Old McB. ‘Tis not exact—and I’m exact: I’ll put it all up again—(he puts it deliberately into the bag again, thrusting the bag into his pocket)—I’ll make it up at home my own way, and send it in to you by Phil in an hour’s time; for I could not sleep sound with so much in my house—bad people about—safer with you in town. Mr. Carver says, you are as good as the Bank of Ireland—there’s no going beyond that. (Buttoning up his pockets.) So you may unlock the doors and let me out now—I’ll send Phil with all to you, and you’ll give him a bit of a receipt or a token, that would do.
O’Bla. I shall give a receipt by all means—all regular: short accounts make long friends. (Unlocks the door.)
Old McB. True, sir, and I’ll come in and see about the settlements in the morning, if Honor is agreeable.
O’Bla. I shall make it my business to wait upon the young lady myself on the wings of love; and I trust I’ll not find any remains of Randal Rooney in her head.
Old McB. Not if I can help it, depend on that. (They shake hands.)
O’Bla. Then, fare ye well, father-in-law—that’s meat and drink to me: would not ye take a glass of wine then?
Old McB. Not a drop—not a drop at all—with money about me: I must be in a hurry home.
O’Bla. That’s true—so best: recommind me kindly to Miss Honor, and say a great dale about my impatience—and I’ll be expicting Phil, and won’t shut up till he comes the night.
Old McB. No, don’t; for he’ll be with you before night-fall. {Exit McBRIDE.
O’Bla. (calling) Dan! open the door, there: Dan! Joe! open the door smart for Mr. McBride! (O’BLANEY rubbing his hands.) Now I think I may pronounce myself made for life—success to my parts!—and here’s Pat too! Well, Pat Coxe, what news of the thing in hand?