Clarissa. Yes, mum. (Goes to door at L.)
Mrs. Mulligan. Mary Ann Mulligan, quit fooling with yer sash. If I've told yer once I've told yer a hundred times it's liable to bust and yer skirt and yer waist ain't on speakin' terms.
Clarissa (at door). Maw, here comes Mrs. O'Toole.
Mrs. Mulligan. It's the goat. He's been filling himself up on the O'Toole cabbages. My, my, that goat'll be the death of me yet.
Enter Mrs. O'Toole, limping in from L.
Mrs. O'Toole. Good evening, Mrs. Mulligan.
Mrs. Mulligan. The same to ye, Mrs. O'Toole. Come in and set down.
Mrs. O'Toole. I have no time to set down, and I have no inclination to set down. And it's all on account of yer goat, Shamus O'Brien.
Mrs. Mulligan. Me goat, is it?
Mrs. O'Toole. It is the same, and it's an injured woman I am this night.