Honor. Oh yes, any thing at all, ma’am; I’m not greedy—nor needy, thanks above! but it’s what I’d wish to be under your protection if it was plasing, and I’ll do my very best, madam. (Curtsies.)
Mrs. Carv. Nobody can expect more, and I hope and trust you’ll find mine an easy place—Bloomsbury, you will tell her, what will be required of her. (Mrs. Carver looks at her watch.) At twelve o’clock I shall be returned from my walk, and then, Honor, you will come into my cabinet here; I want to say a few words to you. {Exeunt omnes.
SCENE IV.
The High Road—A Cottage in view—Turf-stack, Hay-rick, &c.
Catty Rooney alone, walking backwards and forwards.
Catty. ‘Tis but a stone’s throw to Ballynavogue. But I don’t like to be going into the fair on foot, when I been always used to go in upon my pillion behind my husband when living, and my son Randal, after his death. Wait, who comes here?—‘Tis Gerald O’Blaney’s, the distiller’s, young man, Pat Coxe: now we’ll larn all—and whether O’Blaney can lend me the loan of a horse or no. A good morrow to you, kindly, Mr. Pat Coxe.
Enter PAT COXE.
Pat. And you the same, Mrs. Rooney, tinfold. Mr. O’Blaney has his sarvices to you, ma’am: no, not his sarvices, but his compliments, that was the word—his kind compliments, that was the very word.