Christy. Biddy! Biddy, girl, ye!—See the pig putting in his nose—keep him out—can’t ye?
Biddy. Hurrush! hurrush! (Shaking her apron.) Then that pig’s as sinsible as any Christian, for he’d run away the minute he’d see me.
Christy. That’s manners o’ the pig.—Put down a power more turf, Biddy:—see the jantlemen’s gathering round the fire, and has a right to be could in their knees this St. Patrick’s day in the morning—for it’s March, that comes in like a lion.
{The band during this speech appear to be speaking to BIDDY.—She comes forward to CHRISTY.
Christy. What is it they are whispering and conjuring, Biddy?
Biddy. ‘Twas only axing me, they were, could they all get beds the night in it.
Christy. Beds! ay can yees, and for a dozen more—only the room above is tinder in the joists, and I would not choose to put more on the floor than two beds, and one shake-down, which will answer for five; for it’s a folly to talk,—I’ll tell you the truth, and not a word of lie. Wouldn’t it be idle to put more of yees in the room than it could hold, and to have the floor be coming through the parlour ceiling, and so spoil two good rooms for one night’s bad rest, jantlemen?—Well, Biddy, what is it they’re saying?
Biddy. They say they don’t understand—can they have beds or not?
Christy. Why, body and bones! No, then, since nothing else will they comprehend,—no,—only five, say,—five can sleep in it.
{The band divide into two parties,—Five remain, and the others walk off in silence.