ÐÇ¿ÕÓéÀÖ¹ÙÍø

MARY: (waking up, and looking at them with curiosity, blandly.) That’s fine things you have on you, Sarah Casey; and it’s a great stir you’re making this day, washing your face. I’m that used to the hammer, I wouldn’t hear it at all, but washing is a rare thing, and you’re after waking me up, and I having a great sleep in the sun.

[She looks around cautiously at the bundle in which she has hidden the bottles.]

SARAH: (coaxingly.) Let you stretch out again for a sleep, Mary Byrne, for it’ll be a middling time yet before we go to the fair.

MARY: (with suspicion.) That’s a sweet tongue you have, Sarah Casey; but if sleep’s a grand thing, it’s a grand thing to be waking up a day the like of this, when there’s a warm sun in it, and a kind air, and you’ll hear the cuckoos singing and crying out