Dr. F. Try a few more cups, keep it up. Norah, don’t you see his cup is empty. Pour him another.
Norah. The mon’ll explode purty soon a drinkin’. He’s swellin’ already. (Patsy takes cup.)
Dr. F. Hold your tongue. The charm’s working finely.
Norah. Faith it’s time, the tay pot’s impty.
Dr. F. (Jumping up surprised.) Empty! Why girl it holds a gallon!
Norah. An’ he’s drunk it all. The poor bye must have the stomach of an osterich or a dodo.
Dr. F. Patsy, do you mean to say that you have drank a gallon of tea?
Patsy. Faith, I think it’s nearer a barrel.
Dr. F. And how do you feel?