Mrs. J. The Saints preserve us!
T. J. If it isn’t Michael Joner himself!
Mr. J. It is so (pointing indignantly). And what call had you to make a graven image of him in the public street the like of the Kings of England or Parnell himself?
Mrs. J. And what call had you to come back from the dead without a word of warning and I after promising myself to a better man?
Mr. J. (still full of statue). “Gave his life for his fellow-trav——” And is it mad you all are?
Mrs. J. Then you did not do so? (To T. J.) Wasn’t I telling you?
Mr. J. I did not indeed. And why would I—the low heathen—and I that had my fare paid to Tarshish?
Mrs. J. and T. J. raise their eyebrows at this suspicious utterance.
Mrs. J. Tarshish! Sure it’s drunk he is!... Then how came you lepping into the water like a young dog or a boy that does be diving in the hot weather, and you with——
Mr. J. It was not lepping I was nor diving neither, but it’s thrown in I was by a lot of heathen sailors because I was after prophesying the wrath of the Lord upon them——