TIMMY. If she is itself let you not be idling this day, or
minding her at all, and let you hurry with them sticks, for I'll
want you in a short while to be blowing in the forge. [He throws
down pot-hooks.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [crying out.] -- Is it roasting me now you'd be?
(Turns back and sees pot-hooks; he takes them up.) Pot-hooks?
Is it over them you've been inside sneezing and sweating since
the dawn of day?
TIMMY -- [resting himself on anvil, with satisfaction.] -- I'm
making a power of things you do have when you're settling with a
wife, Martin Doul; for I heard tell last night the Saint'll be
passing again in a short while, and I'd have him wed Molly with
myself. . . . He'd do it, I've heard them say, for not a penny at
all.
MARTIN DOUL -- [lays down hooks and looks at him steadily.] --
Molly'll be saying great praises now to the Almighty God and He
giving her a fine, stout, hardy man the like of you.
TIMMY -- [uneasily.] -- And why wouldn't she, if she's a fine
woman itself?
MARTIN DOUL -- [looking up right.] -- Why wouldn't she, indeed,
Timmy? . . . . The Almighty God's made a fine match in the two of
you, for if you went marrying a woman was the like of yourself
you'd be having the fearfullest little children, I'm thinking,
was ever seen in the world.
Pages:
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54