(Celia goes off singing "The Beautiful City
of Sligo.")
Mother: (Sitting down.) I'm thinking it's seven
years to-day, James Rock, since you took a lend
of my clock.
Rock: You're raving! What call would I have
to ask a lend of your clock?
Mother: The way you would rise in time for
the fair of Feakle in the morning.
Rock: Did I now?
Mother: You did, and that's my truth. I was
standing here, and you were standing there, and
Celia that was but ten years was sucking the sugar
off a spoon I was after putting in a bag that had
come from the shop, for to put a grain into my
tea.
Rock: (Sneering.) Well now, didn't your memory
get very sharp!
Mother: You thought I had it forgot, but I
remember it as clear as pictures. The time it stood
at was seven minutes after four o'clock, and I
never saw it from that day till now. This very
day of the month it was, the year of the black
sheep having twins.
Rock: It was but an old clock anyway.
Mother: If it was it is seven years older since
I laid an eye on it. And it's kind father for you
robbing me, where it's often you robbed your own
mother, and you stealing away to go cardplaying
the half crowns she had hid in the churn.