Catty. Kneel! oh, to an ould woman like me—no standing that! So here, on my hunkers I am, for your sake, Randal, and not a word, good or bad! Can woman do more? (She sits with her fingers on her lips.)
Mr. Carv. Now for your defence, Philip: be short, for mercy’s sake! (pulling out his watch.)
Phil. Not to be detaining your honour too long—I was in Ballynavogue this forenoon, and was just—that is, Miss Car’line Flaherty was just—
Mr. Carv. Miss Caroline Flaherty! What in nature can she have to do with the business?
Phil. Only axing me, sir, she was, to play the flageolets, which was the rason I was sitting at Flaherty’s.
Mr. Carv. Address yourself to the court, young man.
Phil. Sitting at Flaherty’s—in the parlour, with the door open, and all the McBrides which was in it was in the outer room taking a toombler o’ punch I trated ‘em to—but not drinking—not a man out o’ the way—when in comes that gentlewoman. (Pointing to Mrs. ROONEY.—RANDAL groans.) Never fear, Randal, I’ll tell it as soft as I can.
Old McB. Soft, why? Mighty soft cratur ever since he was born, plase your honour, though he’s my son.
Mr. Carv. (putting his fingers on his lips) Friend Matthew, no reflections in a court of justice ever. Go on, Philip.
Phil. So some one having tould Mrs. Rooney lies, as I’m confident, sir—for she come in quite mad, and abused my sister Honor; accusing her, before all, of being sitting and giving her company to Randal Rooney at Flaherty’s, drinking, and something about a ring, and a meeting behind the chapel, which I couldn’t understand;—but it fired me, and I stepped—but I recollected I’d promised Honor not to let her provoke me to lift a hand good or bad—so I stepped across very civil, and I said to her, says I, Ma’am, it’s all lies—some one has been belying Honor McBride to you, Mrs. Rooney.