Father T Half a mile! I’ll choke before he’s here.
Eily Do you mean Hardress?
Father T No, dear! Myles na Coppaleen—cum spiritu Hiberneuse—which manes in Irish, wid a keg of poteen.
Enter Myles, R. U. E., down C.
Myles Here I am, your riverince, never fear. I tould Sheelah to hurry up with the materials, knowin’ ye be dhry and hasty.
Enter Sheelah, with kettle of water, R. U. E.
Sheelah Here’s the hot water.
Myles Lave it there till I brew Father Tom a pint of mother’s milk.
Sheelah Well thin, ye’ll do your share of the work, an not a ha’porth more.
Myles Didn’t I bring the sperrits from two miles and more? and I deserve to have pref’rence to make the punch for his riverince.