Scene: The farm kitchen of John Murray. It is large and spacious, with a wide open fire-place to the right. At the back is one door leading to the parlour and other rooms in the house, also a large window overlooking the yard outside. To the left of this window is the door leading into the yard, and near the door an old-fashioned grandfather's clock. Opposite to the fire-place on the left side is another door leading into Daniel Murray's workshop, and beside this door is a large dresser with crockery, &c. At the back beneath the window is a table near which Kate, the servant, a slatternly dressed girl of some thirty years of age or more, is seated. She is carefully examining some cakes of soda bread, and has a bucket beside her into which she throws the rejected pieces.

Kate. That one's stale. It would break your teeth to eat it. (She throws the cake into the bucket.) And the mice have nibbled that one. And there's another as bad. (She throws both pieces into the bucket.)

(Brown, the servant man, opens the door from yard and enters. He is elderly, and with a pessimistic expression of face, relieved somewhat by the sly humour that is in his eyes. He walks slowly to the centre of the kitchen, looks at Kate, and then turns his eyes, with a disgusted shake of the head, towards the dresser as if searching for something.)

Brown. Well! Well! Pigs get fat and men get lean in this house.

Kate. It's you again, is it? And what are you looking now?

Brown. I'm looking a spanner for the boss. The feedboard to the threshing machine got jammed just when halfway through the first stack, and he is in a lamentable temper.

Kate (uneasily). Is he? (She starts hurriedly to clear up the table.)

Brown (watching her slyly to see what effect his words have). And he's been grumbling all morning about the way things is going on in this house. Bread and things wasted and destroyed altogether.

Kate. Well, it's all Miss Mary's fault. I told her about this bread yesterday forenoon, and she never took any heed to me.

Brown. Miss Mary? (With a deprecatory shake of his head.) What does a slip of a girl like that know about housekeeping and her not home a half-year yet from the boarding-school in the big town, and with no mother nor nobody to train her. (He stares in a puzzled way at the dresser.) I don't see that spanner at all. Did you see it, Kate?

Kate. No. I've more to do than look for spanners.

Brown (gazing reproachfully at her and then shaking his head). It's a nice house, right enough. (Lowering his voice.) And I suppose old Mr. Dan is never up yet. I was told by Johnny McAndless, he was terribly full last night at McArn's publichouse and talking—ach—the greatest blethers about this new invention of his.

Kate. Do you say so?

Brown. Aye. No wonder he's taking a lie this morning. (He peeps into the door of the workshop.) He's not in his wee workshop?

Kate. No. Miss Mary is just after taking up his breakfast to him.

Brown. Some people get living easy in this world. (He gives a last look at the dresser.) Well divil a spanner can I see. I'll tell the master that. (He goes out again through the yard door, and as he does so, Mary Murray comes through the door from the inner rooms, carrying a tray with teacups, &c., on it. She is a pretty, vivacious girl about eighteen years of age.)

Mary. Who was that?

Kate. It's the servant man looking for a spanner for your father, Miss Mary. There's something gone wrong with the threshing machine.

Mary (taking the tray to the table and starting to get ready to wash up the cups). I do believe sometimes that Uncle Dan's a lazy man.

Kate (assisting her at the washing and stopping as if astonished at the statement). And is it only now you're after finding that out! Sure the whole countryside knowed it this years and years.

Mary (sharply). The whole countryside has no business to talk about what doesn't concern it.

Kate. Oh, well, people are bound to talk, Miss.

Mary. But then Uncle Dan is awfully clever. He's got the whole brains of the Murrays, so father says, and then, besides that, he is a grand talker.

Kate. Aye. He can talk plenty. Sure Sarah McMinn, that lives up the Cut, says its a shame the way he's going on this twenty years and more, never doing a hand's turn from morning to night, and she says she wonders your poor father stands him and his nonsense.

Mary. Who said that?

Kate. Sarah McMinn told Johnny McAndless that yesterday.

Mary. Sarah McMinn? Pooh! That hard, mean, old thing. No. I believe in Uncle Dan and so does father. He'll make a name for himself yet.

Kate. Well, it's getting near time he done it.

Mary. And that Sarah McMinn they say just keeps her brother in starvation, and she just says nasty things like that about Uncle Dan because he doesn't like her.

Kate. Aye. He never did like people as seen through him, not but she is a mean old skin-a-louse. (The voice of Daniel Murray is heard calling from within.) He's up, Miss.

Mary. Are you up, uncle?

(Dan Murray opens the door from the inner apartments and comes into the kitchen. He is carelessly dressed and sleepy-looking as if just out of bed, wears a muffler and glasses, and appears to be some fifty years of age.)

Daniel. Yes. Did the Whig come yet?

Mary. Yes. I put it in your workshop.

Daniel (glancing at the clock). Bless my heart, it's half-past one!

Mary (reproachfully). It is, indeed, uncle.

Daniel. Well! Well! Time goes round, Mary. Time goes round. (Kate picks up the bucket and goes out by the yard door.) Where's your father? (He crosses over to the workshop door.)

Mary. He's out working with Sam Brown at the threshing all morning since seven o'clock.

Daniel. Well! Well! A very industrious man is John Murray. Very. But lacking in brains, my dear—lacking in brains. Kind, good-hearted, easy-going, but—ah! well, one can't help these things. (He goes towards the workshop.) Where did you say the Whig was, Mary?

Mary. It's in your workshop. (He crosses over to go there.)

Mary. You were very late coming in last night, uncle.

Daniel. Eh? (He goes in, gets the paper, comes out again.)

Mary. I heard you coming in, and the clock was just after striking two. (He sits down and opens paper.)

Daniel. Well—I met a few friends last night. Appreciative friends I could talk to, and I was explaining that new idea of mine that I've been working at so long—that new idea for a fan-bellows. It's a great thing. Oh yes. It should be. I sat up quite a while last night, thinking it over, and I believe I've got more ideas about it—better ones.

Mary. Do you think you'll make money off it, uncle?

Daniel. Mary—if it comes off—if I can get someone to take it up, I believe 'twill make our fortune, I do.

Mary. Oh, uncle, it would be lovely if you did, and I would just die to see that nasty McMinn woman's face when she hears about you making such a hit.

Daniel. McMinn? Has that woman been sneering about me again? That's one woman, Mary, I can't stand. I can never do myself justice explaining ideas in company when that woman is present.

Mary. Never mind her, uncle. (Coming close beside him.) Do you mind the time last time, uncle, when you went up to Belfast for a week to see about that patent for—what's this the patent was, uncle?

Daniel (uncomfortably). Last time? Aye? Why?

Mary. Yes. Don't you remember you said you knew of an awfully nice boy that you met, and you were going to bring him down here.

Daniel. Upon my soul, I had clean forgotten. Yes, yes. I think I did say something about a young fellow I met.

Mary. Was he nice, uncle?

Daniel (becoming absorbed in the newspaper). Eh? I think so. Oh. He was—very nice chap.

Mary. Well, you said he was coming here to see me, and he never turned up yet.

Daniel. Did I? Very possibly. I suppose he must have forgotten.

Mary (walking away to the left and then back again pouting). I'm sick of the boys here. There's only Alick McCready that's anyway passable. When will you see him again, uncle?

Daniel. Well—possibly, when I go up to town again. Very soon, perhaps. That is if your father, Mary, can spare the money.

Mary (thoughtfully). I don't know, uncle. You see that would be five times now, and somehow you never seem to get anything done. That's what he said, mind you, uncle.

Daniel (mournfully). Well! Well! To think of me toiling and moiling away in that workshop of mine, day after day, and week after week, and year after year—and there's all the thanks you get for it.

Mary. Uncle?

Daniel (somewhat irritably as he gets engrossed reading). Well?

Mary. Look, if you went up to Belfast again soon, won't you see that boy? I wonder what he's like. (She gets close beside her uncle and nestles beside him.) Is he dark or fair?

Daniel. Yes, yes. I think so.

Mary. Dark?

Daniel. Yes. I believe he is dark.

Mary. And tall?

Daniel (trying vainly to read in spite of the interruptions). Very tall.

Mary. Oh, how nice! And uncle, is he good-looking?

Daniel. Very. Fine looking fellow.

Mary. That's grand; and uncle, is he well to do?

Daniel. He has every appearance of it.

Mary. Oh you dear old uncle! (She nestles closer to him.) But maybe he wouldn't look at me when he has a whole lot of town girls to go with.

Daniel. My dear niece, you don't know what a very good-looking young lady you are, and besides he saw your photograph.

Mary. Which photograph?

Daniel (perplexed). Which photograph? Your own of course!

Mary. The one I got taken at Lurgan?

Daniel. Yes. I think so.

Mary. Oh uncle! That horrid thing! Why didn't you show him the one I got taken at Newcastle?

Daniel. My mistake. Very sorry, indeed, Mary, I assure you. But I tell you what, I'll take the album with me next time. Will that do?

Mary (laughing). There. Now you're only joking. (Suddenly.) What do you do all the time you stay in Belfast, uncle?

Daniel (uneasily). Um—um——Business, my dear girl, business. See engineers and all that sort of thing, and talk things over. It takes time, you know, Mary, time.

Mary. You've been an awful long time inventing, uncle, haven't you?

Daniel. Well, you know, Mary dear—time—it takes time. You can't rush an inventor.

Mary. Well look, uncle. You know I can just wheedle father round my wee finger, can't I?

Daniel. You can indeed.

Mary. Well, look: if you promise to bring down this boy you are talking about, I'll get father to give you enough to have two weeks in Belfast. There. It's a bargain.

Daniel. Um—well—he may not be there you know.

Mary (disappointed). O uncle!

Daniel. You see he travels a lot and he may be away. He may be in London. In fact I think—yes. He said he would be going to London.

Mary. Then why not go to London?

Daniel (starting up and speaking as if struck with delight at the possibility). Eh? I never thought of that! (He collapses again.) But no. Your father, Mary. He would never give me the money. No.

Mary. But you're more likely to meet people there who'd take it up, aren't you, uncle?

Daniel. It's the place for an inventor to go, Mary. The place. (Pauses.) But I'm afraid when John hears about it——(he becomes very dubious and shakes his head).

Mary. Well, look here, uncle. Do you mind the last time when he would not give you money to go up to Belfast about your patent.

Daniel (sadly). I do.

Mary. You remember you got a letter a few days after asking you to come up at once and you had to go then. Hadn't you?

Daniel. I had.

Mary. Well, couldn't we do the same this time?

Daniel (looking at her uneasily). Eh?

Mary. Couldn't we get someone to send a letter. (Pausing and thinking, then suddenly). Oh, the very thing! You know that silly Alick McCready that comes running after me. Well, look, I'll get him to send a letter.

Daniel. No good, my dear. I did it before——I mean letters on plain notepaper don't carry much weight. No.

Mary. What about——oh, I know! Uncle, a telegram!

Daniel. Great idea! It is in soul!

Mary. And we'll put something on it like "come to London at once to see about the patent," or something like that. And he'd have to let you go then.

Daniel. Mary, you're really a cleverer girl than your father thinks. (Musingly.) Two weeks in London.

Mary. And don't forget the nice boy, uncle, when you go.

Daniel. I'll do my best to get hold of him.

Mary. No. I want a good definite promise. Promise, uncle.

Daniel. Well, really you know, my dear, he——

Mary. Uncle, promise.

Daniel. Um——well, I promise.

Mary. You're a dear old thing. You see, uncle, I don't want to marry Alick McCready or Jim McDowell or any of those boys, unless there's nobody else.

Daniel. Quite right, my dear, quite right. Two weeks in London. Splendid! But it's time I was going into my workshop. (He rises and takes the paper with him.) I must really try and do something this morning. (Exit by workshop door.)

Mary (calling after him). You won't forget, uncle? Will you?

Daniel. No, certainly not.

Mary. I do hope uncle brings that nice boy. Dark—tall—well set up—well to do.

(Kate comes in again through the yard door, and looks at Mary, who is gazing vacantly into space.)

Kate. Well? What notion have you got now?

Mary. Oh! just think, Kate! How would you like a boy who was dark and tall, and well set up and well to do?

Kate. I'd just leap at him.

Mary (laughing). Agh! I don't think he'll ever come, Kate!

Kate. I think you've plenty on hand to manage. (Brown opens the yard door and resumes his old-position from which he stares at the dresser). You're back again, are you?

Brown. Aye.

Kate. What ails you now?

Brown. I'm looking the spanner.

Mary. The spanner?

Brown. The spanner, Miss Mary. It's for turning the nuts like.

Kate. Have you never got it yet?

Brown. Do you think I've got eyes in the back of my head? Underneath the seat, beside the salt-box, on the right near the wee crock in the left hand corner. (He makes a movement to open one of the drawers of the dresser.)

Kate. Will you get out of that, ignorance. It's not there.

Brown (with an appealing look at Mary). Maybe its in the parlour?

Mary. Well, I'll take a look round. (She goes through the door to living rooms.)

Brown (mysteriously). Did you hear the news?

Kate. No. (Very much interested.) What?

Brown. Ach! You women never know anything.

Kate. What's the news? Somebody killed?

Brown. No. More serious.

Kate (alarmed). God bless me! What is it?

Brown. Andy McMinn has a sister.

Kate (disappointed). Ach!

Brown. And she's trying to get a man.

Kate. Well. I knowed that this years.

Brown. And Mr. John Murray is a widow man.

Kate. You mean to be telling me that Mr. John has a notion of that old thing? Go long with you!

Brown. Did you ever hear tell of a widow man that never got married again.

Kate. Plenty. Don't come in here talking blethers.

Brown. Whist. There's more in what I'm telling you than you think. And I'll hold you to a shilling that Sarah McMinn will be Mrs. John Murray before one month.

Kate. Who told you?

Brown. Ach. You've no more head than a yellow yorling. Where has Mr. John been going to these wheen of nights?

Kate (thinking). Andy McMinns!

Brown. Aye. Do you think it is to see old Andy? And sure he's been talking to me all morning about the way the house is being kept. No hand to save the waste; bread and things destroyed; hens laying away; eggs ate up by the dozen and chickens lost and one thing and another. And hinting about what money a good saving woman would bring him. And Mr. Daniel——

Kate. Sh——he's in there working.

Brown. Working? Ah, God save us! Him working! The last man that seen Mr. Dan working is in his grave this twenty years. (He goes over next workshop door.) I'll just peep in at him through the keyhole. (He goes over and does so, and then beckons Kate over. She peeps in and grins. As they are thus occupied Alick McCready opens the door and stands gazing at them. He is a type of the young well-to-do farmer, respectably dressed and good-looking.)

Alick. Well! Well! Some people earn their money easy!

Brown. Aye. In soul. Just look in there to see it. (McCready looks in and bursts into a loud hearty laugh. Brown hurriedly goes out by the yard door and Kate by door to inner rooms.)

Daniel (opening door and standing there, perplexed looking). What's the matter?

Alick. Ah. I was just laughing at a wee joke, Mr. Murray.

Daniel. It must have been very funny.

Alick. Aye. It was. (Coming close to Daniel, who walks slowly to the middle of the kitchen.) I say. Were you at McArn's publichouse last night?

Daniel (looking round cautiously to see that no one else can hear him). Well, just a minute or two. Why?

Alick. There was someone there told Andy McMinn this morning, I believe, that you'd been talking of a great invention altogether, and he was that much curious to see it that him and his sister Sarah are coming over this day to have a look at it.

Daniel. Who? Sarah McMinn?

Alick. Aye. She's very anxious to see it, I believe.

Daniel. Um. Rather awkward this. She's not a woman that, plainly speaking, I care very much to talk about my ideas to.

Alick. But have you got something struck out?

Daniel. McCready, come here. (Alick goes closer to him.) It is really a great idea. Splendid. But I've a great deal of trouble over it. In fact I've been thinking out details of a particular gear all morning.

Alick. Aye. (He looks at Daniel and then endeavours to restrain unsuccessfully a burst of laughter.)

Daniel (angrily). You were always an ignorant hound anyway and be d——d to you. (He turns to go towards his workshop.)

Alick. Ah, Mr. Murray, I beg your pardon. It's another thing altogether I'm thinking about. I just wanted a talk with you this morning. You have a nice wee girl for a niece, Mr. Murray.

Daniel (somewhat mollified). Well?

Alick (bashfully). And I was wondering if you could put in a good word for me now and again with her.

Daniel. Now, look here, Alick. We can all work nice and comfortably together, can't we?

Alick. Aye.

Daniel. Well, if you behave yourself like a man with some manners, and not like an ignorant clodhopper, I can do a great deal for you.

Alick. Thank you, sir. You know, Mr. Murray, I have as nice a wee farm, and as good stock on it as well, as any man in the county, and if I'm lucky enough to get that niece of yours, you'll always be welcome to come and pass a day or two and have a chat.

Daniel. I think you and I will get along all right, Alick. There's one or two little things I need badly sometimes in this house. I mean I want help often, you know, Alick, to carry my points with John; points about going to see people and that sort of thing, and it's really very hard to manage John on points like that, unless we resort to certain means to convince him they are absolutely necessary.

Alick (uneasily). Yes. I sort of follow you.

Daniel. You know what I mean. John's a little dense, you know. He can't see the point of an argument very well unless you sort of knock him down with it. Now, if a thing is fair and reasonable, and a man is so dense that he can't see it, you are quite justified—at least, I take it so—to manufacture a way—it doesn't matter how—so long as you make that dense man accept the thing, whatever it is, as right. Do you follow me?

Alick. I'm just beginning to see a kind of way.

Mary (appearing at door from inner rooms). I can't see that thing anywhere. (She suddenly sees Alick.) Oh Alick! You here!

Alick. Yes. It's a nice morning, and you're looking beautiful!

Mary. Oh, bother. (She seems to suddenly recollect something.) Oh, I say! uncle! You remember? Uncle!

Daniel (somewhat perplexed). Eh?

Mary (motioning towards Alick). Telegram to come to London.

Daniel. Ah——Oh, yes, yes.

Mary. Let's go into your workshop and tell Alick what we want. Come on.

Alick. I'll do anything in the world you want.

(They all go into the workshop. As they disappear, John Murray, sweating and angry looking, comes through from the yard followed by Brown. John is a tall, stout man, with a rather dour countenance and somewhat stolid expression. He is a year or so the elder of Dan in age. He goes to the dresser, puts his hand on the top shelf, takes down a spanner and throws it down angrily on the table.)

John. There. There you are, you stupid-looking, good for nothing, dunder-headed, Italian idiot you.

Brown. You're something terrible cross this morning.

John. (heatedly). Is it any wonder? Away out at once now and put her to rights and quick about it. (Brown meekly goes out.) The like of servant men nowadays, I never seen in my mortal days. A concern of ignorant bauchles, every one of them.

Daniel (opening door of workshop and peeping out. He sees John and goes over to him with a genial air). Good morning John.

John (snappishly). Morning.

Daniel. John, what do you think, I believe I have just come on to a great idea about——

John. Ach! You and your great ideas! Here you've been blundering and blethering and talking these fifteen years and more, and I've never seen anything come of them yet.

Daniel (soothingly). I know, John, I know. But I'm handicapped you know. Bad place to work in and all the rest of it: but you've been kind to me, John. Keeping a brother and helping him after he has lost all his money isn't a common thing with many men, but John a day will come sometime, and you'll get it all back. (Impressively). Every penny. Aye, and twice over.

John (softening). Thank you, Daniel.

Daniel. You will, John, you will. But don't cast up things like that about the time I've been. It hurts me. A thing like this takes time to mature, you know, John. The great and chief thing for an inventor is time. Look at Palissy, the great French potter, who found out how to make porcelain glaze. Why he worked for years and years at his invention. And there was the man who found out how to make steam drive engines. Look at the years those men spent—and no one begrudged them.

John. I suppose that now.

Daniel. Certainly, John, nothing surer. And look at the fortunes those men made. But the great difficulty is trying to get someone to take up your patent. You see these men had the eyes of the world fixed on them. People knew all about them, and had their hands stretched out ready to grab what they invented. (Pathetically). I——I'm just a poor unknown man struggling in a wee dark corner.

John (touched). Never mind, Danny. You'll make the name of the Murray's known yet, maybe.

Daniel. I'll do my best, John. But mind you it would take me to be pushing on this thing that I have found out and bringing it before people to notice. You see I've got it all ready now except for a few small details.

John (much interested). Have you now? I would like you sometime to explain it to me, Daniel. I didn't quite get on to it the last time you were telling me about it.

Daniel. Some time again. Oh yes. But John—I'll have to go to some of the towns soon to see people about it. The bigger the town the better the chance, and John (impressively)—London's the place.

John (aghast). London! In all the name of the world, yon place! Would Belfast not do you?

Daniel. No. I don't like Belfast. They're a mangy, stick-in-the-mud, follow-in-the-old-ruts crowd. Never strike out anything new. It's a case of London or nothing.

John (dubiously). It will be a terrible expense this London visiting.

Daniel. It'll be worth it.

John. Now, Danny, I would like to oblige you, but what do you think it would cost me?

Daniel. Well, I could live cheap you know, John, and do without meals an odd day, and go steerage and third class, and that sort of thing. I would say about fifteen pounds roughly. That would let me stay more than a week.

John. Fifteen pounds! God bless me, Daniel, would you break me? No, no, I couldn't afford to give you that much.

Daniel. Maybe ten would do it. I could sleep out under the arches an odd night or two, and——

John. No, no. I'll not have that. A Murray aye had a bed to go to and a sup to eat. (After a contemplative pause.) Here, I'll give you three pounds and you can go to Belfast.

Daniel. I don't care much about Belfast. You know I have been there five times now, and I have never got anyone to look into the thing at all proper.

John. You're too backward, Daniel, when it comes to the like of that. But ten pounds! No, I would like you to get on in the world right enough, Daniel, but I couldn't afford it. You know the way this house is being kept; it's lamentable. Tea and sugar and flour and things. Man, I'm just after paying off ten pounds to the McAfees for one thing and another, and it only a running account for two months. If I had a good housekeeper now, maybe things would alter for the better.

Mary (coming out from the workshop followed by Alick). O Uncle Dan! He says he'll go at once and get it——(She stops short in confusion on seeing her father.)

Alick. How are you, Mr. Murray?

John. O! bravely. What's the news with you?

Alick. I was just looking over some of them ideas of Daniel's, about the new fan bellows.

John. Aye. Now what do you think of it?

Alick (warned by Daniel who nudges him). They're great altogether.

John. Do you think there will be any sale for it at all?

Alick. I think so. (He perceives Daniel motioning assent.) I believe there would be indeed.

John. Man, I wish I had the head of some of you young fellows to understand the working of them machinery and things. (Daniel goes back into the workshop.) I've the worst head in the world for understanding about them sort of things. There's Daniel, a great head on him, Daniel.

Alick (slyly). He has, right enough!

John (proudly). One of the best. When he was a wee fellow, dang the one could beat him at making boats or drawing pictures, or explaining extraordinary things to you. None. Not one. A great head on him, Daniel. He'll do something yet.

Alick. Did you know Andy McMinn's for coming over to see you this day, Mr. Murray?

John (eagerly). This day? When? Are you sure?

Alick. Aye, so he said. About two o'clock or so. Someone told him about Daniel's great new idea, and he's very curious to hear about it.

Mary. He's always poking his nose into people's business.

John. Whist. Andy McMinn's a very decent man. Tell me (rather bashfully), was Sarah to come with him?

Mary (alarmed). O holy prophets! I hope not.

Alick. Aye. She's coming too. She wanted to see it as well as Andy.

John. Aye. Certainly, and she's welcome too. Mary, you can get the house ready, and the table set, and a nice tea for them when they come, and I can go and get tidied up a wee bit. (He goes off through door into inner rooms.)

Alick (leaning against the table and looking across at Mary, who is sitting at the opposite end.) You're as nice a wee girl as ever I——

Mary. You're an awful fool. Hurry, Alick, like a decent man and get that telegram sent.

Alick. That uncle of yours, Mary, heth he's as canny a keoghboy as I've seen. Its the queer tears he'll be taking to himself in London if I know anything.

Mary. Hold your tongue. You've no business to talk about Uncle Dan that way. He could give you tons as far as brains go anyway.

Alick. I believe that. (He goes to yard door, then turns back.) I say, Mary. What name will I put on that telegram? "Come to London at once about patent. Intend purchasing." Hadn't we better have a name?

Mary. Yes. I'll just ask uncle. (She knocks at door of workshop.) Uncle!

Daniel (without). Yes.

Mary. What name will we put to that telegram?

Daniel (without). Oh, it's not particular. Wilson or Smith, or Brown, or Gregg.

Alick. I'll put Gregg on it.

Daniel. Do well.

Alick. Did you see the fluster that your father got into, Mary, when he heard that Sarah McMinn was coming over?

Mary (alarmed). What?

Alick.. Did you not see how he rushed off to tidy himself up when he heard Sarah McMinn was coming over?

Mary (seating herself on chair to right of table). Nonsense. Father wouldn't think of that woman.

Alick. All right. But I think I know something more than you.

Mary (anxiously). What? Tell me.

Alick. Come on and leave me down the loaning a pace, and I'll tell you.

Mary (glancing at him, and then coquettishly turning her back to him as he leans against the table). Oh, I can't. Those people are coming over, and that McMinn woman will be looking at everything and telling you how to do things in front of father, and all the rest of it.

Alick (entreatingly). Leave me down the loaning a pace till I tell you the news.

Mary (teasingly). No.

Alick. Come on.

Mary. No. (Alick moves sadly towards the door. Mary looks round, and then laughingly skips past him out through the yard door, and he follows her.)

John (coming through door from inner rooms partly dressed, with a towel in his hands, evidently making much preparation to clean himself). Daniel! (Loudly and crossly.) Daniel!

Daniel (peeping out from workshop door). Well!

John. Tidy yourself up a wee bit, man, Andy McMinn and Sarah's coming over to see you.

Daniel (somewhat taken back). Me?

John. Aye. They want to see about the new invention. You can have the collar I wore last Sunday, and put on your new coat that you got in Belfast. (Daniel goes back into the workshop.) I wonder what tie would be the better one? Yon green or the red one that Mary gave me last Christmas. Aye. (Seeing no sign of Daniel.) D——n! Is he making no shapes to dress himself. Daniel!

Daniel (without). Aye.

John (loudly). Daniel!

Daniel (again appearing at door). Well!

John (impatiently). Come on and get on you.

Daniel. Ach. This is always the way. Just when a man has got the whole thing worked out and the plans of the apparatus just on the point of completion he has to stop.

John. Never mind, Danny. You can do it again the night or the morrow morning. I want you to look decent. Come on and get on you.

Daniel (beginning to regard his brother with a sudden interest and suspicion). Who did you say was coming?

John (at door to rooms). Andy and Sarah McMinn. (He goes out.)

Daniel (suddenly realising the import of the preparations going on.) McMinn. Mc——. (He stops short, and then in a horrified voice.) Surely to God he hasn't a notion of that woman? (Calling tremulously.) John! John!

John (at door). Hurry up, man.

Daniel (appealingly). John. Tell me, John. You haven't——you're not going to——you haven't a notion of that woman?

John (hesitatingly). Well, Daniel, you see the house needs some one to look after it proper, and I thought——well—maybe—that Sarah would be just as nice and saving a woman as I could get, but I thought I would keep it a bit secret, don't you know, because I don't know yet if she'd have me or not. And she could talk to you better nor I could about machinery and things that would interest you, for she has an agency for sewing machines, and knows something about that sort of thing, and you'd get on great with each other. Now, hurry and get on you. (He goes out by door into rooms.)

Daniel (looking after him in a helpless manner, and sinking into a chair). If—if she'd have him! O great God! If that woman comes to this house, I—I'm a ruined man.

(Curtain.)