Christy. Where but in my brains should I get it? I could do that much any way, I suppose, though it was not my luck to be edicated at Ferrinafad.
{Miss GALLAGHER looks back, and sees BIDDY behind her.—Miss GALLAGHER gives her a box on the ear.
Miss G. Manners! that’s to teach ye.
Biddy. Manners!—Where would I larn them—when I was only waiting the right time to ax you what I’d do for a clane pillow-case?
Miss G. Why, turn that you have inside out, and no more about it.
Christy. And turn yourself out of this, if you plase. (He turns BIDDY out by the shoulders.) Let me hear you singing Baltiorum in the kitchen, for security that you’re not hearing my sacrets. There, she’s singing it now, and we’re snug;—tell me when she stops, and I’ll stop myself.
Miss G. Then there’s the girl has ceased singing. There’s somebody’s come in, into the kitchen; may be it’s the drum-major. I’ll go and see.
{Exit Miss GALLAGHER.
CHRISTY, solus.
There she’s off now! And I must after her, else she’ll spoil her market, and my own. But look ye, now—if I shouldn’t find her agreeable to marry this Mr. Gilbert, the man I’ve laid out for her, why here’s a good stick that will bring her to rason in the last resort; for there’s no other way of rasoning with Ferrinafad.