Turning towards her.—You’re taking away the turf from the cake.

Crying out.—The Son of God forgive us, Nora, we’re after forgetting his bit of bread.

She comes over to the fire.

And it’s destroyed he’ll be going till dark night, and he after eating nothing since the sun went up.

Turning the cake out of the oven.—It’s destroyed he’ll be, surely. There’s no sense left on any person in a house where an old woman will be talking for ever.

Maurya sways herself on her stool.

Cutting off some of the bread and rolling it in a cloth; to Maurya.—Let you go down now to the spring well and give him this and he passing. You