at are foolishness! There is no one at all can put away from his
road the bones and the thinness of death.

_McDonough:_ I to have been in it he would not have come under the
lintel! Ugly as he is and strong, I would be able for him and would
wrestle with him and drag him asunder and put him down! Before I
would let him lay his sharp touch on her I would break and would
crush his naked ribs, and would burn them to lime and scatter them!

_First Hag:_ Where is the use raving? It is best for you to turn
your hand to the thing has to be done.

_McDonough:_ You to have stood in his path he might have brought
you away in her place! That much would be no great thing to ask, and
your life being dead and in ashes.

_First Hag:_ Quieten yourself now where it was the will of God.
She herself made no outcry and no ravings. I did my best for her,
laying her out and putting a middling white sheet around her. I went
so far as to smoothen her hair on the two sides of her face.

_McDonough: (Turning to inner door.)_ Is it that you are gone from
me, Catherine, you that were the blossom of the branch!

_(Old woman moans.)_

It is a bad case you to have gone and to have left me as lonesome
after you as that no one ever saw the like!

_(The old woman moans after each sentence.)_

I to bring you travelling you were the best traveller, and the best
stepper, and the best that ever faced the western blast, and the
waves of it blowing from you the shawl! I to be sore in the heart
with walking you would make a smile of a laugh. I would not feel the
road having your company; I would walk every whole step of Ireland.

I to bring you to the dance-house you would dance till you had them
all tired, the same in the late of the day as in the commencement!
Your steps following quick on one another the same as hard rain on a
flagstone! They could not find your equal in all Ireland or in the
whole ring of Connemara!

What way did it fail me to see the withering of the branches on
every bush, as it is certain they withered the time laughter died
with your laugh? The cold of winter has settled on the hearth. My
heart is closed up with trouble!

_First Hag:_ It is best for us shut the door and to keep out the
noises of the fair.

_McDonough:_ Ah, what sort at all are the people of the fair, to
be doing their bargaining and clutching after their luckpenny, and
she being stark and quiet!

_First Hag:_ She has to be buried ere evening. T