Patsy. We are all here, maw.
Mrs. Mulligan. Now, yer all ready. Throw out yer heads. Forward, march!
Children. Good-bye, maw.
Mrs. Mulligan. Good-bye, and the Lord love yeez all. Have a good time. Good-bye. (The children march out at L.)
Mrs. O'Toole. Ten of 'em. I don't see how ye ever manage to make both ends meet, Mollie Mulligan, with ten big, healthy children—to say nothing of the goat, Shamus O'Brien.
Mrs. Mulligan (in door waving hand to children). Good-bye. Have a good time. (Yells.) Mary Ann, don't let yer sash bust in two! (Crosses to R. and sinks in chair.)
Mrs. O'Toole. Ye have a fine family, Mrs. Mulligan. Ye have a fine bunch of boys, and ye have a bunch of girls, and ye have a fine bunch of babies; but ye have an awful goat.
Mrs. Mulligan. Shamus O'Brien is the pest of me heart, Kathleen O'Toole; so he is; but he's all that's left of me late husband's property. Michael Mulligan thought the world of that goat, he did.
Mrs. O'Toole. I'm a peaceful woman, Mollie Mulligan, and a calm, neighborly woman; but I don't like goats.
Mrs. Mulligan. I don't blame ye at all, at all, Kathleen. But poor Shamus O'Brien was probably only nosing around fer a bit of Christmas Eve dinner. I'll kape him tied in the future.