ands up slowly, and takes them in her hands._
NORA _looks out._)

NORA. They're carrying a thing among them and there's water
dripping out of it and leaving a track by the big stones.

CATHLEEN (_in a whisper to the women who have come in_). Is it
Bartley it is?

ONE OF THE WOMEN. It is surely, God rest his soul.

(_Two younger women come in and pull out the table. Then men carry
in the body of_ BARTLEY, _laid on a plank, with a bit of a sail
over it, and lay it on the table._)

CATHLEEN (_to the women, as they are doing so_). What way was he
drowned?

ONE OF THE WOMEN. The gray pony knocked him into the sea, and he
was washed out where there is a great surf on the white rocks.

(MAURYA _has gone over and knelt down at the head of the table.
The women are keening softly and swaying themselves with a slow
movement._ CATHLEEN _and_ NORA _kneel at the other end of the table.
The men kneel near the door._)

MAURYA (_raising her head and speaking as if she did not see the
people around her_). They're all gone now, and there isn't
anything more the sea can do to me.... I'll have no call now to
be up crying and praying when the wind breaks from the south, and
you can hear the surf is in the east, and the surf is in the
west, making a great stir with the two noises, and they hitting
one on the other. I'll have no call now to be going down and
getting Holy Water in the dark nights after Samhain, and I won't
care what way the sea is when the other women will be keening.
(_To_ NORA) Give me the Holy Water, Nora; there's a small sup still
on the dresser.

(NORA _gives it to her._)

MAURYA (_drops_ MICHAEL'S _clothes across_ BARTLEY'S _feet, and
sprinkles the Holy Water over him_). It isn't that I haven't
prayed for you, BARTLEY, to the Almighty God. It isn't that I
haven't said prayers in the dark night till you wouldn't know
what I'd be saying; but it's a great rest I'll have now, and it's
time surely. It's a great rest I'll have now, and great sleeping
in the long nights after Samhain, if it's only a bit of wet flour
we do have to eat, and maybe a fish that would be stinking.

(_She kneels down again, crossing herself, and saying prayers
under her breath._)

CATHLEEN (_to an old man_). Maybe yourself and Eamon would make a
coffin when the sun rises. We have fine white boards herself
bought, God help her, thinking Michael would be found, and I have
a new cake you can eat while you'll be working.

THE OLD MAN (_