(Puts a penny on counter and runs out.)
Tommy Nally: (Coming in shaking with excitement.) For the love of God, Mr. Nestor, will you give me that live-trap on credit!
Nestor: A trap? Sure there is no temptation for rats to be settling themselves in the Workhouse.
Nally: Or a snare itself ... or any sort of a thing that would make the makings of a crib.
Nestor: What would you want, I wonder, going out fowling with a crib?
Nally: Why wouldn’t I want it? Why wouldn’t I have leave to catch a bird the same as every other one?
Nestor: And what would the likes of you be wanting with a bird?
Nally: What would I want with it, is it? Why wouldn’t I be getting my own ten pounds?
Nestor: Heaven help your poor head this day!
Nally: Why wouldn’t I get it the same as Mrs. Broderick got it?