Old McB. Hounds! I don’t want you, Phil, to be following the hounds at-all-at-all.
Honor. But let alone the hounds. If you sell your bullocks well in the fair to-day, father dear, I think you’ll be so kind to spare Phil the price of a horse.
Old McB. Stand out o’ my way, Honor, with that wheedling voice o’ your own—I won’t. Mind your own affairs—you’re leaguing again me, and I’ll engage Randal Rooney’s at the bottom of all—and the cement that sticks you and Phil so close together. But mind, Madam Honor, if you give him the meeting at the fair the day—
Honor. Dear father, I’m not going—I give up the fair o’ purpose, for fear I’d see him.
Old McB. (kissing her) Why then you’re a piece of an angel!
Honor. And you’ll give my brother the horse?
Old McB. I won’t! when I’ve said I won’t—I wont.
{Buttons his coat, and exit.
Phil. Now there’s a sample of a father for ye!
Old McB. (returning) And, Mistress Honor, may be you’d be staying at home to—Where’s Randal Rooney to be, pray, while I’d be from home?