Taig: (Awed.) It cannot be that you are Dermot Melody?
Darby: My father's name was Melody sure enough, till he lost his life in the year of the black potatoes.
Taig: It is yourself I am come here purposely to meet with.
Darby: You should be my mother's sister's son so, Timothy O'Harragha.
Taig: (Sheepishly.) I am that. I am sorry indeed it failed me to be out before you in the street.
Darby: Oh, I wouldn't be looking for that much from you.
(They are trying to keep their backs to each other, and to rub their faces cleaner.)
Taig: I wouldn't wish to be anyway troublesome to you. I am badly worthy of you.
Darby: It is in dread I am of being troublesome to yourself.
Taig: Oh, it would be hard for you to be that. Nothing you could put on me would be any hardship at all, if it was to walk steel thistles.