Mary (looking at the bundle with surprise and dread). The bit of gold and the tin can, is it?

Michael. The half a sovereign and the gallon can.

Mary (scrambling to her feet quickly). Well, I think I’ll be walking off the road to the fair the way you won’t be destroying me going too fast on the hills. (She goes a few steps towards the left, then turns and speaks to Sarah very persuasively.) Let you not take the can from the sack, Sarah Casey; for the people is coming above would be making game of you, and pointing their fingers if they seen you do the like of that. Let you leave it safe in the bag, I’m saying, Sarah darling. It’s that way will be best.

She goes towards left, and pauses for a moment, looking about her with embarrassment.

Michael (in a low voice). What ails her at all?

Sarah (anxiously). It’s real wicked she does be when you hear her speaking as easy as that.

Mary (to herself). I’d be safer in the chapel, I’m thinking; for if she caught me after on the road, maybe she would kill me then.

She comes hobbling back towards the right.

Sarah. Where is it you’re going? It isn’t that way we’ll be walking to the fair.

Mary. I’m going up into the chapel to give you my blessing and hear the priest saying his prayers. It’s a lonesome road is running below to Grianan, and a woman would never know the things might happen her and she walking single in a lonesome place.

As she reaches the chapel-gate, the priest comes to it in his surplice.

Priest (crying out). Come along now. Is it the whole day you’d keep me here saying my prayers, and I getting my death with not a bit in my stomach, and my breakfast in ruins, and the Lord Bishop maybe driving on the road to-day?

Sarah. We’re coming now, holy father.

Priest. Give me the bit of gold into my hand.

Sarah. It’s here, holy father.

She gives it to him. Michael takes the bundle from the ditch and brings it over, standing a little behind Sarah. He feels the bundle and looks at Mary with a meaning look.

Priest (looking at the gold). It’s a good one, I’m thinking, wherever you got it. And where is the can?

Sarah (taking the bundle). We have it here in a bit of clean sack, your reverence. We tied it up in the inside of that to keep it from rusting in the dews of night, and let you not open it now or you’ll have the people making game of us and telling the story on us, east and west to the butt of the hills.

Priest (taking the bundle). Give it here into my hand, Sarah Casey. What is it any person would think of a tinker making a can?

He begins opening the bundle.

Sarah. It’s a fine can, your reverence; for if it’s poor, simple people we are, it’s fine cans we can make, and himself, God help him, is a great man surely at the trade.

Priest opens the bundle; the three empty bottles fall out.