Phil. He is,—and I’m fond enough of him, too, would he only give me the price of a horse. But no matter—spite of him I’ll have my swing the day, and it’s I that will tear away with a good horse under me and a good whip over him in a capital style, up and down the street of Ballynavogue, for you, Miss Car’line Flaherty! I know who I’ll go to, this minute—a man I’ll engage will lend me the loan of his bay gelding; and that’s Counshillor Gerald O’Blaney. {Going, HONOR stops him.
Honor. Gerald O’Blaney! Oh, brother!—Mercy!—Don’t! any thing rather than that—
Phil. (impatiently) Why, then, Honor?
Honor. (aside) If I’d tell him, there’d be mischief. (Aloud.) Only—I wouldn’t wish you under a compliment to one I’ve no opinion of.
Phil. Phoo! you’ve taken a prejudice. What is there again Counshillor O’Blaney?
Honor. Counshillor! First place, why do you call him counshillor? he never was a raal counshillor sure—nor jantleman at all.
Phil. Oh! counshillor by courtesy—he was an attorney once—just as we doctor the apotecary.
Honor. But, Phil, was not there something of this man’s being dismissed the courts for too sharp practice?
Phil. But that was long ago, if it ever was. There’s sacrets in all families to be forgotten—bad to be raking the past. I never knew you so sharp on a neighbour, Honor, before:—what ails ye?
Honor. (sighing) I can’t tell ye. {Still holding him.