This door is closed, and a
large key is in lock. Fireplace with a grating around it, left. Back,
right, is a window with little leaded panes_.
_It is noon on a May day, but the light inside the ward is feeble._
_Two paupers are seated at fire. One of them, Mickie Cripes, is a
man of fifty, stooped and hollow-chested, but with quick blue eyes.
The other man, Tom Shanley, is not old, but he looks broken and
listless. Myles Gorman, still in pauper dress, is standing before
window, an expectant look on his face_.
_Thomas Muskerry enters from corridor. He wears his own clothes,
but he has let them get into disorder. His hair and beard are
disordered, and he seems very much broken down. Nevertheless, he
looks as if his mind were composed_.
MUSKERRY
It's dark in here, Michael.
GRIPES
It is, sir.
MUSKERRY
I find it very spiritless after coming up from the chapel.
Don't pass your whole day here. Go down into the yard. _(He stands
before the window)_ This is the first fine day, and you ought to go
out along the country road. Ask the Master for leave. It's the month
of May, and you'll be glad of the sight of the grass and the smell
of the bushes. Now here's a remarkable thing. I venture to think
that the like of this has never happened before. Here are the bees
swarming at the window pane.
GORMAN
You'll hear my pipes on the road to-day.
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