Mother: Oh, Celia, there has strange things
happened!
Celia: What I see strange is that some person
has meddled with that hill of ashes on the hearth
and set it flying athrough the air. Is it hens ye
are wishful to be, that would be searching and
scratching in the dust for grains? And this thrown
down in the midst! (Holds up bellows.)
Conan: Give me my bellows!
Mother: No, but give it to me!
Rock and Flannery: Give it to myself!
Timothy: (Looking up, with hands on ears.)
My curse upon it and its work. Little I care if it
goes up with the clouds.
Celia: What in the world wide makes the whole
of ye so eager to get hold of such a thing?
Conan
: It has but the one blast left!
(Sings.)