MRS. FENNESSEY Well then, if you're in bed and covered up, may I come in?
PATCHA (draws the clothes about him)
You can, ma'am.
MRS. FENNESSEY (enters, stands in front of the bed and
looks at Patcha)
And might I ask what's the matter with you?
PATCHA Oh, I don't exactly know, at all. I have a queer shaky feelin' runnin' down the spine and all over me. It must be the 'fluenza or maybe appendicitis, I'm thinkin'.
MRS. FENNESSEY Well, if that's the case, you'll get up this very instant and clear out of my house, for I don't want a sick man on my hands. And you that didn't pay me a farthin' of rent for this last six weeks.
PATCHA Didn't I promise to pay you a week over and above when I'd get a job? And this is the gratitute you're showin' me now for my kindness.
MRS. FENNESSEY What a lot of good your promises would do for any one. I want my rent, and you can keep your promises.
PATCHA Is it the way you'd be after turnin' a sick man from your door a cold freezin' day like this? And the snow thirty inches thick on the Galtee Mountains, and the air itself nearly frozen hard.
MRS. FENNESSEY 'Tis you're the nice sick man, indeed, with muscles on you like a statue or a prize fighter, and an appetite like an elephant. God knows then, you should be ashamed of yourself for nearly eating me out of house and home, and I a poor widow dependin' on the likes of you for a livin.' 'Tis I that wouldn't like to be the mother of a man such as yourself, God forgive you!
PATCHA I'm surprised at a dacent woman like you, Mrs. Fennessey, to stand there abusin' me for my misfortune instead of bringin' me up a good warm breakfast to nourish my wastin' frame, and encourage the good spirits to come back to my heart.