Mother:  And more than that again, he said you had it buried secretly, and had it personated, creeping around the haggard in the half dark and you barking, the way the neighbours would think it to be living yet and as wicked as it was before.

Rock:  (To Flannery.) I’ll bring you into the Courts for telling lies!

Mother:  (Coming near Rock and speaking into his ear.) And there’s another thing I know, and that I made a promise to her that was your wife not to tell, but death has that promise broke.

Rock:  Stop, can’t you!

Mother:  I know by sure witness that it was you found the forty pound he (points to Flannery, who nods) lost on the road, and kept it for your own profit.  Bring me now, I dare you, into the Courts!

Rock:  (Fearfully.) That one would remember the world!  It is as if she went to the grinding young!

(Conan’s voice heard.  Singing:  “Let me be merry” in a melancholy voice.)

  “If sadly thinking with spirits sinking
  Could more than drinking my cares compose,
  A cure for to-morrow from sighs I’d borrow,
  And hope to-morrow would end my woes.

  But as in wailing there’s nought availing,
  And Death unfailing will strike the blow,
  Then for that reason and for a season,
  Let us be merry before we go!”

Mother:  It is Conan will near lose his wits with joy when he knows what is come back to me!

Conan:  (Peeping in.) Is Celia gone?

Flannery:  She is, Conan.

Conan:  It’s a queer thing with women.  If you’ll turn them from one road it’s likely they’ll go into another that is worse again.

Rock:  That is so indeed.  There is Celia’s mother that is running telling lies, and leaving a heavy word upon a neighbour.

Mother:  I’ll give my promise not to tell it out in Court if he will give to poor Michael Flannery what is due to him, and that is the whole of what he has in his bag!

Conan:  (Laughing scornfully.) Sure she has no memory at all.  It fails her to remember that two and two makes four.

Mother:  You think that?  Well, listen now to me.  Two and two is it?  No, nine times two that is eighteen and nine times three twenty-seven, nine times four thirty-six, nine times five forty-five, nine times six fifty-four, nine times seven sixty-three, nine times eight seventy-two, nine times nine eighty-one....  Yes, and eleven times, and any times that you will put before me!

Conan:  That’s enough, that’s enough!

Mother:  Ha, ha!  You giving out that I can keep no knowledge in mind and no learning, when I should sit on the chapel roof to have enough of slates for all I can cast up of sums!  Multiplication, Addition, subtraction, and the rule of three!

Conan:  Whist your tongue!