_O’CAHAN’S dining-room. Windows look out on lawn. Door from the hall._
_The room has a general tumble-down appearance. There are pictures of
race-horses, jockeys, and a large portrait of O’CAHAN’S deceased uncle
on the walls. A few silver cups and other trophies are piled on the
sideboard._
_MOLL FLANAGAN, a squat, middle-aged maid, is trying to hang a clean
curtain. The sun has darkened, and the bluish light suggests rain._
MOLL. Och, hum, anee oh! May the curse of Cain fall on anyone who
comes to the auction, and may they roast forever in eternal torments
that buy it over his unfortunate head! [_Fights with curtain_] Blast
you, stay up!
_O’C. comes in and looks around for a book._
O’C. Well, Moll, are you spring cleaning?
MOLL. I’m trying to make it a wee bit dacent-looking, dear.
O’C. I think the shutters would be more suitable.
MOLL. We’ll keep a bold front as long as we can.
O’C. But aren’t you a little foolish to hang clean curtains for
somebody else?
MOLL. God look down to your wit if you think I’m hanging them for
somebody else! It’s for our own bit of respect and dacency. And God look
down to your wit if you think Moll Flanagan won’t tear them down after
the auction.
O’C. [_going to bookcase_]. Suit yourself, Moll. You’re the
housekeeper.
MOLL. And I’ll tear down more than the curtains. I’ll not leave a
whole pane of glass in the house, nor a square inch of plaster on the
walls or ceilings that I won’t smash off with the hatchet. And they’ll
be lucky if I don’t burn it to the ground.
O’C. You mustn’t do anything of the kind, Moll. I draw the line at
vandalism. Don’t you see him watching you?
MOLL. Who’s watching me?
O’C. [_pointing to portrait_]. Uncle Hugh. If you start smashing
anything he’ll come out of his frame and speak to you.
MOLL. God knows, he’s speaking to me all the time, and his eyes
following me everywhere.... Hide the hatchet then, so I won’t be
tempted.
O’C. You didn’t happen to see a small book with a greenish cover
lying around here? Lindsay Gordon’s poems?
MOLL. I’m sure it’s burnt. I’ve been lighting the fire with books
this three days.
O’C. If I saw you lighting the fire with a book, Moll, I’d put you in
the oven. [_Finds the book_] Here it is. It has escaped you. [_Opens the
book at random and reads._]
“Life is mostly froth and bubble.
Two things stand like stone:
Kindness in another’s trouble,
Courage in your own.”
That bucks a fellow up, Moll.
MOLL. The uncle--God be gracious to him--was dying about that wee
book.
O’C. [_turning the leaves_]. I’m looking for something to make my
blood start circulating. Listen to this, Moll. [_He rattles off._]
“She passed like an arrow Kildare and Cock Sparrow,
And Mantrap and Mermaid refused the stone wall;
And Giles on the Grayling came down at the paling
And I was left sailing in front of them all.”
MOLL. Many a time I heard the uncle at that. But this was his
favourite bit, and he’d rhyme it over fifty times a day. [_She half
sings it._]
“She rose when I hit her, I saw the stream glitter,
A wide scarlet nostril flashed close to my knee;
Between sky and water the Clown came and caught her,
The space that he cleared was a caution to see.”
Fancy that now. Passing him in mid-air going over the water-lep.
O’C. [_laughing_]. Good man, Moll! One other spasm. Please. It does
me good to hear you.
MOLL. Let me see then. God knows I’d make a fool of myself to hear
your laugh. [_She recites._]
“She raced at the rasper, I felt my knees grasp her,
I found my hands give to her strain on the bit;
She rose when the Clown did--our silks as we bounded,
Brushed lightly, our stirrups clashed loud as we hit.”
O’C. Magnificent, Moll! Splendid! [_Drying his eyes_] That’s the best
thing I’ve heard for a long time, Moll. If I find myself at Lindsay
Gordon’s grave I’ll put an extra flower on it for Moll Flanagan.
MOLL. Where is he buried? In Dublin, is it?
O’C. Certainly. In Glasnevin.
MOLL. He hadn’t an Irish name, but he was a great poet-maker anyway.
O’C. Is Paddy Kinney never back from town?
MOLL [_looking out of window_]. He’s coming up the avenue at this
precise minute.
O’C. Well, if you want me I’ll be in the kitchen, reading bits of
Gordon to the Professor.
MOLL. All I can say is--you’re very idly employed. For I never seen a
monument of desolation like that man walking the world. What’s he a
professor av? What’s he profess to be?
O’C. Theology.
MOLL. Theology! And do they give him nothing to live upon? Lord help
us, he’s in ruins. He’s like a rat-catcher.
_PADDY KINNEY, an oldish groom, comes in. He has various
parcels, including a paper bag with a lady’s hat._
O’C. Well, Paddy, you seem to’ve raised the wind again. You’re laden
like a bee in June.
PADDY. Raised the wind, is it! My sowl, your credit’s as good as the
Bank of Ireland. I could finance a new railway by naming your name.
O’C. It would be a short railway, Paddy, and a very narrow gauge. But
never mind. What have you with you? I didn’t tell you to bring anything.
PADDY. I’ve home money and value. I tell you I was actually refusing
obligements at the heels of the hunt. Wait till you see that basket of
stuff in the hall. Corn-beef, cakes, and porter galore.
O’C. [_shrugs_]. Many people gathering down at the road?
PADDY. I see nobody but big, blustering Kilroy, and the son at his
fut--like a spent foal--and John Scally. I suppose the wife made John
toe the line....
O’C. Call me when the auctioneer comes. I’m in the kitchen. [_Goes
out._]
PADDY [_bitterly_]. Scoff and roast the town of Ballykennedy! That I
may live to see nettles fourteen feet high growing on its main street.
The people he spent hundreds of pounds with wouldn’t gimme a pot of jam
without the money.
MOLL. How then did you get all the provisions you’ve home with you?
PADDY. I paid for them out of my own bit of savings. Ten pounds I’d
past me for a rainy day. Twenty years’ gathering.
MOLL [_comes from window_]. Did you get me anything for my head?
PADDY. I got you a hat. And a dress. That’s what kept so
long--choosing them. I’ll never undertake a work of the kind again if I
live forever.
MOLL [_excited_]. Show me the hat, Paddy. Quick. Quick.
PADDY. You’ll put the dress on first. You wouldn’t want to put the
dress on over the hat, would you? You always put the saddle on a horse
before the bridle.
_He opens a parcel and takes out a red dress with black spots._
MOLL. I don’t like it!
PADDY. Well, blessid and holy Moses, such cheek! You don’t like it?
MOLL. I never liked red.
PADDY. Because you never had any taste! Weren’t you and your clothes
always a born fright! Here, on with it now.
MOLL [_takes dress_]. Go you out of the room before I on with it.
PADDY. Gwon, get into it! I’m not looking at you at all. I’ve
something else in my mind this minute than your figure.
MOLL. Well, turn your back, Paddy, like a decent man.
PADDY [_going to window_]. Blast you and your modesty! You’d think
you were sixteen. Hurry up now, or I’ll wheel on you.
_MOLL puts dress on._
MOLL. All right, Paddy. You can turn now.
PADDY [_turning_]. It’s a pome. You’re like the pillar of fire that
walked before Moses.
MOLL [_twisting_]. How does it look at the back?
PADDY. Could you not tighten the girths a little?
MOLL [_tightening it_]. It should have a belt.... Is that better?
PADDY. I asked the shopkeeper if there wasn’t a surcingle, and he
said surcingles are out of fashion.
MOLL [_trying to look at her heels_]. How does it look round at the
back, Paddy?
PADDY. Jog across there a few paces.
MOLL. Lord, it’s not a horse you’re vittin.
PADDY. How then can I see your back if you don’t give me a show? Jog
on. [_MOLL obeys._] Woah! Stand up straight.... Draw yourself together
now and come on with the head well up, and shorten your stride a little.
[_MOLL obeys._] Woah. It has just one fault. It’s far too stylish for
the like of you.
MOLL [_pleased_]. Oh, that’s a good fault. I’ll keep it. Let me see
the hat now.
_He takes out a bilious-looking hat entwined with varnished
cherries._
PADDY. Put that on your head now. And then look in the glass.
MOLL. Oh, it’s a beauty! Oh, I like the hat, Paddy. But I haven’t a
hat-pin....
PADDY. There you are. Two of them. [_Hands her two pins._]
MOLL [_putting hat on_]. God knows, Paddy Kinney, you’re a marvel.
You forget nothing.
PADDY. A man that’s looked after leppin’ horses for twenty years
doesn’t forget much.
MOLL. And to be a man you’re tasty.
PADDY. A man that’s attended Dublin Horse Show for twenty years
should know when a woman’s dressed.
MOLL. Wait till I see how it looks. [_Goes to a mirror and stands
twisting her neck._]
PADDY. Take care you don’t twist your neck out of joint.... My God,
the vanity of wimin!
MOLL [_turning_]. Isn’t it simply gorgeous, Paddy?
PADDY. You’ve left me without a word to say. It’s a pome.
MOLL. I’m well pleased with everything, Paddy. What did they cost?
PADDY. They cost you nothing at all. They’re an acknowledgment for
all the imperence and washing and patching you’ve done for me.... Your
health to wear them.
MOLL. Ah, Paddy, Paddy....
PADDY. Not another word now or I’ll rise and lep through my weskit.
MOLL. But ’twas too much, Paddy....
PADDY. No more, I say. It’s our last day under this roof, and you can
face the world now well dressed and respectable. With that rig you’ll
have no trouble getting new service....
MOLL. Whisht ... whisht!
_O’C. and PROF. come in._
O’C. The Professor wants to speak to you, Paddy.
PROF. Hallo, Paddy Kinney. Gun, I’d know your old phizog in a Sahara
sandstorm.
PADDY. Well, in sowl, you’ve the advantage of me ... for asleep or
awake I’ve never seen you before.
O’C. Nonsense, Paddy. You know him all right. Mrs. Scally’s
brother--Professor Tim.
PADDY. Ah, surely to God! It’s Tim of the hazel rod [_shaking
hands_]. And how’s every inch of you, Professor?
PROF. Gum, Paddy, I’m not as robust as I was. But I’m not getting any
younger. And I’ve been travelling a deal lately. I’m tired.
PADDY. You want a month on the grass with the shoes off.
PROF. Exactly, Paddy. Complete rest.
PADDY. Well, I’m glad to see you, Professor. Keep a good spirit.
Plenty of good mate and drink and the pure air ’ill soon bring you into
condition.
PROF. But where am I going to get all that, Paddy? The Scallys don’t
want me. My own sister pushed me out of doors.
PADDY. And for a man that has travelled the world--what did you
expect?
PROF. I didn’t expect much, Paddy. That’s true. But I didn’t reckon
on being pushed out of doors.
PADDY. Well, that’s where you made a mistake, Professor. For when a
man comes down in the world as far as he can get, his own relations give
him the last kick.... There’s a couple of bob, Tim. I wish it was more.
But there’s a basket of corn-beef, cakes, and porter in the hall. You
can help yourself.
PROF. [_taking money_]. Thanks, Paddy. Gum, you’re a good Irishman.
PADDY. Yerra, nonsense! Sure an ould timer’s an ould timer whether
he’s down or up.
O’C. The Professor wants you to see about a valise, Paddy.
PADDY. With all my heart.
PROF. I’ve dropped it somewhere, Paddy. It’s either at Ballykennedy
station or London.
PADDY. I’ll try Ballykennedy station first, I think.
PROF. Gum, yes. You’d get lost in London.
O’C. You can go in after a bit, Paddy.... Come on, Professor....
MOLL. Are you not looking at my new dress, master?
O’C. I’ve been looking at nothing else, Moll. You’re a picture. [_To
PADDY_] There’s a French milliner lost in you, Paddy.
PROF. Gum, Moll, I’ve travelled seven times round the world and never
seen a more devastating colour scheme. You’re like a bird of paradise.
MOLL. I wouldn’t like to be too peacockish.
PROF. You’re not a bit too peacockish. You’re more of a macaw.
_PROF. and O’C. go out._
PADDY. So that’s the end of Professor Tim! That man’s as far down as
he can get. And I mind him a nice young fellow, and a devil for fun.
He’d put a white sheet on himself and sit for a whole night moaning on
the graveside wall.... Poor Tim.
MOLL. He’s an eye for a well-dressed woman anyway. Seven times round
the world and never seen the beat of it.
PADDY. He’ll go round it seven times more before he sees the like of
it.
MOLL. I must take great care of it, Paddy. [_Takes hat off._] I’ll
keep the dress on till after the auction.
PADDY [_takes out a new trotting collar and tie_]. This is for
myself. And listen to me, Moll Flanagan, and don’t breathe a word of
this till the master....
MOLL. Lord save us, Paddy, but you can look la-mentable serious.
You’re not going to mention marriage....
PADDY. I haven’t the least notion of marriage. I’ve trouble enough
without marrying more.
MOLL. That’s pure imperence.
PADDY. Listen you to what I’m saying. Isn’t there a black coat and
hat of the ould master’s upstairs?
MOLL. There’s a full black suit, not a pin the worse. And a beautiful
hat.
PADDY. Well, take and brush them well and slip them round to the
stable. And don’t let a living sowl see you. I’m going to dress up like
a country squire and make the Kilroys pay for Rush Hill.
MOLL. My darlin’ Paddy! Lord, but that’s a noble trick.... I’ll brush
them like a new pin and take them round under my apron.
PADDY. By my sowl, if we have to get out cheap, the Kilroys ’ill have
to come in dear. I’ll salt it to the very bone.
MOLL. Hide the collar and tie.... I hear someone coming in....
_PEGGY comes in._
PEGGY. Where is Mr. O’Cahan?
MOLL. In the kitchen, honey.
PEGGY. Anyone with him?
MOLL. A Professor of Theeology.
PADDY. Mind your tongue now, Moll.
PEGGY. It’s all right, Paddy. Moll wouldn’t sting me.
MOLL. God knows I wouldn’t. I love the ground you walk on.
PEGGY. Tell Mr. O’Cahan to come here, Moll. You needn’t say who wants
him.
MOLL. Not a word, dear. [_Going, but turns back_] Do you like my new
dress, Miss Peggy?
PEGGY. Very much indeed, Moll. It’s quite smart.
MOLL. It’s a thought too stylish for the likes of me, but it’s a good
fault. The hat to match it is in the bag. Show it to her, Paddy. [_Goes
out._]
PADDY [_very serious_]. Are you going to marry him, Peggy?
PEGGY. I’m afraid not, Paddy. Things have gone against us.
PADDY. That’s the very time to lay your cheek to the mane and ride
for your life ... when the race is all but lost.
PEGGY. It’s not so easy, Paddy.
PADDY. O’Cahan always rides hardest in the rocky field.... You’ll
never find a mate like Hugh O’Cahan.
PEGGY. I know it.
PADDY. And such an archangel on a horse! Lord, ’twas a pome to watch
him taking the stone wall. And the double-bank, he’d touch it as light
and airy as a thistledown....
PEGGY. I know, Paddy. I know.
PADDY. Says the white-haired Judge, tucking the red roseatte in the
bridle, “I’ve never in the coorse of a long life,” says he, “beheld such
classical leppin.” ... That was a day!
PEGGY. I know, Paddy.
PADDY. Did I ever tell you the story about the big brown horse,
Havoc, the time he gave a great lunge and pulled O’Cahan out of the
saddle and up on his neck?...
PEGGY. You did, Paddy. You told me all about it ... several times....
You’ll have to excuse me, Paddy. I want a few words privately with
Hugh....
PADDY. Certainly. I’ll pull out the minute he comes in.... But do
what I tell you now. Go with him wherever he goes. He’s only
five-and-twenty. Put your money on O’Cahan, Peggy. At thirty he’ll be
one of the successful men of the world.... [_He dries the sweat off his
brow._]
PEGGY. He’s a three-quarter Vet. as it is. Why doesn’t he finish?
PADDY. Aye--to vet Ford cars.... It’s disgusting! The blight is upon
us, Peggy. The horse is going, the O’Cahans are going, and the Paddy
Kinneys are doomed.... It’s Ireland’s tragedy, but she doesn’t know it.
PEGGY. I hear him coming, Paddy.
PADDY. All right, I’m going. But don’t forget Paddy Kinney’s warning,
or you’ll never know happiness again. Without O’Cahan by your side you
won’t know the summer from the winter but by the leaves on the
bushes....
_O’C. comes in, looking displeased. PADDY goes out, doleful._
PEGGY. I see you’re angry, Hugh. But mother sent me after uncle Tim.
O’C. I’m not angry. I’m ashamed of this place.
PEGGY. I’m not looking at the place at all. Is uncle in the kitchen?
O’C. Yes.
PEGGY. Will you tell him to go home? Mother wants him back.
O’C. I’m not holding him. But I won’t ask him to go. That would be
breaking an old custom in this house.
PEGGY. Will you let me see him?
O’C. I think he’s coming in.... [_Calls_] Come in, Professor.
PEGGY. Hugh, don’t call him Professor.... It hurts.
_PROF. comes in eating biscuits and cheese._
PROF. Hallo, pretty Peggy. Have you tracked me down already?
O’C. I’ll leave you....
PEGGY. You needn’t, Hugh.... Uncle Tim, you’re to come home.
PROF. Want the luxury of throwing me out again?
PEGGY. I didn’t throw you out.
PROF. Your mother did.
PEGGY. Well, she wants you back. She sent me to fetch you. The
stationmaster has sent out your valise....
PROF. Your mother must think it contains something valuable.
[_Chuckling._] Gum, she’s mistaken. The contents are some old clothes
and a hazel rod--the symbol of my profession.
PEGGY. Hugh, won’t you tell him to come with me? Please.
O’C. He can suit himself, Peggy. He knows how matters are here.
PROF. I’ll stroll over after a bit, Peggy. We’re going to’ve an
auction here. Gum, I’ll stay till it’s over.... See a bit of Irish life.
_PADDY puts his head in._
PADDY. There’s a railway porter here with an ould port-mantle. He
wants a tip.
PROF. Gum, Paddy, you’ve got a sense of humour. [_Going_] I thought
I’d dropped it in London. [_Goes out._]
PEGGY. Are the Kilroys here?
O’C. Yes, they’re hovering around somewhere--like jackals.
PEGGY. They’re going to buy Rush Hill for Joseph and me.
O’C. So I believe.
PEGGY. And you don’t mind?
O’C. Don’t mind? That’s a rather funny question. Suppose I did mind.
Would that alter it?
PEGGY. You never know. Marrying Joseph Kilroy is one thing, but
coming to live here is another.
O’C. If you can do the one you can do both.
PEGGY. I may do neither. What time are you leaving here to-night?
O’C. Whatever time the last train goes. Seven o’clock, I think.
PEGGY. I’m going to ask you a pointed question, Hugh. How much money
have you?
O’C. I got two hundred pounds for Havoc. I’ve that, but I’ve to pay
for a colt out of it. Forty pounds.
PEGGY [_takes out packet_]. These presents would make two hundred
more. If you don’t sell them, I will!
O’C. Suit yourself.
PEGGY. Will you call at our house before you go?
O’C. What’s the idea, Peggy?
PEGGY. Never mind that now. Will you call?
O’C. Some new notion. I’ll call anyhow. About six.
PEGGY. Thanks. [_Puts the packet in her pocket._] I’ll expect you at
six.... I’ll go now and try and get uncle Tim to come home with me....
_PROF. comes in with an old valise, plastered with innumerable
labels._
PROF. Gum, this old valise and me have seen some ups and downs. [_He
puts it on a chair and fumbles for the key._] I’ve dropped it in Paris,
and picked it up in Honolulu....
PEGGY. Aren’t you coming home, uncle?
PROF. It’s been stolen in London and restored to me in Japan. [_He
opens it._] A man might as well try to lose his third wife....
PEGGY. Aren’t you coming home, uncle?
PROF. [_takes out a cleft hazel rod_]. I’m going to do a little
professional work. I’ve an idea this house is built on a spring. [_He
starts prospecting for water._]
PEGGY. Uncle!
O’C. Leave him alone, Peggy. It’s interesting.
PROF. There’s water here, somewhere. [_The rod vibrates._] Wo, gal!
[_The rod dips quickly._] Gum, this is powerful! [_The rod twists itself
violently out of his hands._] Three springs converge to a point at fifty
feet, Hugh.
O’C. It must be a lake.
PROF. A lake has got no life. It’s dead. A spring has a pulse and
lives. I can hear a spring breathing.
PEGGY. Now, uncle, aren’t you coming home? You’ve done very well.
You’ve shown us up....
O’C. Yes, you’d better go home with your niece, Tim. I’ll see you
again before I go away.
PROF. Right, boss. [_He puts the rod in the valise and is going out
with PEGGY._]
O’C. If you leave your valise in the hall I’ll send Paddy over with
it.
PEGGY. Thanks, Hugh. [_She and the PROF. go out._]
O’C. [_calls_]. Are you there, Paddy?
MOLL [_off_]. Paddy’s in the stable, master. [_She comes in._] Is it
anything very urgent?
O’C. No. You can tell Paddy to take the Professor’s valise over to
Scally’s later on.
MOLL. I’ll tell him. [_Sighing_] Och, hum! I hate to break the news,
master. But the auctioneer’s coming....
O’C. I heard the car, Moll. Let him come. The sooner it’s over the
better. [_Looking out_] It’s going to rain....
MOLL [_going_]. I hope it rains heavens hard ... and drowns the
grabbers! [_Goes out._]
O’C. [_turns uncle’s portrait face to wall_]. Poor old man! You
mustn’t see the last act in this drama.
_MR. ALLISON comes in, attaché-case in hand._
ALLISON. Good morning, Mr. O’Cahan. You’ll hardly believe this. I’d
rather go a thousand miles than do this job.
O’C. I certainly don’t believe a word of it, Sam. But I quite
understand--you have to say something. Even the undertaker has to say
something.
ALLISON. Perhaps you’ll believe this. I take no special pleasure in
selling you up.
O’C. That’s better. You’ve no respect of person. The sale’s the
thing.
ALLISON. You’re cynical.
O’C. Just the least bit. But you can believe this, Sam. If there’s
anything in it, since it has to be sold anyhow, I’d rather see you here
than anyone else.
ALLISON. Thanks, Hugh. I know it.... James Kilroy is going to buy it.
O’C. So I’m told.
ALLISON. Have you anyone here to run it up on him?
O’C. No, sir. I don’t believe in doing dirty work for the Bank.
ALLISON. Paddy Kinney has destroyed all chance of a sale. He made a
house-to-house canvass and got the neighbours to boycott the auction.
O’C. If he did I knew nothing about it. But it’s like a thing Paddy
would do.
ALLISON. I’m going to tell you a secret, Hugh. The Bank’s reserve is
three thousand pounds. If it doesn’t make that at the auction it won’t
be sold.
O’C. It won’t make it.
ALLISON. Then Kilroy’ll have a private deal with the Bank. You see?
You ought to’ve had someone here to run it up.
O’C. My dear sir, sale or no sale, I’m clearing out to-night. I don’t
care whether it makes three thousand pounds or three-ha’pence.
ALLISON. Oh, that’s different.
_KILROY, JOSEPH, and JOHN appear in the doorway._
KILROY. I hope we’re not intruding. It’s going to rain.
O’C. No intrusion. This is an auction. Come in.
_All three come in. O’C. stands on the hearth-rug and trims his
finger-nails._
KILROY. You’re not going to’ve a big crowd, Mr. Allison.
ALLISON. Evidently not.
O’C. The number of local grabbers is smaller, Mr. Kilroy, than you
thought.
KILROY. I don’t like the way you put that, sir!
O’C. I thought you wouldn’t like it. That’s why I put it that way.
KILROY [_hotly_]. Do you call me a grabber?
O’C. Now, now. Don’t lose your head. This isn’t the Rural Council.
KILROY. By heavens, O’Cahan, you and your uncle always treated me
like dirt!
O’C. We always liked to treat a man as we found him.
KILROY. But it’s my turn now. I’m here to buy Rush Hill, and I don’t
care who it angers or who it pleases.... Now, Mr. Allison, read the
terms. It’s long after eleven o’clock.
_PADDY comes in dressed like a man of means._
PADDY. Is the sile ovah?
ALLISON. No, sir. It’s not on yet.
PADDY. Awh, that’s lucky.
KILROY. Read the terms, Mr. Allison.
ALLISON. I’ll go out to the front steps....
KILROY. Well, come ahead. I don’t care where you read them.
_KILROY, JOSEPH, PADDY, JOHN, and ALLISON go out._
O’C. [_stands listening_]. I wonder who put Kinney up to this!...
Probably his own notion.... [_Smiles._] Poor old Paddy! He’s as much a
part of Rush Hill as the O’Cahans.
_MRS. SCALLY comes in._
MRS. S. Where is my daughter?
O’C. Which of them?
MRS. S. Peggy!
O’C. I don’t know, madam, where she is.
MRS. S. Don’t you dare to stand there and tell me you don’t know! She
came over here half an hour ago....
O’C. I’m afraid that sort of talk has no effect on me. You see I’m
neither your husband nor one of your offspring.
MRS. S. Thank God, you’re nothing to me!
O’C. Amen. One couldn’t be too grateful.
MRS. S. You’ve lost everything but the O’Cahan cheek.
O’C. And you have gained everything but good manners.
MRS. S. While I’m here I’ll give you a bit of my mind. You’re a
disgrace to the parish. A living disgrace.
O’C. Thank you for saying it to my face. You’ve been saying it a long
time behind my back.
MRS. S. Everything I said was true.
O’C. [_shrugs_]. I never contradicted anything.
MRS. S. Because you couldn’t. The proof is written all over Rush
Hill.... The tree is known by its fruit.
O’C. In Ireland a man is better known by the number of people who
stay away from his auction.
MRS. S. [_looks around_]. Lord above! The condition of this room
tells a long story. Confusion and calamity.
O’C. It was very amusing here a few minutes ago. The eminent
Professor was prospecting for water.
MRS. S. You’re a likely one to be throwing stones.
O’C. I’m not throwing any stones. I think Professor Tim a very
interesting man.
MRS. S. You and the Professor have a great deal in common, no doubt.
O’C. Much more than you could imagine. There are only two sorts of
people in the world. Interesting people and bores. I can never have too
much of the one, nor too little of the other. [_Yawns in his sleeve._]
MRS. S. I ask you again, where is Peggy?
O’C. She isn’t here, madam. She and the Professor returned to your
hospitable roof a little while ago.
MRS. S. Did they go the back way?
O’C. Evidently, since you didn’t meet them on the front way.
MRS. S. And what’s the valise doing in the hall?
O’C. It’s waiting for Paddy Kinney to carry it across. You can have
it if you wish.
MRS. S. That’s all I wanted to know! I’ll stay here for the auction.
O’C. You’re very welcome. Won’t you sit down?
MRS. S. No, I’ll just look about me....
_ALLISON puts his head in._
ALLISON. Mr. O’Cahan, could I have something to stand up on? I’m
going to auction in the hall. It’s going to be a downpour....
O’C. Why not come in here? I haven’t the smallest objection.
MRS. S. Come in, Mr. Allison. Come in, Mr. Kilroy.
_ALLISON, KILROY, JOSEPH, JOHN and PADDY come in._
ALLISON [_mounting a chair_]. I suppose we may as well commence....
MRS. S. God bless me, is this all the people?
ALLISON. I’m sorry to say it is, madam. The sale has been boycotted.
MRS. S. Oh, well. It’ll just go all the cheaper.
ALLISON [_takes out hammer_]. Gentlemen, you’ve heard the terms of
sale. I’ve also told you that the Bank has fixed a reserve price below
which Rush Hill can’t be sold to-day.... Now, I’ll take offers....
MRS. S. Come, John. Bid up.
JOHN [_dourly_]. Let somebody else start it. I hate these
auction-outs.
_MOLL appears in the doorway._
MOLL. Here’s the great Professor Tim ... looking for his sister
Briget Scally....
KILROY. Good, good! Bring in the Professor! This is very lucky....
MRS. S. [_reeling towards door_]. No, no no! Don’t let him in....
_She tries to push out past MOLL, who shoves her back into the
room._
MOLL. Stay in there, Vanity Fair! till the hand of God falls on you
in public. [_Shouts_] Come in, Professor! Come in. Your sister Briget’s
just dying to meet you....
_PROF. staggers in. KILROY gasps._
PROF. Hallo, all! Am I in time? Gum, it’s an infinitely small
auction.
KILROY. Who in the devil’s name is this?
MRS. S. James Kilroy, this is my brother. He gave me to understand he
was a Professor. And there he’s after twenty years’ rambling. A
disgrace. And Hugh O’Cahan has made the most of him.
KILROY. I see. This has been all staged before. But it won’t work.
MRS. S. That’s the style, James. That’s common sense. This tramp’s
visit needn’t interfere with our plans. He’ll go off to-night.... He can
go with O’Cahan....
PROF. I’ll go off when I’m ready. [_To ALLISON_] Go on, mister. Open
the bazaar. It’s over twenty years since I attended an Irish auction.
KILROY. Go ahead, Allison. Five hundred pounds.
ALLISON. I won’t take that bid.
PADDY. Fifteen ’undred.
MOLL. Hurrah!
ALLISON. I’ll take that bid. I’m offered fifteen hundred pounds....
PROF. Two thousand! Gum, it’s worth that between a Scot and a Jew.
MRS. S. Mr. Allison, this man hasn’t a white sixpence. I’ll have to
give him what’ll take him away....
PADDY. Twenty-two ’undred.
ALLISON. Steady now, gentlemen. I’m bid twenty-two hundred pounds.
JOSEPH [_wildly_]. Twenty-two-fifty!
KILROY. Easy now, Joseph! Easy. Don’t get excited.... [_He drags
JOSEPH away._]
PADDY. Twenty-four ’undred.
PROF. Twenty-five hundred.
PADDY. Twenty-six.
PROF. Twenty-seven.
PADDY. Twenty-nine.
PROF. [_to PADDY_]. Gum, you’re a crafty gentleman. You want it
knocked down to me at three thousand....
_The KILROYS and MRS. S. are on the nerves._
KILROY [_loudly_]. This is a put-up job! The whole thing--Professor
and all--is a piece of O’Cahan’s twisting....
O’C. [_strides across to KILROY_]. Say that again!
JOSEPH [_gets behind his father_]. Now, father. Into him!
KILROY [_afraid_]. Didn’t you call me a grabber?
O’C. And what the blazes else are you? Haven’t you got a home of your
own?
JOSEPH. Intil him, father!
O’C. Listen to me, Kilroy! I’ve been taught in good company to keep
my temper. To win or lose all like a sportsman. But no man ever called
me a twister twice. I’ll let you slip this once. But if you speak to me
again, so help me God, you and your clown of a son’ll leave this room
feet first! [_Goes back to his place._]
JOSEPH [_shivering_]. Intil him, father! He struck me with a whip
this morning....
PROF. My advice to you, young man, is to keep quiet. Your father is
too old, and you’re too young. And I’ve grave doubts as to your courage.
ALLISON. I’m selling this farm. You can exchange compliments later
on. [_To PADDY_] Your last bid is twenty-nine hundred pounds, sir?
PADDY. Yes. Knock it dahn.
ALLISON. I’m offered two thousand nine hundred pounds by a strange
gentleman who has evidently come to buy Rush Hill and who has no quarrel
with anyone. Any advance?
PROF. Another fifty pounds. Keep the ball rolling....
MRS. S. [_shrieks_]. Don’t take his bid! The man couldn’t buy a box
of matches.... James Kilroy, a word with you and Joseph.
_MRS. S., KILROY and JOSEPH confer._
PROF. Did you take my bid, mister?
ALLISON. No, sir. I don’t want to hear from you again. If you have
money to buy Rush Hill, you ought to invest a little in soap and a
shave....
PROF. Mister, you’ve no more brains than that hammer.
_KILROYS and MRS. S. come back._
ALLISON. Well, Mr. Kilroy. Are you going to give us another bid?
JOSEPH. Gwon, father.
KILROY [_after a glance at PADDY_]. Three thousand pound....
PADDY. Thirty-one ’undred.
KILROY [_losing his head_]. Thirty-two hundred.
PADDY. Thirty-three.
KILROY [_dancing_]. Thirty-four.
PADDY. Thirty-four-fifty.
KILROY. Thirty-five hundred!
PADDY [_turns away_]. I’m through.
KILROY [_grabs hold of him_]. Don’t go away. Stand your ground like a
man....
PADDY [_freeing himself_]. Mind your own business. I’m through.
ALLISON. At three thousand five hundred pounds ... going ...
going....
KILROY. Don’t, Allison! Wait a minute. [_Looks wildly at PADDY_] Come
on, man. Give it another bid.
PADDY. No more. I’m through. [_Exit, followed by MOLL._]
ALLISON. If no advance, at three thousand five hundred pounds ...
going ... going ... gone! Mr. James J. Kilroy’s the buyer.
JOSEPH. Hurrah for my father! The finest man in the nation. He can
buy Rush Hill. And I can marry Peggy Scally. [_He runs out._]
KILROY [_sighs_]. I’m ruined.
ALLISON [_getting down_]. Nonsense. It’s worth five thousand pounds.
[_Takes out document._] Sign this agreement, James.
KILROY. I’ll sign nothing here. I’ll sign at the Bank. I’m going
straight in to the Bank.
ALLISON. I’m the auctioneer. This preliminary agreement has got to be
signed here and now.
KILROY [_irritably_]. I’ll not sign it!
ALLISON. All right, sir. As agent for buyer and seller I can sign for
both. [_He writes KILROY’S name._]
PROF. That’s right, Allison. Don’t let the big codfish escape....
KILROY [_pulling himself together_]. James J. Kilroy, R.D.C., never
hedged in a deal yet. I wanted Rush Hill at less money, but it’s worth
all it cost.... Hand me that pen, Allison. I’ll sign.
ALLISON. It’s all right, James. I signed your name. You can meet me
in the Bank at two o’clock.
KILROY. I’ll be there!
ALLISON. Good-bye, Mr. O’Cahan. Thank you for treating us so well.
O’C. Don’t mention it, Sam.
_ALLISON goes out._
PROF. We made you pay through the nose for it, Kilroy.
KILROY. Mrs. Scally, if you’ve that man about the house to-night I
needn’t bring Mrs. Kilroy....
MRS. S. Leave that to me, James. Bring your wife over at six o’clock
as we arranged.
KILROY. Well, I will. [_Goes out._]
MRS. S. John, who was that strange man?
JOHN. I don’t know nor I don’t care!
_PADDY comes in, in his own clothes._
PADDY. The strange man, is it? I can tell you who he was. He was a
man the Bank sent out to sweeten it. And I can tell you more. James
Kilroy’s the buyer, but he’ll have the devil’s own time getting bail.
JOHN. By hokey, that’s news!
MRS. S. Silence, John. Would you heed a drunken horseboy? [_To
PROF._] Now, Tim dear, come with me. You need a good rest. You’re
tired....
PROF. [_rising._] Stand back, Briget! I don’t want a good
rest--closed in the barn. [_Loudly_] My valise! Where’s my valise?
MRS. S. Where are you going?
PROF. I’m off. Important engagement in London.
MRS. S. That’s a good man. Keep your appointment. Or I’ll put you
where you won’t keep any appointments for a day or two. [_To JOHN_] Is
James Kilroy away, John?
JOHN. No, he’s talking out at the front.
MRS. S. Tell him to come here. Quick now.
_JOHN goes out._
PROF. My valise!
_MOLL comes in with the old valise._
MOLL. Here’s your valise, Professor. And I suppose all your
theological tools are inside of it. [_Lays it beside him._]
PROF. Good-bye, O’Cahan. Thanks for the bread and cheese. That’s more
than I have to thank my own sister for.
O’C. Don’t mention it, Professor. [_Gives him money._] Sorry I’m
leaving here myself, or you could have lain around and had a rest.
PROF. [_salutes_]. You’re a chip off the old block. In rain or shine,
the O’Cahans were fine men. [_Goes to PADDY_] Good-bye, Kinney. Thanks
for the two bob....
MRS. S. Lord above, did you take money from Paddy Kinney?
PROF. I did, and was glad to get it.... Good-bye, Paddy.
PADDY. Good-bye, Professor. May we all see better days.
PROF. Adieu, Moll Flanagan. Don’t sit on a barrel of gunpowder with
that dress.
MOLL. Good-bye, y’ould wreck ye! Yourself and that portmantual should
be taken out to a bog and buried.
PROF. Gum, that’s right, Moll. A long rest in an Irish bog would just
suit me. I’m so tired.
_KILROY and JOHN come in._
MRS. S. James Kilroy, will you drive my brother to the station? He
wants to catch the first train.
KILROY. I’d drive him to the very devil! [_To PROF._] Where are you
going?
PROF. Important engagement in London.
KILROY. Gimme that ould bag! And come with me. [_Takes valise._] It
won’t be my fault if you miss the train. [_Exit KILROY._]
PROF. My sister, I won’t bid you good-bye. You treated me like a
yellow dog. [_To JOHN_] Good-bye, Johnny. I don’t blame you. You’re only
a scarecrow on your own farm. A domestic serf.
JOHN. I’ve no money, Tim, or I’d give you some.
PROF. It’s all right, Johnny. I understand your financial status.
Briget carries the purse in her trousers pocket.
_PROF. goes out._
MRS. S. Oh, thank God to be rid of that disgrace!
PADDY. Don’t have your thanksgiving service too soon, Mrs. Scally. He
might come back.
MRS. S. Come on, John. We’ll watch till they put him in the trap
anyway.
_MRS. S. and JOHN go out._
MOLL. Och, hum, anee, oh! [_Tears down the curtain._]
PADDY. Didn’t I give the mastiff Kilroy a good run for his money,
master?
O’C. Very good indeed, Paddy. [_He takes down uncle’s portrait, then
points to the sideboard_] Take those cups and things in to O’Hanlon, the
vet, Paddy, and tell him to keep them for me till I write for them....
And you and Moll can carry away as much of the other stuff as you
like.... I’m leaving Rush Hill to-night.
_O’C. goes out with portrait. PADDY and MOLL exchange a long
look, then turn back to back and weep quietly._
_Curtain_
------------------------------------------------------------------------