Michael Miskell. You scolding pauper you!
Mike McInerney. [Shaking his fist at him.] Wait a while!
Michael Miskell. [Shaking his fist.] Wait a while yourself!
[Mrs. Donohoe comes in with a parcel. She is a countrywoman with a frilled cap and a shawl. She stands still a minute. The two old men lie down and compose themselves.]
Mrs. Donohoe. They bade me come up here by the stair. I never was in this place at all. I don't know am I right. Which now of the two of ye is Mike McInerney?
Mike McInerney. Who is it is calling me by my name?
Mrs. Donohoe. Sure amn't I your sister, Honor McInerney that was, that is now Honor Donohoe.
Mike McInerney. So you are, I believe. I didn't know you till you pushed anear me. It is time indeed for you to come see me, and I in this place five year or more. Thinking me to be no credit to you, I suppose, among that tribe of the Donohoes. I wonder they to give you leave to come ask am I living yet or dead?
Mrs. Donohoe. Ah, sure, I buried the whole string of them. Himself was the last to go. [Wipes her eyes.] The Lord be praised he got a fine natural death. Sure we must go through our crosses. And he got a lovely funeral; it would delight you to hear the priest reading the Mass. My poor John Donohoe! A nice clean man, you couldn't but be fond of him. Very severe on the tobacco he was, but he wouldn't touch the drink.
Mike McInerney. And is it in Curranroe you are living yet?