppose a poem would be best. You might ask James. No, I'll coax him

       myself. Ah, no I won't, Anne.

      ANNE

       You may keep it for a while, but don't let any one know.

      MAIRE

       He must be very fond of you, and I thinking him so quiet.

      ANNE (happy) He has grand thoughts about me.

      MAIRE

       Well, you'll be seeing him to-night.

      ANNE

       I don't know that I'll go out to-night.

      MAIRE

       Sure Grace Moynihan asked us to go over.

      ANNE

       I'm shy of going into James'.

      MAIRE Anne, you're the only one of us that has any manners. Maybe you're right not to go.

      ANNE

       I'll stay in to-night.

      MAIRE

       Then Brian and myself will go to Moynihan's.

      ANNE