Norah. Do ye hear that, Mike? That Chinaman’s goin’ to ruin the place! Oh, do stop him.
Mike. Let the haythen airn his wages. (Piercing shrieks from B.)
Norah. Oh Mike, do stop him. He’ll kill Mr. Boyler.
Mike. (Unconcernedly.) Faith, that’s nothin’. That’s the way the ould badger goes on ivery day if I only touch a bit av a sore spot. A good shakin’ up’ll benefit him greatly. I think he’ll be ready nixt for the bat’s liver oil.
Norah. Merciful powers! Did ye say bat’s liver oil?
Mike. Bat’s liver oil, I said. (Patsy comes out to make sneak for bottle, Mike turns and sees him.) Hould on there, Patsy! The docthor and meself have institooted a regular coorse (B. yells) “Mike, where are you?” Here, sor. (To Norah.) First comes the hot bath at noinety noine degrays Farenhot, followed by pullin’ the limbs, on the injy rubber plan. (Business of stretching patient’s arm.) Nixt is the alictricity an’ liniment; thin comes the bat’s liver oil.
Norah. An’ what will be next?
Mike. That’s a saycret like the Kaly cure.
Norah. Tell me wont you Mike?
Mike. Yis, if yez wont tell onybody. (Approaches her and puts up hand to her ear, then in very loud distinct stage whisper.) Sand paper!