_Catty._ Is it who told me? No--I won"t mintion a sintence of your name.
But let me by--I won"t be put off now I"ve got the scent. I"ll hunt "em out, and drag her to shame, if they"re above ground, or my name"s not Catty Rooney! Mick! Mick! little Mick! (_calling at the cottage door_) bring my blue _jock_ up the road after me to Ballynavogue. Don"t let me count three till you"re after me, or I"ll bleed ye! (_Exit CATTY, shaking her closed hand, and repeating_) I"ll expose Honor McBride--I"ll expose Honor! I will, by the blessing!
_Pat._ (_alone_) Now, if Randal Rooney would hear, he"d make a jelly of me, and how I"d trimble; or the brother, if he comed across me, and knewed. But they"ll niver know. Oh, Catty won"t say a sintence of my name, was she carded! No, Catty"s a scould, but has a conscience. Then I like conscience in them I have to dale with sartainly. [_Exit._
SCENE V.
_Mrs. CARVER"S Dressing-room, HONOR McBRIDE and MISS BLOOMSBURY discovered._
_Honor._ How _will_ I know, Miss Bloomsbury, when it will be twelve o"clock?
_Bloom._ You"ll hear the clock strike: but I suspect you"se don"t understand the clock yet--well, you"ll hear the workmen"s bell.
_Honor._ I know, ma"am, oh, I know, true--only I was flurried, so I forgot.
_Bloom._ Flurried! but never be flurried. Now mind and keep your head upon your shoulders, while I tell you all your duty--you"ll just ready this here room, your lady"s dressing-room; not a partical of dust let me never find, petticlarly behind the vindor shuts.
_Honor._ Vindor shuts!--where, ma"am?
_Bloom._ The _shuts_ of the _vindors_--did you never hear of a vindor, child?
_Honor._ Never, ma"am.
_Bloom._ (_pointing to a window_) Don"t tell me! why, your head is a wool-gathering! Now, mind me, pray--see here, always you put that there,--and this here, and that upon that,--and this upon this, and this under that,--and that under this--you can remember that much, child, I supposes?
_Honor._ I"ll do my endeavour, ma"am, to remember all.
_Bloom._ But mind, now, my good girl, you takes _petticlar_ care of this here pyramint of j.a.panned china--and _very_ petticlar care of that there great joss--and the _very most petticularest_ care of this here right reverend Mandolin. (_Pointing to, and touching a Mandarin, so as to make it shake. HONOR starts back._)
_Bloom._ It i"n"t alive. Silly child, to start at a Mandolin shaking his head and beard at you. But, oh! mercy, if there i"n"t enough to make him shake his head. Stand there!--stand here!--now don"t you see?
_Honor._ _Which_, ma"am?
_Bloom._ "_Which, ma"am!_" you"re no _witch_, indeed, if you don"t see a cobweb as long as my arm. Run, run, child, for the pope"s head.
_Honor._ Pope"s head, ma"am?
_Bloom._ Ay, the pope"s head, which you"ll find under the stairs. Well, a"n"t you gone? what do you stand there like a stuck pig, for?--Never see a pope"s head?--never "ear of a pope"s head?
_Honor._ I"ve heard of one, ma"am--with the priest; but we are protestants.
_Bloom._ Protestants! what"s that to do? I do protest, I believe that little head of yours is someway got wrong on your shoulders to-day.
[_The clock strikes_--HONOR, _who is close to it, starts._
_Bloom._ Start again!--why, you"re all starts and fits. Never start, child! so ignoramus like! "tis only the clock in your ear,--twelve o"clock, hark!--The bell will ring now in a hurry. Then you goes in there to my lady--stay, you"ll never be able, I dare for to say, for to open the door without me; for I opine you are not much usen"d to bra.s.s locks in Hirish cabins--can"t be expected. See here, then! You turns the lock in your hand this"n ways--the lock, mind now; not the key nor the bolt for your life, child, else you"d bolt your lady in, and there"d be my lady in Lob"s pound, and there"d be a pretty kettle, of fish!--So you keep, if you can, all I said to you in your head, if possible--and you goes in there--and I goes out here.
[_Exit BLOOMSBURY._
_Honor._ (curtsying) Thank ye, ma"am. Then all this time I"m sensible I"ve been behaving and looking little better than like a fool, or an _innocent._--But I hope I won"t be so bad when the lady shall speak to me. (_The bell rings._) Oh, the bell summons me in here.--(_Speaks with her hand on the lock of the door_) The lock"s asy enough--I hope I"ll take courage--(_sighs_)--Asier to spake before one nor two, any way--and asier tin times to the mistress than the maid. [_Exit HONOR._
ACT II.
SCENE I.
_GERALD O"BLANEY"S Counting-house._
_O"BLANEY alone._
_O"Bla._ Then I wonder that ould Matthew McBride is not here yet. But is not this Pat c.o.xe coming up yonder? Ay. Well, Pat, what success with Catty?
_Enter PAT c.o.xE, panting._
Take breath, man alive--What of Catty?
_Pat._ Catty! Oh, murder! No time to be talking of Catty now! Sure the shupervizor"s come to town.
_O"Bla._ Blood!--and the malt that has not paid duty in the cellar! Run, for your life, to the back-yard, give a whistle to call all the boys that"s ricking o" the turf, away with "em to the cellar, out with every sack of malt that"s in it, through the back-yard, throw all into the middle of the turf-stack, and in the wink of an eye build up the rick over all, snoog (snug).
_Pat._ I"ll engage we"ll have it done in a crack. [_Exit PAT._
_O"Bla._ (_calling after him_) Pat! Pat c.o.xe! man!
_Re-enter PAT._
_O"Bla._ Would there be any fear of any o" the boys _informin_?
_Pat._ Sooner cut their ears off! [_Exit PAT._
_Enter Old McBRIDE, at the opposite side._
_Old McB._ (_speaking in a slow, drawling brogue_) Would Mr. Gerald O"Blaney, the counsellor, be within?
_O"Bla._ (_quick brogue_) Oh, my best friend, Matthew McBride, is it you, dear? Then here"s Gerald O"Blaney, always at your sarvice. But shake hands; for of all men in Ireland, you are the man I was aching to lay my eyes on. And in the fair did ye happen to meet Carver of Bob"s Fort?
_Old McB._ (_speaking very slowly_) Ay. did I--and he was a-talking to me, and I was a-talking to him--and he"s a very good gentleman, Mr.
Carver of Bob"s Fort--so he is--and a gentleman that knows how things should be; and he has been giving of me, Mr. O"Blaney, a great account of you, and how you"re thriving in the world--and so as that.
_O"Bla._ n.o.body should know that better than Mr. Carver of Bob"s Fort--he knows all my affairs. He is an undeniable honest gentleman, for whom I profess the highest regard.