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diff --git a/31044-h/31044-h.htm b/31044-h/31044-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..60760b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/31044-h/31044-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3927 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Turn of the Road, by Rutherford Mayne. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: 0.6em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + } + + h1,h2,h3,h4 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + max-width: 36em; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .pchar { + margin-top: 1.5em; + text-align: center; + font-variant: small-caps; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; + } + + .charsquot {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%;} + .blockquot {margin-left: 45%; margin-right: 0%; font-size: 0.8em;} + .centerquot {text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .rightquot {text-align: right; font-size: 0.8em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Turn of the Road, by Rutherford Mayne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Turn of the Road + A Play in Two Scenes and an Epilogue + +Author: Rutherford Mayne + +Release Date: January 23, 2010 [EBook #31044] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TURN OF THE ROAD *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1> +<i>THE TURN OF THE ROAD.<br /> +A PLAY IN TWO SCENES<br /> +AND AN EPILOGUE. BY<br /> +RUTHERFORD MAYNE.</i><br /><br /><br /> + +<i>MAUNSEL & CO., Limited,<br /> +DUBLIN. 1907.</i> +</h1> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><b><i>This play was produced in Belfast, December 1906, +by the Ulster Literary Theatre. (All acting +rights reserved by the Author.)</i></b></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4><i>To LEWIS PURCELL</i></h4> + +<h4><i>In remembrance of his kindly aid and criticism.</i></h4> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHARACTERS:</h3> + +<div class="charsquot"> +<p>WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN, a farmer.<br /> +MRS. GRANAHAN, his wife.<br /> +SAMUEL JAMES, } their sons.<br /> +ROBBIE JOHN, }<br /> +ELLEN, their daughter.<br /> +THOMAS GRANAHAN, father of Wm. John Granahan.<br /> +JOHN GRAEME, a farmer.<br /> +JANE, his daughter.<br /> +MR. TAYLOR, a Creamery Manager.<br /> +A TRAMP FIDDLER.<br /></p> + +<p><span style='margin-left:4em; display:block;'><small><span class="smcap">The Scene</span> throughout is laid in the Kitchen of William John +Granahan's house in the County of Down.</small></span></p> + +<p><span style='margin-left:4em;'><small><span class="smcap">Time.</span>—The Present Day.</small></span></p> + +<p><span style='margin-left:4em;'><small>A month elapses between Scenes I. and II.</small></span></p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE TURN OF THE ROAD.</h2> + +<h2>SCENE I.</h2> + + +<p><small>A farm kitchen of the present day. Door at back, opening to yard, and +window with deal table on which are lying dishes and drying cloths +with basin of water. A large crock under table. A dresser with +crockery, etc., stands near to another door which opens into living +rooms. Opposite there is a fireplace with projecting breasts, in which +a turf fire is glowing. Time, about eight of a summer evening in July. +Mrs. Granahan and Ellen are engaged at table washing and drying the +plates after the supper. Thomas Granahan, the grandfather, is seated +at fire place and has evidently just finished his stirabout. The +strains of a quaint folk-air played on a violin, sound faintly from +the inner room.</small></p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Is that the whole of them now Ellen?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Yes that's all now but one.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">She goes across to grandfather and lifts the plate.</div> + +<p>Have you finished granda?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Yes dearie I have done.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">He pauses and fumbles for his pipe, &c.</div> + +<p>Is'nt that a fiddle I'm hearing?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Yes. Robbie's playing the fiddle in the low room.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Arranging plates on dresser and turning round.</div> + +<p>I wish some one would stop that boy's fool nonsense wi' his fiddle. He's +far too fond o' playin'. It would stand him better to mind his work.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Calls.</div> + +<p>Robbie!</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Louder.</div> + +<p>D'you hear me Robbie?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Oh, let the boy be, mother. Its the first time I've heard him at it this +week.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Och aye. Let the boy enjoy himself. You're only young wanst you know, Mary.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>I think it must be a great thing to be a great musician. Sometimes I +believe Robbie should try his luck with that fiddle of his. Somehow I +know—I feel he <i>is</i> a genius at it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>What notions you do have to be sure. To think of a big grown man like +Robbie John spending his life-time at an old fiddle.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Sharply.</div> + +<p>Blathers and nonsense. Its time that boy was out lookin' at the cattle.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Calls.</div> + +<p>Are you there Robbie?</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Louder.</div> + +<p>Robbie John.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>From without. The fiddle ceases suddenly and he comes and stands with it in +his hand at the door.</p></div> + +<p>Aye.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>You'd better go down to the low field and see the cattle haven't broken +through into Aura Boyd's corn. You couldn't keep them beasts in when the +flies gets at them.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Just one second till I try this again.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Now, will you go when I tell you. You and your ould fiddle. It'll be the +death of you yet. Mind what I say.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Coming through door and standing there.</div> + +<p>Bad cess to the cattle and Aura Boyd.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>He's a tarr'ble unneighbourly man.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>He's a cross grained man right enough, but it wouldn't do to have the +cattle trampin' and eatin' his corn.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>I was down there only ten minutes ago when you sent me, and they were +eatin' there quite peaceable.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Now will you go Robbie John when your mother wants you. Aura Boyd sent over +here this forenoon to say if that Kerry cow broke into his field again he'd +have the law agin us.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Och, he's a cross ould cratur. Sure, she had only one foot through the +hedge when he turned her.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">He sees mother is getting impatient.</div> + +<p>All right; I'm away.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He goes back into room, leaves fiddle there, comes into kitchen again and +goes out by door to yard.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>He's as ill to drive as the ould mare to meetin' a Sundays.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">She goes and looks through door into room.</div> + +<p>Look at the time it is and your father and Samuel James niver back yet +Ellen. They're terrible late o' comin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Och, I suppose they've met some dealer at the fair and are driving a hard +bargain as usual.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>I wonner if they got that foal red off their hands yet. It'll be a job I'm +thinkin'. He was a miserable baste, and tarr'ble broken in the wind.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Och, trust father to make that all right. I heard Mr. Taylor, of the +creamery, say that father could sell you skim milk for cream, better than +any man he knew.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Seating herself at chair beside table at back.</div> + +<p>Oh, aye. It's easy for <i>him</i> to talk, but money's hard o' makin', and if +people's soft it's their own fault. Only I hope they've no' taken any drink.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>It's no fault in a good man if he does take a half-un.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Now, don't you be startin' to talk that way. It's always the way with them +dailers. Muddle the good man's head with whiskey, and then <i>do</i> him.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Standing nonchalantly at table facing front with hands resting on it.</p></div> + +<p>They'll not muddle father much I'm thinkin'. Besides, Samuel James is with +him.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Samuel James is a cunnin' rascal.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Don't you miscall my son Mr. Granahan. He's a canny good son and works +hard, and is worth more than half-a-dozen men like Robbie John. They'll no +put their finger in his eye.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Goes to door back.</div> + +<p>Bliss my heart there's that sow among the kale. Shoo!</p> + +<div class="rightquot">She goes out and is heard shouting.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Laughing.</div> + +<p>That poor sow. It has the times of it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Robbie John enters and sits down near grandfather.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Well, son; what about the cattle?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Weariedly.</div> + +<p>Och, they're all right. I knowed they'd be all right. It's always the way.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Soothingly.</div> + +<p>They are a terrible newsance, indeed, Robbie.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>But that's not what troubles me. Why can't mother leave me alone for just a +few minutes till I get some time to myself at the fiddle. I niver touch it +but I'm taken away and sent off somewhere.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Seating herself at chair beside Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Don't be cross with her Robbie, dear. She's anxious about the cattle.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>But, Ellen, look here. Any time I can get to have just a tune on that +fiddle, someone's sure to take me away from it. Father sends me out to mend +gaps that were mended, or cut turf that was cut, or fodder horses that were +foddered. And when he's away and I might have some chance, mother does the +same. Here I've been workin' for the past week, day in and day out, and the +very first chance I get, I must run after the cattle or somethin'.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Despondently,</div> + +<p>Nobody has any feelin' for me here at all.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Now, now; Robbie. It's all for your own good, son, she does it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>And we feel for him, don't we Grand-da? You mustn't look so cross, Robbie. +You know that they think you're too much wrapped up in that fiddle of +yours, and they want to break you off it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Determinedly.</div> + +<p>That they never will; never.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Coaxingly.</div> + +<p>Oh! look grandfather at the cross Robbie.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Gazing amusedly at Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Indeed, Robbie, you look like them prize fightin' men ye see up in the +town.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Well, there; is that any better.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">He smiles half bitterly.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>A wee bit. I wish Jennie Graeme seen you with that face. You wouldn't get +your arm round her so easy then; would he Grand-da?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>A bonny wee girl she is, and has a fine farm and land comin' till her.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Aside.</div> + +<p>Boys a dear but these musicians gets the fine weemin.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>There, there; and creamery managers sometimes gets them too, Grand-da.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Indeed, that Taylor man will get a body can cook sowans anyway.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Looking through window.</div> + +<p>Here's mother.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Enters and sits down exhausted on chair at side of table next door.</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>That sows a torment. I just had her out and back she doubles again. +She just has me fair out of wind turnin' her out.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Rising and making toward door into room.</div> + +<p>I can go and have some practisin' now.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Robbie John, I seen the carts comin' up the loanin'. Your father will +be in, in no time. He'll no be pleased to see you han'lin' that,</p> + +<div class="rightquot">pointing to the fiddle.</div> + +<p>just when he comes back.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Starts up as if suddenly reminded.</div> + +<p>I must go and get them eggs counted.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Goes out again through door to yard.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Aye, Robbie; don't take it. He'll just think you've been playin' that +all the time he was away. And he's always that cross after markets, +you couldn't stand him.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Sitting down again.</div> + +<p>You're right. I don't want another talkin' to like the last one; but +its hard.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He takes up a stick from fuel beside fireplace +and starts whittling it. The rattle of carts is heard. Samuel James +passes the window and walks in. He is partially intoxicated, enough only to +make him talkative.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Well, how did the fair go off?</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Samuel James takes off his overcoat, +flings it on back of chair beside dresser and sits down heavily.</p></div> + +<p>Ah! you've been takin' a drop, as usual.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Scowls at this but does not deny.</div> + +<p>The fair. Oh, it was great value. Sure grand-da he sould +the foal for thirty poun'.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Astonished</div> + +<p>Boys a dear but William John Granahan bates the divil. And who took her?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>There was a cavalryman bought her. Boys but Da is the hard man to plaze. We +stopped at Muc Alanan's on the way home and met William John McKillop +there, and he toul' the oul' man he was a fool to let a good horse go at +that price, for he was lookin' all roads to give him thirty poun' for it; +only he couldn't get in time for the sale.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Incredulously.</div> + +<p>Who did you say? McKillop?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Laughing.</div> + +<p>Aye.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Smiling.</div> + +<p>Sure McKillop hasn't two sov'rins in the wide world. He was only takin' a +rise out of Da.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Sure I knowed the ould Yahoo hadn't the price of a nanny-goat. But of +course, Da tuk it all in for gospel. And me sittin' listenin to him tellin' +ould McKillop what a grand action the foal had and the shoulders the baste +had, and the way it could draw thirty hundred up Killainey hill without a +pech.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Astonished.</div> + +<p>William John Granahan makes a tarr'ble fine Sunday School teacher.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Grinning.</div> + +<p>But to see ould McKillop sittin' there as solemn as a judge, drinkin' it +all in as if gospel and winkin' at me on the sly, the ould rascal, and +cursin' his luck at losin' such a bargain.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The voice of William John Granahan can be heard inviting some one to come +on. The strains of a fiddle played by uncertain but unmistakeably +professional hands, sounds from the same direction.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Looking out through window into yard.</div> + +<p>Who's that father has got with him Samuel James? Oh such a dirty looking +man!</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Chuckling.</div> + +<p>Da got ahoult of him at Buckna cross roads and right or wrong he'd have him +home wi' him to show Robbie John what fiddlin' brings a man till.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Severely.</div> + +<p>Its my mind that you and father have been stayin' too long in the public +house, Samuel James.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>William John Granahan and tramp fiddler can be seen outside window.</p></div> + +<p>Look at them—comin' in! oh my; wait till mother sees the pair of +them.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>William John Granahan comes in leading a ragged looking bearded tramp with +an old fiddle tucked under his arm.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Now we're hame, and we'll get a drop to drink and a bite to eat, Mr. +Fiddler.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He goes over to fireplace and stands with his back to the fire.</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>Take a sate at the fire and warm yourself.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>No one offers a seat to the tramp who stands puzzled looking and swaying in +a drunken manner in the kitchen, slightly in front of Samuel James, who +remains seated beside dresser engaged in taking off his leggings.</p></div> + +<p>Ellen. Get us a drop o' tay and give this poor misguided cratur somethin' +to eat.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Moves over to dresser and then stands at door into room. She evidently +disapproves of the tramp and does not offer to obey. The grandfather rises +in disgust and moves his chair nearer the fireplace away from the tramp.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">Tramp.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">To Ellen.</div> + +<p>Your pardon noble lady, I intrude. Your pardon signor I incommode you. +Times change and so do men. Ladies and gentlemen behold in me the one time +famous leader of the Blue Bohemian Wind and String Band that had the honour +of appearing before all the crowned heads of Europe.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>God bless me, d'you say so mister? D'ye hear that Robbie John. There's a +fiddler for you and see what comes of it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Tramp.</div> + +<p>Perhaps with your permission I may venture to play you a few extracts from +my repertoire. I can play to suit all tastes from a simple country ballad +to a concerto by Brahms or the great Russian composer Tschaikouski.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Openmouthed.</div> + +<p>Them Rooshians has the tarr'ble names!</p> + +<div class="pchar">Tramp.</div> + +<p>Firstly I shall play that touching little ballad I heard Monsieur here +warble so sweetly as we rolled homeward on his chariot. If I play he +accompanies me with voice. Ne'st ce pas, Monsieur?</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Nervously.</div> + +<p>Is your mother out Ellen?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>She's lookin' after the hens I think. She won't hear you.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>William John Granahan starts singing two verses of a folk song, the tramp +accompanying meanwhile with fiddle, always putting in an extra flourish. +The rest all join, even the grandfather beats time with a stick. The door +opens and Mrs. Granahan appears seemingly astonished at the uproar. All +suddenly cease singing and try to appear innocent, except the tramp, who +goes on playing. He suddenly notices the cessation.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">Tramp.</div> + +<p>Bravo. A most exquisite little air and beautifully rendered.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He stops short on seeing Mrs. Granahan who stands glaring at him arms +akimbo.</p></div> + +<p>Your pardon madam. You are the mistress I take it of this most noble and +hospitable house.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Ignoring him and going to centre of floor where she looks angrily at +William John Granahan who endeavours to appear unconcerned.</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>You should be well ashamed of yourself William John Granahan. What will +they say about you in the Session I wonner next Sabbath day. D'you think my +house is a home for all the dirt and scum of the country side?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Tramp.</div> + +<p>Your pardon madam. You owe me an apology. Appearances belie me but scum I +am not. I was at one time the well known and justly famous leader of the +Blue Bohemian Wind and String—</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Wind and string fiddlesticks. Out you go. Out you will go. I want no tramps +in here upsettin' my house and makin' it the talk of the neighbours. Out +you go at once.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Tramp.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">With drunken pride.</div> + +<p>I thrust my company on no man or woman uninvited.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Out you go. I want no excuses. Put him out of this Samuel James.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Samuel James eludes his mother's eye and beckons the tramp to stay on.</p></div> + +<p>The drunken wretch comin' in here. A nice place you'd have it William +Granahan with your fine company.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>I brought him home here as a tarr'ble and awful warnin' to Robbie John what +this sort of an occupation brings a man till. Yon see him Robbie John. +There's you're great fiddlin' for you. Be warned in time.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The tramp moves to the door. Robbie John rises and goes across to him and +taps him on the shoulder.</p></div> + +<p>Here.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Slips him money.</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>God bless you poor wanderin' soul and God forbid any Granahan should ever +be treated as you have been.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Tramp.</div> + +<p>Sir, I thank you.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Coming back to him and confidentially.</div> + +<p>Perhaps I could yet please your ears with a romanza which I composed +myself—</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Away with you out of this. We want none of your music here.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">To tramp.</div> + +<p>Why don't you give up playin' that fiddle of yours and turn your hand to +honest work?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Tramp.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Proudly.</div> + +<p>Desert my fiddle. The fiddle presented to me at Vienna by my orchestra! A +genuine old Cremona 200 years old! Rather would I wander in Hades for ever. +Never! Though cruel words stab and wound me.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Half sobbing.</div> + +<p>Farewell.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>All remain quiet. The strains of a melancholy air like a serenade come from +outside. It slowly dies away in the distance. Robbie John moves forward as +if to go out.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Sharply.</div> + +<p>Robbie John. Where are you going? Don't dare to leave the house. My son +going out to keep company with the likes of that dirty rapscallion.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Ah mother pity the poor wretch. Every word you said to him cut and wounded +me to the quick. Did you not see the tears in his eyes for all his fine +talk. I should like to know more about him.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>If you went to the sergeant at the barrack, I warrant ye he could tell you +more about him.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He bends down as if to catch the sound of the fiddling which grows very +faint.</p></div> + +<p>Listen!</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Robbie John moves to door and opens it.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Angrily.</div> + +<p>Where are you going?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Rapt.</div> + +<p>Listen.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He holds his hand for silence. Then quickly goes out.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">To get into his wife's good graces.</div> + +<p>Well Mary the foal's sould at last.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>I've a crow to pluck wi' you over that same foal, William Granahan. I +suppose they did you as usual.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Getting angry.</div> + +<p>Nine and thirty year ha'e I gone till market and no man, woman, child, dog +or divil ever got the better of me in a bargain yet and right well you know +it.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">With pride.</div> + +<p>I soul' the foal for thirty poun' not a ha'penny less.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Doubtfully.</div> + +<p>I hope you ha'e it all wi' you.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>I ha'e it all but two shillin' and wan penny.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>And can you account for them?</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Woman dear would you ha'e me go and come to market wi'out a ha'penny in my +pocket? Have some gumption about ye.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">In a loud angry voice.</div> + +<p>I'm danged but the next time I make a good bargain, I'll go and ha'e a week +to myself in Newcastle or Belfast. I'm young enow yet.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>There. Stop your fool talk in front of the children and go and change your +clothes.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>It was a good price indeed.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Slily.</div> + +<p>Yes. He soul' it for thirty poun' and William John McKillop lookin' all +roads to give him forty for it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Angrily and stamping his foot.</div> + +<p>Will you houl' your tongue you blatterin' blatherin' idiot. Bad scran to ye +for a meddle—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He goes forward to go into room and aims a box on the ears at Samuel James +who retreats to table and watches him go through door followed by Mrs. +Granahan. A noise of voices in angry argument is heard.</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Now he'll catch it. If I had been Da I would ha'e kept back five poun' and +toul' her I soul' it for twenty-five, but the ould man's that honest, he +knows no better.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Robbie John enters. He goes to seat himself in his old position but stops a +moment when spoken to, and then in a petulant manner takes his seat on +hearing the speech.</p></div> + +<p>Well Robbie and what d'ye think of his great object lesson till ye. It was +me put it intil Da's head. I thought there might be a bit o' value.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Chuckles.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>There. I just thought it was you did it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>She comes and sits down again beside table at left. Samuel James seats +himself on table carelessly and swings his legs under.</p></div> + +<p>You're a schemer that's what you are.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Aye. There's a dale of the crook in ye Samuel James. You're deeper nor one +would think.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Suddenly to Robbie John.</div> + +<p>I seen Jenny Graeme at the market to-day Robbie.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Robbie John does not answer, being evidently shy.</p></div> + +<p>Oh well, maybe you're no interested in her.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">To Ellen.</div> + +<p>Man there was a fine lock o' cattle at the fair, Ellen.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>I'm sure there was. Who else did you see?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Unwillingly but unable to restrain his jealousy.</div> + +<p>Who was with her? Who left her home?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Nodding slily to Ellen.</div> + +<p>Young M'Donnell o' the Hill head was looking after her pretty close.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Glancing at Robbie and then at Samuel James and smiling.</p></div> + +<p>He's a very nice young man.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Savagely.</div> + +<p>I wish her luck wi' yon booby.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>There's nothin' the matter wi' him. He has a nice place and a fine farm +forbye.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Farms and cattle and crops don't make a fine man.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Deed now Robbie, they goes a long ways.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">To himself.</div> + +<p>Better nor bows and fiddles and such trash.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">To Robbie John.</div> + +<p>I heerd up at Bann to-day, that ye won three poun' at the Feis at Newcastle +a Monday.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>I knew that on Tuesday. It was fine of Robbie wasn't it?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>It all depends. Da heard it for the first time to-day and I can tell you it +didn't seem fine to him. Coorse a poun' or two would ha'e made a differ o' +opinion same as it done wi' you I expect.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>You needn't sneer at me. It was me told Robbie to keep it. He was goin' to +give it all up. I wouldn't be so mean as to take it off him.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Oh you're an unusual sort of young woman I know but if Robbie John takes my +advice, he better choose quick between playin' the fiddle and stayin' on +here.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Give up my fiddle. Never.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Well you can plaze yourself. I suppose you could make as much by fiddlin' +as if you stayed on here and waited till we had the place divid among the +three of us.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Why I heard from Mr. Taylor that father was worth four or five hundred +pounds and then the two farms.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Aye. You'd be a long time Robbie John earnin' that wi' your fiddle. Don't +heed his fool talk son. Stay at home and nivir mind the musicians.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Robbie dear, and I'm sure Mr. Graeme would never let his daughter marry a +penniless fiddler—even if she would herself. I don't know. She might +and she—mightn't.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Rising from table and stretching himself.</div> + +<p>Coorse if he made a name for himself he could marry the landlord's +daughter. I heerd the quality go mad after the musicianers.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Makes to door.</div> + +<p>Well I'm going to wash my hands.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Goes out to yard.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Robbie dear. Come here.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Aye. What is it?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Take heed till yourself. I know what's going on better nor you. Take an +ould man's advice. Settle yourself down and give up that string instrument. +Coorse I daresay you may go and become a great man wi' it but you're more +like to become a cratur like thon that was in as not. There's no good +runnin' risks. And your father, I heerd him say himself, if you make your +bed, you'll lie on it, for he'll nivir help you out, once you take to the +fiddlin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Aye Robbie. Its far better not to run the risk of becoming a beggar man.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Well I'll think over it Ellen. I'll think over it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Robbie, come out wi' me.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">The two go out by door into yard.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>William John and Mrs. Granahan come in arguing excitedly.</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Well you can ha'e the poun' if you like, but I can tell you its a sore +pinch to make things do, what with the price of the sugar riz up and the +flour.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Samuel James comes in. He takes in the situation and seats himself again on +the table near Ellen who remains still seated beside it.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>There. That's enough to do about it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He goes over to armchair but does not sit down and remains facing Mrs. +Granahan.</p></div> + +<p>Twenty nine poun' you'll get and no more.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Emphatically.</div> + +<p>Min' that.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>I'll min' it right enough William Granahan. And its a sore time I have +trying to keep in wi' one hand what you lavish out wi' the other.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Nudging Ellen slily.</div> + +<p>I was talking by the way to Mrs. McCrum the milliner, mother, to-day, and +she said to give you word she'd have your new tay gown ready for you a +Tuesday week.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Triumphantly.</div> + +<p>There you are ma'am. There you are. Keepin' it in wi' one hand were you? +Faith if I know anything you lather it out wi both hands and feet. You want +to rob me of me one poun' do ye? And all for an ould tay gown!</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Contemptuously.</div> + +<p>A tay gown!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Maliciously.</div> + +<p>A taygown's not expensive.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Oh indeed now? Hach. You'll be wantin' one next I suppose. A nice house +this is, where a man couldn't get keepin' as much as would buy him an ounce +o' tobaccy.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Viciously.</div> + +<p>Man I do hate this hypockerisy.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>I'll not talk any more till ye, William Granahan. You're full o' drink and +bad tongued.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>If you say any more till me, I'll smash all the crockery in the house.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Come out Ellen to the creamery and maybe when we come in, he'll be a bit +cooler in the head.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>She hurries out followed by Ellen through door to yard.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">To Samuel James.</div> + +<p>She's a tarr'ble woman your mother when she's started. But I'm much obliged +to you Samuel James for the mention o' that tay gown. By me sang, but that +turned the enemy's flank.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Laughs.</div> + +<p>I'm danged but you're the boy.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Gratefully.</div> + +<p>Heth you saved me a poun' anyway.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Rising and going over sheepishly to him.</div> + +<p>You'll not forget me Da? will you?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Suspiciously.</div> + +<p>Na.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Well ye might gie us a part o' it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>How much dy'e want?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Twelve shillin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Would you take the very boots off me feet. Where would I get ye twelve +shillin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Out o' the poun' o' coorse. Where else?</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Grumblingly.</div> + +<p>You're askin' ower much. If it was a saxpence</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Samuel James shrugs his shoulders.</div> + +<p>or a shillin'</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Samuel James shrugs more emphatically.</div> + +<p>or two shillin'?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>No.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>or half a crown?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>No.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>I'd think nothing of lendin' them till ye. But twelve shillin'! Would three +shillin' no' do?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>No. It won't. Either give me the twelve shillin' or I'll tell her about +your conduck—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>There. There it is an bad scran to ye. To think o' me walkin' ten mile to +the fair and back and arguin' wi' dailers and chates of all kinds and +gettin thirty poun' for a baste I wouldn't buy myself for thirty shillin' +and only gettin' eight shillin' out o' it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Whistling and counting money delightedly.</div> + +<p>Aye. Its a hard world and no mistake.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Excitedly.</div> + +<p>I'll go down to the shough and drown myself I will.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Na. Go to MucAlanan's and drown yerself.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>I'm danged but you're right. Na. Na. She'll hear me goin' out by the gate.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Boys but you're the poor hearted man. Well I'm away.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">He makes to door.</div> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Where now?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>To Courdy Williamson's for the loan of a monkey wrinch for the new machine. +The hay's for cuttin' the morrow.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Oh aye. An you'll be for coortin' that young imp of a daughter o' his I +warrant ye. Were you there yisterday forenoon?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Somewhat taken aback.</div> + +<p>Yis. Why d'ye ask?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Oh nothin'. Only I hadn't a sowl to help me wi' them cattle.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Well wasn't Robbie John at home? What ailed him he couldn't help ye?</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Look you here Samuel James.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Samuel James comes back nearer.</div> + +<p>I've been worried wi' that boy this long time.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Samuel James nods approvingly.</div> + +<p>I've made up my mind to-day after seein' yon scarecrow we met at Buckna +cross roads, Robbie John aither mends himself or he goes out o' this.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>You're right Da. You hae stud his goings on a long time. I think ye do well +to stop him. It's only doin' him a kindness.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>I'll just ask him to burn it when he comes in. If he won't, he can just +plaze himself. I'll hae no more to do wi' him.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Suddenly.</div> + +<p>I wunner what his mother would say to that?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>She' just as tired of it as you are. Wait; I'll call her in.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Goes to door back and shouts.</div> + +<p>Are you there ma'am?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Without.</div> + +<p>Aye.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>She comes to door, opens it and stands looking inquiringly at both of them.</p></div> + +<p>Well?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Da's just been talkin' about Robbie John, and he wants you to hear what he +says.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Robbie John's an idle useless paghle. He'll aither mend himself or go out +o' this.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Sharply.</div> + +<p>Mend yourself first, me good man.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Its not like as if he tuk a drop o' drink or fell in wi' bad company, for +you'll get quet o' drink and bad company if you hae no money.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Slily.</div> + +<p>It was mother and I larnt you that.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Snappishly.</div> + +<p>Will you hould your tongue.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">To Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>When he might ha' been lookin after the cattle or the pigs or somethin +else, where is he? Up in the loft playin that damnation fiddle o' his. +Night an mornin' he's at it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Deed and he's doin badly by it and no mistake. He's not been worth a ha' +penny till us, this last six months. I think you do right just to stop him.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>I heerd he won three poun' at the Feis last Monday at Newcastle.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>There you are. And he never offered me one ha'penny o' it. Me that brought +him up and raired and fed him. Them that plays the fiddle comes to no good +end, I can tell ye.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Reminiscently and with a sort of shame-faced pride.</p></div> + +<p>Not but I wasn't the great man at it myself wanst. And you were the girl +that could ha' danced to it Mary. But thank God I quet it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Curiously.</div> + +<p>Why?</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>I might ha took to drink and bad company and the like.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>You're no rid o' that yet William Granahan. Ye mind what way ye come home +last Bann Fair on top o' the bread cart.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Slily.</div> + +<p>Yis. And the way the Scarva man done him out o' the price o' the two pigs.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>That's one thing I can't get over. Was it in a public house ye met him?</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>There. There. Thats enough to do about it. I hear enough about drinkin' +from John Graeme every session day without you etarnally at it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Robbie John and Grandfather enter. They evidently understand from the looks +of those present that something important is talked of.</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>Where's that fiddle of yours Robbie John? Bring it to me.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Robbie John looks curiously at him and then at Samuel James. He goes into +room and brings it out. He holds it in his hands and looks suspiciously at +the father.</p></div> + +<p>Now Robbie John listen to what I and your mother have thought about this. +For our sake and your own we want you to give up that accursed thing and +put it from you.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Why? What harm does it do you or me?</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>It makes you negleck your work. It makes you think o' things you shouldn't +think o'. It makes you loss slape o' nights sitting up an playin' and then +you can't rise in the mornin'. When you should be polissin the harness, or +mendin' a ditch, or watchin' the cattle, or feedin' the poultry, you've got +this thing in your hand and practisin' on it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Indignantly.</div> + +<p>Its not true. I don't do these things. I—</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Now will you atten' to your duties and give up this playin'. What good will +it ever do ye? Ye seen what it brought yon man till that was in here. It's +a tarrible warnin' till ye.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>The fiddle didn't make him what he is. The drink did that.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Scornfully.</div> + +<p>Aye. The leader of an ould circus band or somethin' like.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Getting excited.</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p>I'd just do wi that as I'd do with a sarpint. Trample it under my heels.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Threateningly.</div> + +<p>Dare to put a hand on it. I'll kill the first man tries to.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Angrily.</div> + +<p>You dar' talk that way to your father!</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Soothingly.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Now Robbie dear. Don't be gettin' on that way.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Robbie my son mind what I was tellin' ye. Its better to bear it if you can +my son. Its a hard thing but you can take my word for it, you'll no regret +it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Sadly.</div> + +<p>I had o' coorse a will drawn up and signed by 'torney McAllan and was for +lavin' ye nice an' comfortable when I was to be takin' away.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">He breaks down.</div> + +<p>Robbie, Robbie, my son, sure its not my heart you're for breakin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Coorse I heerd from one o' the judges, Robbie, at the Feis that you had the +touch o' a master, and all that sort o' thing; but I advise ye—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Here the grandfather shakes his stick at him threateningly.</p></div> + +<p>I advise ye—of coorse its hard to know.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Looking angrily at Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Don't think o' that Robbie. Sure every man that plays a fiddle, thinks he's +a genius. Don't be led astray son.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Coaxingly.</div> + +<p>Aye. Your grand-da has sense wi' him Robbie. After all what about it. Man +there's that bonny wee lass waitin' for you over at Graemes. To the fire +wi' it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Robbie John hesitates. The grandfather pats him approvingly. With bowed +head he goes forward to place it on the fire.</p><br /><br /></div> + + +<p style='text-align:center;'><span class="smcap"><b>Curtain.</b></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> +<h2>SCENE II.</h2> + + +<p><small>The same scene. Ellen and Mrs. Granahan seated near fire.</small></p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>So Mr. Graeme is comin' over here to settle matters with father to-day do +you say?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Yes child, he's comin' to-day.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>What is it all about?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Well I suppose he's anxious to see what money is comin' to Robbie John. He +doesn't want to throw his daughter away without askin' questions. I expeck +she's well enough to do to marry anyone she likes, but he's a canny man.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Well I suppose he's right. He must be anxious to see her well married.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Oh now between the two of them, Robbie John will be a sight better off, nor +your father and I, Ellen when we married.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Robbie's a lucky man too. I never seen anyone as fond of him as she is. I +wonner when father will be goin' to see anyone about me?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Oh whist child, your time's comin'. Who was it left ye home from John +Graeme's temperance lecture?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Slily.</div> + +<p>That's a secret.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Knowingly.</div> + +<p>Not till me. He's a brave body anyway.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Who?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Now you're the soft lassie. Who's the manager of the creamery up beyont?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Unsuspectingly,</div> + +<p>Tom Taylor of course.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>And of coorse it was Tom Taylor left ye home.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Knock at the door.</div> + +<p>Come in. Come in.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Taylor enters.</div> + +<p>Why speak o' the divil—how d'ye do Mr. Taylor.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He comes in, stands rather awkwardly looking at Ellen, and then goes over +near them.</p></div> + +<p>Very well, thank you, ma'am.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>This is my daughter Ellen.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Slily.</div> + +<p>I think ye met her afore.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Shaking hands with Ellen, he detains her hand for a second and then drops +it.</p></div> + +<p>We did, I think, didn't we?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Knowingly.</div> + +<p>I just thought as much.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Aside.</div> + +<p>Oh well, he's a brave body and would do rightly if the creamery does the +same.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Suddenly to Taylor.</div> + +<p>Are ye coortin' any this weather Mr. Taylor?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Taken aback. Then decides to laugh it off.</div> + +<p>Well—eh—no. I'm not doin' much that way.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Incredulously.</div> + +<p>Oh indeed. Well I heerd otherwise. Its full time ye were lookin' about for +a wife. You'll be gettin' well on past thirty soon.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Fidgeting uneasily.</div> + +<p>Oh I'm time enough for a couple of years or more. I want to look round me a +bit.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Well ye better look sharp, for you'll soon be getting too ould for gettin' +any sort of a dasint girl.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Inquisitively.</div> + +<p>Ha'e ye anyone in your eye yet?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>I have an account to pay your good man Mrs. Granahan.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Two poun' ten is due.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Thinking.</div> + +<p>Aye. But I suppose you'll be now in what I would call a good way o' doin'.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>There was a five per cent. dividend this half year. The creamery's goin' on +well.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Searching in pocket and getting out account.</div> + +<p>Two pounds, nine and six, ma'am, beggin' your pardon.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Ach sure sixpence is naither here nor there to a creamery.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Pauses.</div> + +<p>If that's the way you are, you could be married in a year's time and—</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Evidently desirous to lead conversation off this topic.</p></div> + +<p>Here's the money, ma'am.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">He lays it down on the table and counts it out.</div> + +<p>You'll do as well as Mr. Granahan, I suppose. You take all to do with the +money part I think.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Yes I do. You were at the lecture last Monday?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Alarmed.</div> + +<p>What the divil—</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Suddenly to Mrs. Granahan and genially.</div> + +<p>Yes. Could you oblige me with a receipt ma'am?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Surely. Here Ellen, get me the pen and ink.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Ellen goes into room.</div> + +<p>I suppose now there were some nice young weemin there—eh Mr. Taylor?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Uneasily.</div> + +<p>Yes. And don't forget the stamp ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Ach sure a penny stamp's what you always carry wi' ye.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Confidentially.</div> + +<p>I think shame on ye Mr. Taylor, triflin' wi' the poor girls. There's no +excuse for a man o' your age.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Fidgeting.</div> + +<p>Well, well, I—Here's a stamp ma'am.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Impatiently.</div> + +<p>I'm young enough yet. I don't want to marry yet awhile.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Well now I think ye'd be better o' some one to look after ye. There's +William John Granahan. <i>He's</i> niver done bein' thankful since he married. +He says he doesn't know what he mightn't ha' been, if he hadn't married +<i>me</i>.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Slily.</div> + +<p>I can quite believe <i>that</i>.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>It was a good job for him, I can tell ye. For what wi' goin' to dances and +the like and public houses, he was for making a nice mess o' himself.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Confidentially.</div> + +<p>And between you and me, Ellen will no' be so badly off aither when he goes.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Ellen comes in and puts paper, &c. on table.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>Here's the stamp ma'am.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Not noticing.</div> + +<p>And there's a girl for you Mr. Taylor, that we spent a dale o' time over, +and was brought up most careful. She's none o' your or'nary girls.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Sharply.</div> + +<p>Oh mother!</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>She looks at Taylor, smiles, and shrugs her shoulders.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Motioning silence.</div> + +<p>There's too many girls runnin' about and all they can do is—sing a +song or two, and dress themselves up like play actresses, and run about at +bazaars and the like trying to get ahoult o' young men.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>You're quite right ma'am.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Now there's Ellen was four years at a boardin' school that Mr. Graeme +recommended till us, and I can tell you she got the proper schoolin', and +let alone that, she can bake, sew or knit, and knows all about the managin' +of a house.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Oh quit!</p> + +<div class="rightquot">She looks diffidently across at Taylor, who grins.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Counting money.</div> + +<p>Here. It's sixpence short o' the count.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>Let me see.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">He goes to table and counts money.</div> + +<p>Two and two's four, and two's six, and two and six is eight and six, and +one shillin'—nine and six.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Thinking.</div> + +<p>Nine and six. I thought it was—oh yes it <i>was</i> nine and six.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>Yes. Nine and six.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Very good. I'll write you a receip'.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Takes pen and paper.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">To Taylor who stands looking over at her.</div> + +<p>You haven't been round this way a long time Mr. Taylor. What ailed you, you +didn't call?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>Oh I was very busy.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He looks at Mrs. Granahan who is writing laboriously. Then goes and +examines a fiddle that hangs on the wall.</p></div> + +<p>Ha! I thought Robbie John had burnt his fiddle and promised to play no +more.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Aye so he did, but there's a strange story wi' that thing you're lookin' +at. There was a tramp come here one day I was out, and when I come back, I +found him playin' away on that thing, and the house in an uproar.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>Aye? He left it here then?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>No, wait till I tell ye. I packed him out o' this, and the next thing I +heerd about him was when a wheen o' weeks ago he was got half dead wi' wet +and could in the Flough Moss. John McKillop was down for cutting turf, and +foun' him in a peat hole, wi' his hands on the brew, and the ould fiddle +beside him.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Yes. The poor soul died the next day, and just before he died he asked +McKillop to bring over his fiddle to give to Robbie John. Robbie had been +kind to him sometime or other, and the poor bein' never forgot it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>Ach aye. I do remember hearin' somethin' about it. They said he had been a +big man in his day I think.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Aye. He was blatherin the day he was here about bein' the leader of an ould +band or somethin' like, now that I call to mind. But indeed I paid no heed +till him, for he was part drunk.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Curiously.</div> + +<p>You didn't get Robbie to burn this one I see.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Well you see, Samuel James said it was a very valuable one and worth fifty +poun' or more may be. There's an inscription on it somewhere if you look.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Taking down fiddle and examining it.</div> + +<p>Aye so I see. "To Nicholas Werner as a token of esteem from his orchestra. +Vienna, 1878."</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Yes poor soul. He was tellin' the truth and no one believin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>And does Robbie never play it?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Not since he promised that I know of. But all the same it must tempt him +for I see his eyes fixed on it often enough when he thinks no one's +lookin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He looks over at Mrs. Granahan who appears to be engrossed in her writing. +He is just slipping his arm round Ellen when Mrs. Granahan looks up. He +instantly drops his arm.</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Ha'e you that stamp Mr. Taylor?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>Its usual Mrs. Granahan for whoever signs the receipt to supply the stamp, +however, there you are.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Mrs. Granahan licks the stamp, and signs the receipt.</p></div> + +<p>The writin' doesn't come easy to you, ma'am.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Now its not very courteous makin' fun o' poor old weemin', Mr. Taylor. I +thought better o' you nor that.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>Ould weemin'? Talk sense, Mrs. Granahan. I only wish my ould woman, if ever +I have one, looks as well as you do.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>There, there, none o' your fool nonsense. You don't go blarneyin' me, like +you do the likes of Ellen there.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Ach mother!</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>I'm much obledged to ye for the money Mr. Taylor. I must put it by me.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Goes into room.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>I suppose you've heard about Robbie?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Coming near her.</div> + +<p>No. What's happened?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>He's to be married to Jane Graeme at Christmas and Mr. Graeme's comin' over +here to-day to settle about the money.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Slily.</div> + +<p>I wonder who your father will be settlin' matters with Ellen, when you get +engaged.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>Why, of course—whoever gets me, I suppose.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>Well there's one thing I wouldn't haggle with him over.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Ellen.</div> + +<p>And what would that be?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>Yourself of course.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He draws her to him and makes to kiss her. Robbie John and Samuel James +pass by the window and Ellen immediately slips away from him. When they +come in, she lifts a can and goes out by door to yard. Robbie John and +Samuel James seat themselves at table.</p> + +<p>Leaning against table and nodding to both.</p></div> + +<p>Well how's the corn doin'?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Oh, fairly well the year. How's the crame market?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>Much the same. Nothin' new with you I suppose?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Well they're goin' to settle Robbie the day, that's all. He's a lucky boy.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>I wish you joy, Robbie.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Thank ye. Thank ye kindly. She's a nice wee girl.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>You don't seem as gay hearted as I would expect, does he Mr. Taylor? You'd +think he was for getting hung or somethin'. I suppose ye heerd all about +him givin' up the fiddle playin'? And the luck o' it. To burn his ould +fiddle, and then get another a few days after. You'd think there was some +sort of a strange warnin' or advice or somethin' in it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>It is very strange.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Samuel James do ye remember the time that ould tramp was playin' on this +fiddle, as he went out that day, down the loney?</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Samuel James nods.</div> + +<p>Well, it seemed to me as if he were playin' to bring me out after him. D'ye +mind the story, Mr. Taylor, about the piper that went off with all the +children, and was niver heard tell of again.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>Aye.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Well I could feel him drawin' me out after him the very same way. And last +night, as sure as death, I heard the same uncanny air singin' in my ears, +and it seemed to be callin' me to come out o' this.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Exchanges startled looks with Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Och I suppose the wind or somethin' outside. But there's no doubt +Robbie you have a genius for the fiddle. There was a German professor +of music at Newcastle the day you won the prize and he was—But +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +its not right of me to make you vexed, now you've stopped playin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Ach he doesn't mind you tellin'. Do ye Robbie? Tell and hearten him up a +wee bit.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>This German was so struck with your playin' that he was lookin' for you all +roads, but you were nowhere to be found.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Interested.</div> + +<p>Aye? I went straight home. I wonner what he wanted?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Perhaps he could have given him a lift, eh Mr. Taylor?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>He was talkin' to me afterwards and by the way, I had clean forgot.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Fumbling in his pocket.</div> + +<p>He gave me his card to give you. I have it on me somewhere I think.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Producing it.</div> + +<p>Aye, there it is.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Reading.</div> + +<p>Professor—somethin' or other Royal College of Music.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Keep it. If I had it, it would only temp' me.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Looking significantly at Samuel James who indicates by shaking his head +that he considers Robbie John hopeless.</p></div> + +<p>You're a queer character. All right. But you can have it any time.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<div class="rightquot">To Samuel James.</div> + +<p>I wish I had said nothin' about it. Where's the old man?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>The two ould men are out in the haggard, but</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Slily.</div> + +<p>Ellen's in the crame-house.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Taylor goes out through door at back. Samuel James looks over at Robbie +John who sits deep in thought near the fire.</p></div> + +<p>You can no' hoodwink me, Robbie. You're no' happy.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>I'm happy enough.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Angrily.</div> + +<p>Don't be tormentin' me.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Faith you look happy.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Drawing closer.</div> + +<p>I seen you last night at it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Looks round startled.</div> + +<p>I couldn't keep from it. There's a spell or somethin' on it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Na. Na. But every fiddle has its spell for you. You broke your promise.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>You followed me then?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Yes. Ye crept on your stocking soles to the back o' the forth ditch, and +played there for two mortal hours, till I was heart feared they'd miss us +out o' bed, and raise a cry.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>And you stood two hours in the night listenin' to me.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>I 'clare to God, there's somethin' out o' common wi' you or that fiddle, +for I had to stop and listen, and me teeth chatterin' wi' could.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>I did wrong I know, but look here Samuel James, as long as I see that thing +hangin' there, my hands are itchin' to hold it, and the tunes I could +play—they keep runnin' in my head.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Suddenly rising.</div> + +<p>I'll destroy it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Quieting him down.</div> + +<p>Na. Na. Its a vallible fiddle.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>It is. Ach man but it does temp' me sorely.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Aye. You might make a fortune, the dear knows. Man I know what <i>I</i> would do +if I could play like <i>you</i> do.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Sarcastically.</div> + +<p>That was if ye had the heart.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Excited.</div> + +<p>Ach quit! Quit talkin' to me that way. I'm going out.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Goes out by door at back.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Getting off seat and standing about centre of room.</p></div> + +<p>He'll take to it yet.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">He goes over nearer fireplace.</div> + +<p>I can see it workin' in him. Sure his hands are tremblin' and his fingers +twitchin' all the times he's lookin' at it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The grandfather enters softly by door at back. He stands looking at Samuel +James who does not observe him.</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<p>Maybe its no' right of me to let it hang there. Ach. He maybe could make +money plenty. I want till have a fine place and a lock o' money. And I'll +build a bigger house.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Hobbling over to his seat.</div> + +<p>Aye. Aye. Ye could do a heap wi' money, Samuel James.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Alarmed. He endeavours to bluff it with a show of geniality.</p></div> + +<p>Money's the thing, Grand-da.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Its a tarr'ble fine thing, there's no doubt. Food and drink and fine +clothes and fine houses ye can get.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>And tobaccy and seegars and the front seat at a consart.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Here. Don't be temptin' Robbie John about playin' on that fiddle. You've +upset the boy.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Sharply.</div> + +<p>I don't temp' him.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>You're always remindin' him of it. I can see what you're workin' for Samuel +James. Ye want all the money for yourself.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Ha' sense, Grand-da. Sure they're settlin' the matter to-day and he's to be +married at Christmas. He wouldn't do anythin' rash now.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>The clock has no' struck the hour yet Samuel James. Ye could no' tell +what's workin' in his mind.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Well, he'd be a fool, and what's more, he knows himself to be one if he +goes. He'll lose all the money from Da if he goes, and I'm sure Jennie +Graeme's father wouldn't turn his head to look at a fiddler.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Aye. He's tarr'ble proud o' his family.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Opens door of room and comes in.</div> + +<p>Here. I seen Mr. Graeme and your Da comin' up the loney from the windy in +the low room.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Well, they'll be for comin' in here and we're only in the road. Come and +twist a wheen o' ropes for me.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Samuel James and Grandfather go out by door at back.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Takes brush and sweeps floor. She then arranges a kettle at the fire. Then +goes to door and looks out.</p></div> + +<p>Aye. Here he bes now and that good man o' mine talkin' till him a dozen +till one. And ten till one, he'll have John Graeme that angered wi' his +arguin', that there'll be nothin' settled the day.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Sound of William John Granahan's voice. He appears to be talking at a great +rate and most emphatically.</p> + +<p>John Graeme and William John Granahan pass the window.</p></div> + +<p>Aye, to be sure. He'd rather get the better o' Graeme in an argyment as +settle wi' him over twenty sons, the ould gomeril.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>John Graeme and William John Granahan enter.</p></div> + +<p>How dy'e do, Mr. Graeme?</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>She shakes hands with him warmly and warns the husband by nods not to +resume the argument.</p></div> + +<p>It's the brave weather for the crops this.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>Indeed we should be deeply thankful for the marcies vouchsafed us.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Solemnly.</div> + +<p>Aye indeed.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Well indeed I would be that myself, only the half o' them young chickens +goin' off with the gapes. It was a tarr'ble to do to save what's left o' +them.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Oh well. Its all in the way o' Providence, Mr. Graeme.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>She looks disapprovingly across at Granahan. The two men seat themselves. +John Graeme beside table and Wm. Granahan on edge of table next him.</p></div> + +<p>That was a fine lecture on the Temperance ye gied us Mr. Graeme, at +Ballykelly. It done some people a heap o' good.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">She looks across meaningly at William Granahan.</div> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Apparently much pleased.</div> + +<p>Do you say so, Mrs. Granahan? I'm much pleased indeed to hear o' it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>I only wished more o' the same kind had heerd you.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>She looks across again at William John Granahan who avoids her eye.</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>But you'll excuse me, I'm sure. I ha'e some things next room to look after +for the evenin'.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>She curtsies to Graeme and with a warning look at Granahan goes into room.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>I am very much pleased indeed to hear your good woman say she liked what I +said. How did ye take to it yourself, Mr. Granahan?</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Suddenly waking up from twisting and untwisting a piece of string which he +has found and in which he appears deeply interested while his wife is +talking.</p></div> + +<p>How did we like the speech you gave on temperance, d'ye say?</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Carelessly.</div> + +<p>Och, it was a very good and sensible discoorse, so I heerd Ellen and Mrs. +Granahan say.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>Ye didn't go yourself then.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Disappointedly.</div> + +<p>Man, I wanted ye there particuler.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>I ha'e no doot if I had been there, I could ha' got up and contradickted +ye, for</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Emphatically.</div> + +<p>I did not agree wi' all I heerd ye said.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Surprised.</div> + +<p>Not agree wi' what I said.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Scornfully with evident disgust.</div> + +<p>Man, ye couldn't argy wi' facts. What did ye disagree wi' in the discoorse?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Well for one thing, ye said there was too many public houses in the +country.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Scornfully.</div> + +<p>And every right-minded man would agree wi' that.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Well I can shew you another. You'll no argy wi' me that if a man wants to +drink, he will drink.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Somewhat perplexed.</div> + +<p>Well——</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Slowly.</div> + +<p>I suppose I do agree till that.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>And if a man will drink, he's boun' till get drunk.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>Na. Na. I don't agree till that.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Triumphantly.</div> + +<p>Did you ivir hear tell of a man who was drunk wi'out drinkin'?</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>That's no' in the argyment at all.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>But I tell you it is. A man's bound to be drinkin' if he gets drunk.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>I'm no contradickin' that at all. I——</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Interrupting.</div> + +<p>Now houl' your tongue till I explain till ye. If a man get's drunk when +he's drinkin', he's bound to be drunk o' coorse.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Contemptuously.</div> + +<p>Ye talk like a child.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Now wait till I get it hammered intill ye. Now when that man's drunk, he's +boun' to ha'e been drinkin'.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He hesitates and is obviously confused. Then suddenly seems to grasp the +idea he wants.</p></div> + +<p>Aye—in a public house o' coorse.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>O' coorse. What else would he do there but drink.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Now that man gets drunk.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">He looks inquiringly at Graeme</div> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Hopelessly.</div> + +<p>Aye.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Now the public houses are that scarce that he has till walk home maybe ten +mile or more.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>Well?</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>And ten till wan he gets lost or somethin', and they have the whole +countryside upset lookin' for him. Now if he had a public house convanient +in his own townland, there would be no bother at all, and he could be at +his work the next mornin' wi'out any interruptin' o' labour. D'ye see what +I mane?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Suddenly appearing at door evidently angry.</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>The more public houses the less drinkin' did he say? If he had <i>his</i> way o' +it, every other house from here to Buckna would be a public house.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">To husband.</div> + +<p>Quit your wastin' Mr. Graeme's time wi' your argyments, and settle what he +has come here to do wi' ye.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Well. Well. We'll agree till let the matter drop. You ha'e nobody but your +daughter I suppose?</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>Well I ha'e a sister married up in Dublin.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>But she's in a good way o' doin' I suppose?</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>Oh yes. Purty fair. O' coorse I would like to lave her somethin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Ach, gi'e her a lock o' your hair or somethin'. You'll lave the place to +your daughter o' coorse.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>Yes. I'll be doin' that.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Aye. It's a purty fair farm o' land. Ye bought it out o' coorse?</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>Two year come March, and a good reduction.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Aye. So I heerd. Well if ye gi'e her the farm and what money ye ha'e, I'll +gi'e Robbie a cheque for a hunnert poun'.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Impressively.</div> + +<p>William John Granahan d'ye think this is a horse fair? My daughter will +ha'e no man unner five hunnert poun'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Uneasily and walking about.</div> + +<p>Man, you'll nivir get her married John Graeme, at that way o' talkin'. Five +hunnert poun'. D'ye think I'm a Rockyfellow? Ha'e some sense about ye.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>Aither that or no son o' yours weds my daughter. Five hunnert poun' and not +one ha'penny less. There's the family name to be thought o'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Ach! family name! a lock o' ould wives' blathers about who was married till +who, till you'd have your head sore takin' it all in.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>You've heerd what I ha'e to say. Take it or lave it. You can plaze +yourself.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Five hunnert poun'. It's a tarr'ble price. Would two hunnert no' do? You +see I ha'e Samuel James and Ellen to provide for.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>A Graeme o' Killainey weds no man unner five hunnert poun', William +Granahan. Mind that. I want my daughter married to no beggarman.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Excitedly.</div> + +<p>Beggarman! Beggarman, did ye say? Hats, John Graeme, I think ye should be proud o' wan o' yours +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +marryin' a Granahan. Money or no money, that's a nice way o' talkin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>I suppose ye know I come o' good family, Mr. Granahan?</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Sarcastically.</div> + +<p>I heard ye were wance cotter folk up by Dromara mountain.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Proudly.</div> + +<p>My father and my forefathers had my farm—aye, from the time o' the +plantin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>D'ye tell me? I nivir seen your laase o' the farm but of coorse if ye say +so. Did ye nivir hear tell of Smith, Hunter, and Fargison?</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Contemptuously.</div> + +<p>John Smith of Ballykelly?</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Disgusted.</div> + +<p>Yon cratur? Ballykelly?</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Proudly.</div> + +<p>Lonnon! Well my mother was a daughter o' Samuel James Smith, and a niece o' +Robert John Francis Fargison.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Contemptuously.</div> + +<p>I nivir heerd tell o' them.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>I wonner at your ignorance John Grame. A well educated +man like yourself as sets yourself up to be taching +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +the congregation on matters o' law and the temperance question, (<i>raising +voice</i>) and you that ignorant o' common information.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Opening door and coming in a few steps.</div> + +<p>William John Granahan, didn't I tell ye not to be raisin' argyments. How +you manage at the markets I nivir could understand. Get your business done, +and ha' settled wi' it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Soothingly.</div> + +<p>Whist, whist woman, I was only discoorsin'. Mind the tay and I'll mind the +rest. There. There. I agree to your tarms, John Graeme. I'll do it, though +it's lavin' me tarr'ble short.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Impressively.</div> + +<p>But there's one thing I'll no ha'e, William Granahan.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Alarmed.</div> + +<p>And what might that be?</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>If your son is to marry my daughter, I'll ha'e none o' his music. Its all +very well for quality and the like to go strummin' on instruments, but its +no' meant for a sensible farmer.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Aye. I agree wi' that. But look here. Mind ye a song or two and a bit o' a +tune on a long winter's night keeps one from thinkin' long and between you +and me, it keeps you from the bottle.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>That's where you and I differs. Supposin' he starts playin' a dance tune or +two, and the neighbours gather in. You like to do the thing dacint, and ye +send out for drink, and then it goes from bad to worse. Na. Na. I'll ha'e +none o' that.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Well. Well. Make your mind aisy. Ye know he has promised me nivir to play +again, and I don't think you'll hear much o' his fiddlin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>I'm right glad to hear it, and I'll tak' your word for it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Very good.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">With admiration.</div> + +<p>Man, you'd ha' made a great horsedailer John Graeme.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>Aye. I had an uncle in the town, a dailer, and he was always sayin' that.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>And well you could ha' done it, if I knowed anythin'. I'll go to Banbridge +a Friday wi' you to settle wi' the lawyers.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>Very good. I'll call for you wi' the trap that day. Its time I was for +goin' home.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>We were expectin' ye ower the day, and I think Mrs. Granahan has the tay +laid in the low room.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Calls.</div> + +<p>Mrs. Granahan!</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">From room.</div> + +<p>Yes.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">She comes in and stands waiting near door.</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>We're just after settlin' up about Robbie John and Jennie. Can ye get us a +drop o' tay?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>If you could just take Mr. Graeme for a turn round, I could ha'e it for you +in wan second. The table's laid and the kettle's boilin'. Is your daughter +wi' you Mr. Graeme?</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>Aye. She was comin' over after me. I suppose she should be here by now.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>Well I can show you the new reaper and binder I got. That new Wexford +machine, I was tellin' you about a Sunday in the Session.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>Very good. I'll just go out and see it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>William John Granahan and John Graeme go out by door at back.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Going over to fire and arranging kettle.</div> + +<p>Five hunnert poun, and after me tellin' him to keep till four hunnert. Wait +till I get ahoult o' him again. I'll speak till him. Did he no' hear me +thumpin' four times on the door till remind him. He must ha'e a soft spot +in his heart for Robbie John.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Tap at door.</div> + +<p>Come in.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Jane Graeme enters somewhat diffidently.</div> + +<p>Oh its you Miss Graeme.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Shakes hands.</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>Youre welcome indeed. Your father's just gone out wi' my good man.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>Yes. I know—but I thought perhaps—well that Robbie was in here.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Inspecting her critically.</div> + +<p>Deed now, I couldn't tell you where he might be.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>I'll just sit down a minute. I suppose you are all doing well here Mrs. +Granahan?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Ach aye. As well as one could expeck. There's nothin' to make much +complaint o'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>I haven't seen Robbie about for some time Mrs. Granahan. I suppose he's +working hard at the harvest.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Aye 'deed there's a brave press o' work on now, what wi' the corn a +cuttin', and the rest o' it, he's been gey busy o' late.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>Indeed I am sure he was.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>She looks round, sees the fiddle hanging up where Taylor has left it.</p></div> + +<div class="rightquot">Aside.</div> + +<p>Is that the fiddle he was telling me about, I wonder?</p> + +<div class="rightquot">To Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Is that the tramp's fiddle, Mrs. Granahan?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<p>Aye, that's the poor cratur's belongin'. But you needn't be afeared. +Robbie's indeed been very good. He's nivir played on it to my knowin', and +keeps his promise well.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>Poor Robbie. Do you not think he's unhappy about something or other Mrs. +Granahan. He's got very dull and moody this last while.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Deed now I don't see much odds in him Miss Graeme. He nivir was a great boy +with his tongue anyway;</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Slily.</div> + +<p>bar maybe an odd wan or two he would mak' up to.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>I think you do wrong to keep that fiddle hanging up before his eyes, when +he has promised never to play again.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Och blatherations. I nivir heerd the like o' the sort o' talk people goes +on wi' nowadays. Do ye think my son bes only an ould ba cryin' for a toy? +Deed now I don't think he worries his-self much about it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Aside.</div> + +<p>Poor Robbie.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">To Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Robbie's a poor hand at the farming, Mrs. Granahan.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Snappishly.</div> + +<p>Och aye. But he's greatly mended since he giv up playin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>Yes. He's a very poor farmer. But he was a wonder with his fiddle.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Oh well. It canna' be helped. He's better wi'out.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>I don't know.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>She goes over and takes down the fiddle seats herself and draws the bow +across it as it lies on her lap.</p></div> + +<p>Robbie could have made it speak to you. He used to make me cry, and then +laugh after it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>She places the strings near her ear and thumbs it wrapt in thought.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Looking contemptuously at her and then rising.</div> + +<p>You just stay here a second till I fix the tay.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>She goes into room. Jane remains seated where she is, occasionally touching +the strings and seemingly deep in thought. Robbie John passes window. He +looks in and then goes quickly to door and enters.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Who's that fiddlin'?</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Goes over to Jane.</div> + +<p>Why it's you. I heard you were come.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>Yes. I'm just in a minute or two.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">He sits down beside her.</div> + +<p>Robbie.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Well?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>Answer me one question. Aren't you a very poor farmer?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Well—I—I suppose I am.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>I knew you were. You're no good for selling cattle or going to market, or +looking after crops.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>You're very hard Jane to-night. What's put all that into your wee head?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>I've been listening to this and its been tellin' stories on you.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Aye and when its hangin' there dumb its speakin' to me, callin' to me. +Don't think I'm mad Jane but I can't stand it much longer. What makes them +hang it there to temp' me? Why? Just because they think they can make a few +miserable pounds, they'll keep it there makin' me a liar, a pledge breaker, +a man who can't keep his promise. I'll end it now. I'll smash it.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">He makes to take the fiddle out of her hands.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Resisting.</div> + +<p>No. No. I want to say—I want to ask something Robbie. What does it +say to you?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>What does it—Ach—I wonder would you laugh at me like the rest +if I told you.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Sitting closer and putting her arm about his neck.</div> + +<p>What does it say. Tell me. <i>I</i> would never laugh at you Robbie dear.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Hesitatingly.</div> + +<p>Ach—about—about takin' it and makin' a name for myself with it.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Bitterly.</div> + +<p>It sounds like fool talk doesn't it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>To my father and yours it would sound like that and Samuel James would +laugh at you, but he'd encourage you to believe in it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Let me break it then. Smash it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Determinedly.</div> + +<p>No. Look Robbie if I said it was whispering you the truth, what would you +say?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Surprised.</div> + +<p>I would say that it was true. But you never would.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Determinedly.</div> + +<p>I say it is the truth.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>You what? Ach you don't know what you say child. If I did take to it again, +look what would happen. My father would turn me out, and your father would +forbid me then ever lookin' at you again. Jane Graeme engaged to a +penniless fiddler, and she the best match in the whole countryside. I need +never think of you again Jane.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>I don't care what they bid. If you took to that fiddle and went away, would +you forget me soon?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>Forget you, Jane? What makes you think that? Sure you know I gave it up +sooner than lose you.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>Then take that fiddle and do what your heart tells you to. +I wondered often and often what it was that made you +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +so sad, and I know now. God made you a musician and not a farmer.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>And you? What would you do?</p> + +<div class="pchar">Jane.</div> + +<p>I know and trust some day God willing, you'll come back to me, rich and +famous enough to have them all at your feet. I know you will.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>God bless you wee girl for you're put a heart into me.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">They embrace. Mrs. Granahan comes in.</div> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>There. There. Bide a wee. Here they're all coming in for their tays.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>William John Granahan, Graeme, Taylor, Samuel James and Grandfather come +in. Robbie John goes over to fiddle and puts it into a case.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Puzzled.</div> + +<p>So you're at it again, are you? Well I suppose there's no harm in giving +Miss Graeme a tune, but I thought you were a man to your word.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Determinedly.</div> + +<p>Look here. I want you all to know I am goin' to try my luck with this.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Exultingly.</div> + +<p>You're goin' to lave us like to mak' money wi' it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>I'm goin' to try.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Mrs. Granahan.</div> + +<p>Robbie John are you daft. What wild nonsense are ye talkin' about. And you +to be married at Christmas and everythin' settled about you this very day.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>I am determined to do it. Nothin' can keep me back.</p> + +<div class="pchar">John Graeme.</div> + +<p>There. That's enough. My daughter jilted by a Granahan! Come home out o' +this Jane Graeme.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>He stamps his foot angrily and beckons her to come. Jane moves past Robbie +John where he is standing and then suddenly kisses him and goes out with +her father.</p></div> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="centerquot">Passionately.</div> + +<p>You see what you ha'e done Robert John Granahan. Broken your parents' +hearts, and made the name of the Granahans a disgrace to the countryside.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Wildly.</div> + +<p>Quick d—n ye before it's too late.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>My mind's made up. Give me the address of that Professor you told me of, +Mr. Taylor.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Taylor.</div> + +<p>You're a fool, Robbie.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Producing card and handing it to him.</div> + +<p>There. That's it.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>There's time yet, man. After John Graeme, and make it up wi' him. Swear you +were only makin' fun.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Robbie John.</div> + +<p>I stick by the fiddle.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Mad with anger.</div> + +<p>Then stick by the fiddle. And know if ever you are weary or ahungered or in +want, ye need nivir look me for any help.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Shouts.</div> + +<p>Out you go. Out. Don't dar one of you as much as till take his hand. Out. +Out the same as the beggar man gone, wi' the curse of your father on you.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Robbie John goes toward back and stands a moment as if in silent appeal at +the open door. Mrs. Granahan rushes forward to her husband as if to entreat +mercy. He angrily puts her away.</p></div> + +<p>Out. Out you go.</p> + + +<p style='text-align:center;'><span class="smcap"><b>Curtain.</b></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE.</h2> + + +<p><small>The same scene, about midnight. There is no light except that of one or two +candles and the turf fire. Grandfather seated at fire. William John +Granahan leaning despondently on table beside which he is seated. Samuel +James in his favourite seat on the top of the table. Wind, storm and rain +outside.</small></p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Aye. Aye. But its no use talkin' now. Ye might ha' been a wee bit the less +hasty.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<p>And who was goin' to thole yon conduck. It was too bad of him and after the +to-do we had over him this very day. Its a sore heartscald, Robbie John, +ye've been to me this day.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>Ach, sure its over. Its full time we were in our beds.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Viciously.</div> + +<p>You'd think he was dead and buried to hear the two of ye goin' on. Sure for +all know, he may be comin' back and a great name wi' him.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>That's you to the ground, ye cunnin' rascal. Keep him out at all costs.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Thunder and lightning.</div> + +<p>D'ye hear yon? To think o' that poor sowl wi' his wee bit o' a coat out in +the coul' and wet. If any harm come till him, Samuel James, know this, you +were the cause o' it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<div class="pchar">Samuel James.</div> + +<p>It was his own choosin'.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>His own choosin'. Who flattered him and led him on? Who kep' the fiddle +hangin' there and would let no one take it down, a continuin' temptation +till him? And you, William John Granahan, wi' your lust for money. Aye. +Lust for money. You couldn't abide him heartenin' up the house wi' a tune +or two, but ye'd brak the boy's heart sendin' him out till work again, and +him workin' as much as two of Samuel James there. Ye thought he was wastin' +time and money. D'ye think there's nothin' in this life beyond making money +above the rent. I tell you it's not the money alone that makes life worth +livin'. It's the wee things you think nothin' o', but that make your home a +joy to come back till, after a hard day's work. And you've sent out into +the coul and wet, the one that was makin' your home somethin' more than the +common. D'ye think them proud city folk will listen to his poor ould +ballads wi' the heart o' the boy singin' through them. Its only +us—its only us, I say, as knows the long wild nights, and the wet and +the rain and the mist o' nights on the boglands,—its only us I say, +could listen him in the right way,</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Sobbing.</div> + +<p>and ye knowed, right well ye knowed, that every string o' his fiddle was +kayed to the cryin' o' your own heart.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Half sobbing.</div> + +<p>There. There. God forgive me, my poor ould boy. I +did na know. Whist. Maybe if I say a word or two:—Oh +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +God forgive us this night our angry words, and ha'e marcy on my wayward +son, O Lord, and keep him safe from harm, and deliver him not unto the +adversary. Amen.</p> + +<div class="pchar">Grandfather.</div> + +<p>Amen. Aye. Aye. Ye done well. Let no the sun go down upon your wrath.</p> + +<div class="pchar">William John Granahan.</div> + +<div class="rightquot">Going to door.</div> + +<p>It's a coorse night.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">Pauses.</div> + +<p>I'll lave the door on the hesp.</p> + +<div class="rightquot">He unbolts the door.</div> + + +<p style='text-align:center;'><span class="smcap"><b>Curtain.</b></span><br /><br /><br /></p> + + +<p style='text-align:center;'><small><b>O'GORMAN AND COMPANY, PRINTINGHOUSE, GALWAY.</b></small></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><i>PRESS OPINIONS OF PERFORMANCES.</i></h2> + + +<p>"The Turn of the Road" ... is beyond question one of the most sterling +products of the Irish literary revival ever seen at the Abbey Theatre. +Whether depicting a matchmaker like the astute Mrs. Granahan ... or +reproducing the conversation of farmers just returned from fair or market, +discussing parish affairs or speculating on harvest prospects, the author +is equally delightful and successful.—<i>Irish Times.</i></p> + +<p>The "Turn of the Road" ... is one of the most successful pieces ever +written dealing with Irish life. The author "Rutherford Mayne" has drawn +his characters with a master's hand and they stand out clear and +distinct.—<i>Freeman's Journal.</i></p> + +<p>The play was of engrossing interest and was a masterpiece of composition +which speaks hopefully of the work to be expected of the Ulster School of +Drama.—<i>Daily Express.</i></p> + +<p>"The Turn of the Road" is a brilliantly written comedy characteristic of +the County of Down.—<i>Irish Independent.</i></p> + +<p>The charm of this little play is delightful and natural; its comedy is +beautifully balanced and its pathos ... superb and admirably +restrained.—<i>Evening Herald.</i></p> + +<p>"The Turn of the Road" is a clever and poetic conception clothed in smart +effective County Down dialogue with many bright and sparkling lines. The +significance, the pathos, and inherent beauty of the concluding scene is a +piece of consummate art.—<i>Belfast Newsletter.</i></p> + +<p>The author ... builds his scenes out of simple materials but always with +the eye of a craftsman for striking effects and incidents.... The "Return +from Market," "The Marriage Bargain," and the last scene ... have the +illusion of life, and are in a phrase—which, though blunted by +misuse, expresses a real need in Irish Art—"racy of the +soil"—<i>The Northern Whig.</i></p> + +<p>"The Turn of the Road" is a cleverly constructed picture of life in a +County Down farmhouse, evidently drawn by one who knew his characters or +their prototypes in the flesh.—<i>Irish News.</i></p> + +<p>It is a play that transports the hedge rows, the farm kitchen with its +dresser and turf fire, and above all the real vernacular right into our +preception more vividly than an experience. The author has written a +remarkable fine play of life, humour, and realism.—<i>Nomad's Weekly +and Belfast Critic.</i></p> + +<p>Into the brief compass of his two acts Mr. Rutherford Mayne has compressed +the age-long attitude of Ulster towards the arts.... Light is breaking +after the long Arctic night. The very existence of this poignant play +pregnantly indicates that the old order is changing and must soon give +place to the new.—<i>The Lady of the House.</i></p> + +<p>The more we see this peasant drama in two scenes and an epilogue, the more +we admire its unpretending art and its real greatness.—<i>Belfast +Evening Telegraph.</i></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Turn of the Road, by Rutherford Mayne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TURN OF THE ROAD *** + +***** This file should be named 31044-h.htm or 31044-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/0/4/31044/ + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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