Mary (looking at the paper) On a little bye-road, out beyant Finglas, he was found.

Mrs Boyle enters by door on right; she has been shopping and carries a small parcel in her hand. She is forty-five years of age, and twenty years ago she must have been a pretty woman; but her face has now assumed that look which ultimately settles down upon the faces of the women of the working-class; a look of listless monotony and harassed anxiety, blending with an expression of mechanical resistance. Were circumstances favourable, she would probably be a handsome, active and clever woman.

Mrs Boyle Isn’t he come in yet?

Mary No, mother.

Mrs Boyle Oh, he’ll come in when he likes; struttin’ about the town like a paycock with Joxer, I suppose. I hear all about Mrs Tancred’s son is in this mornin’s paper.

Mary The full details are in it this mornin’; seven wounds he had – one entherin’ the neck, with an exit wound beneath the left shoulder-blade; another in the left breast penethratin’ the heart, an’ …

Johnny (springing up from the fire) Oh, quit that readin’, for God’s sake! Are yous losin’ all your feelin’s? It’ll soon be that none of you’ll read anythin’ that’s not about butcherin’! (He goes quickly into the room on left.)

Mary He’s gettin’ very sensitive, all of a sudden!

Mrs Boyle I’ll read it myself, Mary, by an’ by, when I come home. Everybody’s sayin’ that he was a Die-hard – thanks be to God that Johnny had nothin’ to do with him this long time … (Opening the parcel and taking out some sausages, which she places on a plate.) Ah, then, if that father o’ yours doesn’t come in soon for his breakfast, he may go without any; I’ll not wait much longer for him.

Mary Can’t you let him get it himself when he comes in?

Mrs Boyle Yes, an’ let him bring in Joxer Daly along with him? Ay, that’s what he’d like, an’ that’s what he’s waitin’ for – till he thinks I’m gone to work, an’ then sail in with the boul’ Joxer, to burn all the coal an’ dhrink all the tea in the place, to show them what a good Samaritan he is! But I’ll stop here till he comes in, if I have to wait till tomorrow mornin’.

Voice of Johnny (inside) Mother!

Mrs Boyle Yis?

Voice of Johnny Bring us in a dhrink o’ wather.

Mrs Boyle Bring in that fella a dhrink o’ wather, for God’s sake, Mary.

Mary Isn’t he big an’ able enough to come out an’ get it himself?

Mrs Boyle If you weren’t well yourself you’d like somebody to bring you in a dhrink o’ wather. (She brings in drink and returns.) Isn’t it terrible to have to be waitin’ this way! You’d think he was bringin’ twenty poun’s a week into the house the way he’s going on. He wore out the Health Insurance long ago, he’s afther wearin’ out the unemployment dole, an’, now, he’s thryin’ to wear out me! An’ constantly singin’, no less, when he ought always to be on his knees offerin’ up a Novena for a job!

Mary (tying a ribbon fillet-wise around her head) I don’t like this ribbon, ma; I think I’ll wear the green – it looks betther than the blue.

Mrs Boyle Ah, wear whatever ribbon you like, girl, only don’t be botherin’ me. I don’t know what a girl on strike wants to be wearin’ a ribbon round her head for, or silk stockins on her legs either; it’s wearin’ them things that make the employers think they’re givin’ yous too much money.

Mary The hour is past now when we’ll ask the employers’ permission to wear what we like.

Mrs Boyle I don’t know why you wanted to walk out for Jennie Claffey; up to this you never had a good word for her.

Mary What’s the use of belongin’ to a Trades Union if you won’t stand up for your principles? Why did they sack her? It was a clear case of victimisation. We couldn’t let her walk the streets, could we?

Mrs Boyle No, of course yous couldn’t – yous wanted to keep her company. Wan victim wasn’t enough. When the employers sacrifice wan victim, the Trades Unions go wan betther be sacrificin’ a hundred.

Mary It doesn’t matther what you say, ma – a principle’s a principle.

Mrs Boyle Yis; an’ when I go into oul’ Murphy’s tomorrow, an’ he gets to know that, instead o’ payin’ all, I’m goin’ to borry more, what’ll he say when I tell him a principle’s a principle? What’ll we do if he refuses to give us any more on tick?

Mary He daren’t refuse – if he does, can’t you tell him he’s paid?

Mrs Boyle It’s lookin’ as if he was paid, whether he refuses or no.

Johnny appears at the door on left. He can be plainly seen now; he is a thin, delicate fellow, something younger than Mary. He has evidently gone through a rough time. His face is pale and drawn; there is a tremulous look of indefinite fear in his eyes. The left sleeve of his coat is empty, and he walks with a slight halt.

Johnny I was lyin’ down; I thought yous were gone. Oul’ Simon Mackay is thrampin’ about like a horse over me head, an’ I can’t sleep with him – they’re like thunder-claps in me brain! The curse o’ – God forgive me for goin’ to curse!

Mrs Boyle There, now; go back an’ lie down again, an’ I’ll bring you in a nice cup o’ tay.

Johnny Tay, tay, tay! You’re always thinkin’ o’ tay. If a man was dyin’, you’d thry to make him swally a cup o’ tay! (He goes back.)

Mrs Boyle I don’t know what’s goin’ to be done with him. The bullet he got in the hip in Easter Week was bad enough, but the bomb that shatthered his arm in the fight in O’Connell Street put the finishin’ touch on him. I knew he was makin’ a fool of himself. God knows I went down on me bended knees to him not to go agen the Free State.

Mary He stuck to his principles, an’, no matther how you may argue, ma, a principle’s a principle.

Voice of Johnny Is Mary goin’ to stay here?

Mary No, I’m not goin’ to stay here; you can’t expect me to be always at your beck an’ call, can you?

Voice of Johnny I won’t stop here be meself!

Mrs Boyle...