ACT I
JOHN SCALLY’S kitchen. Large and comfortably furnished. A large table and a small one, a number of chairs, an old lounge, and a tall cupboard with glass doors above and wooden doors below. The upper part is packed with china, the under part with linen, etc.
At the back are two windows and a half-glass door opening to the farmyard. Another door left communicates with the hall and the other rooms. Fireplace on the right.
It is a July morning. A strong sun is shining on the back windows.
PEGGY SCALLY is doing laundry-work at the larger table. She is an attractive country girl about twenty-six years old.
PEGGY. I wish this day was finished!
After a hasty glance at the back windows she takes several pieces of jewellery from her pocket and places them on a paper. Before rolling them up she slips a ring on and off her finger, then puts it with the rest and ties the parcel.
If he would just come now and have it over!
HUGH O’CAHAN enters on tiptoe at the left. He is twenty-five years old, dressed in horsey attire which has seen better days, and has an old riding whip in his hand. He wears neither a collar nor tie.
O’C. I was listening, Peggy, to make sure you were alone, and heard you wishing he’d come. Am I the party?
PEGGY. Hugh! how did you get in?
O’C. By the old route, dear; the parlour window.
PEGGY. I suppose you knocked down the plant?
O’C. You and that plant, Peggy! I’ve only touched it once in four years, and that night there was an eclipse of the moon.
PEGGY. Are you riding?
O’C. No, worse luck. For the first morning in my life I’ve no horse to ride. Just this whip left.… I wonder how long it is since the O’Cahans had no horse? How long since the stable at Rush Hill was last empty? It must be a good few hundred years.
PEGGY. You’d a horse yesterday.
O’C. Yes, Havoc. But he, poor thing, was removed last night after dark. He went away as sad as a Christian. That left me without a four-footed animal, save the cat. I’m a pretty handy fellow, Peggy, but I can’t ride a cat.
PEGGY. Did anyone see you coming in the window?
O’C. Not a soul, Peggy. Your mother’s feeding young calves in the paddock, your father’s driving out a long string of cows, and hours ago I saw your brothers and sisters going down the moss road to work. They were singing like birds.
PEGGY. They’ve gone over to the other farm to make hay.
O’C. Their industry is shocking.
PEGGY. Nobody can say that about you, Hugh.
O’C. That’s the style. Are you set on giving me a final lecture? A few nice proverbs on the day I’m to be auctioned out would improve me. Go on, Peggy. Squander your good advice.
PEGGY. I’ve no intention of lecturing, Hugh. A ruined man needs no lecture. He’s a lecture to look at.
O’C. A ruined man at twenty-five! Talk sense, Peggy. You can’t ruin a man at that age—not if you broke him in two. I’ve had my fling, Peggy, it’s all over but the auction, and I don’t regret it.
PEGGY. Just so. [Takes out packet] I’ve your ring and presents here. I want to return them.
O’C. Ah, this is cruel! I hadn’t thought of this. But Lady Fate doesn’t do her work slipshod. She keeps the big hammer for the last blow.… But you might keep these things, Peggy—just to spite the hag.
PEGGY. Impossible, Hugh. You must take them back. They’re valuable, and you may need the money.
O’C. That’s true. I may need the money. [Takes packet and looks round.] Have you no fire here?
PEGGY. We let the fire go out after breakfast.
O’C. And where, if it’s a fair question, do you heat your irons?
PEGGY. There’s a fire over in the old kitchen.
O’C. [going towards back door]. I’ll add some fuel to it.
PEGGY [stops him]. You mustn’t go out there, Hugh! Mother would see you. Don’t be a fool.… I mean don’t be reckless.
O’C. [comes back]. Nothing foolish about me, Peggy. I’ve always been rather famous for my wisdom. [Weighing packet] This was a prudent investment! Four hundred pounds, I think. Do you remember the day I got these trinkets, Peggy?
PEGGY. No.
O’C. You mean yes. I remember it too. I’d sold a mare and foal at a thousand guineas. I was under the impression that you and I were engaged, and I rushed off and bought these family jewels.… ’Twas all a mistake. My mistake.
PEGGY. Stop, Hugh. Please. I remember everything far too well.
O’C. And is this the end of the story? Somehow I can’t believe it. Can you?
PEGGY. We’ve both got to believe it. It’s the only way to end it. You’re free and so am I.
O’C. Well, I must say you’ve cut it down pretty fine. You’ve left it to within an hour of the auction to deliver the knock-out.
PEGGY. I left it as long as I could, Hugh—till there wasn’t a gleam of hope anywhere.
O’C. The auction wasn’t enough of a tragedy for one day! It needed this to finish it.… Here, will you take these things back?
PEGGY. I can’t, Hugh. And I always told you it was folly to put so much money in those presents. Something at half a crown would have done me just as well.
O’C. Perhaps. But I didn’t want a half-crown sweetheart. Nor a half-crown wife either. A woman at that price is usually very dear in the end. [Offers packet] Here, Peggy. Take them and keep them. They’ll remind you of a very foolish fellow.…
PEGGY. I can’t, Hugh.
O’C. You mean you won’t?
PEGGY. I won’t.
O’C. [flings packet across kitchen]. To blazes with that! And with every romantic thing on earth.
PEGGY [picks it up]. I see now what you want. You want mother to come in. You want to make trouble for me.… Here, put this in your pocket. You can throw it in the river.
O’C. You live as near the river as I do. Drown them yourself. Make jam of them if you like.
PEGGY. Well, you needn’t storm. I’ll find some means of returning them. [She puts packet in her pocket.]
O’C. I’ll tell you how to dispose of them. Hang them on Joseph Kilroy. They’ll improve yon cow’s face of his.
PEGGY [wincing]. What do you mean, Hugh?
O’C. Ah, you must think Hugh’s mighty green. It’s a wonder the goats don’t mistake me for brussels sprouts.
PEGGY. You can be very nasty.
O’C. Never without reason. You’ve kept Joseph Kilroy tied to your apron-strings to see how things would pan out at Rush Hill. He walks after you like a sheep. I saw you together last night. Is that nasty?
PEGGY. Hugh, you ought to’ve more sense. You never look at my side of it at all. I’ve three sisters and three brothers, all single. That’s too many single people in one house.
O’C. Well, why don’t they all get married?
PEGGY. They were waiting for me to break the ice, and I was waiting for—well, I don’t want to hurt you.
O’C. That’s very considerate.… Didn’t I want you to marry me two years ago? And who objected?
PEGGY. Everybody objected. They saw the pace you were going and knew how it would end. Everybody could see that but yourself.
O’C. You were all great prophets! The Wise Men of the East weren’t a patch on you. But among you you played a pretty safe game anyhow. When I got a good price for a colt your mother smiled like a basket of cats, but when I buried one she frowned like a gargoyle.
PEGGY. Whether you got a good price for a colt or buried it made no difference to me. You know that very well, but in your ugly mood you won’t admit it.
O’C. Well, it doesn’t matter a pin now anyway. The auction’s at eleven o’clock. I was sorry this morning, but I’m glad now it’s so near. Sale or no sale, I’m clearing out to-night.
PEGGY. Do you mind telling me where you’re going?
O’C. I wouldn’t mind telling anybody if I knew myself. But I’ve no plans. I may go to South America or Australia. Some place where the horse isn’t doomed for another generation.
PEGGY. You and the horse!
O’C. Yes, me and the horse! You’ll have no trouble on that score with Joseph Kilroy. He couldn’t lead a horse to the forge.
PEGGY. All the better for himself.
O’C. As I said, I can go wherever I please. I’ve no home ties. I’m that rare bird you often hear about in Ireland but seldom see—the last man of his race.
PEGGY. Well, Hugh, mother ’ill be in soon. I must say good-bye.
O’C. Is that the whole farewell? Not even a handshake?
PEGGY. What’s the good of it?
O’C. None. It takes two to get the good of it. [Buttoning his jacket] I apologise, Peggy, for having crossed your path.
PEGGY. And I for crossing yours.
O’C. You crossed mine at a critical time. I was twenty and riding straight for the cliff. If you’d followed up your success and married me there’d be no auction to-day.
PEGGY. If!
O’C. You needn’t have drawn my attention to that “if.” I know all about it. My whole life has been a series of “ifs.” If an old woman hadn’t put out her washing on a certain day, I wouldn’t have been an orphan at three years old. If a gust of wind hadn’t blown her washing across the road, my father’s horse would have trotted on home.…
PEGGY. Stop, Hugh! Please. I know the rest.
O’C. If they’d kept the news from mother for three days she might have survived the shock, and so might the infant brother.…
PEGGY. Hugh!
O’C. If I hadn’t missed a train by two seconds I’d have a profession to-day. If Uncle Hugh hadn’t run to catch a train by two seconds, he’d be in Rush Hill and no auction to-day.
PEGGY. You’re only reciting every man’s story, Hugh … and many a woman’s.
O’C. It’s all blind and stupid and insolent. But one needn’t quarrel with such despotism. I’m going, Peggy. If I don’t see you again—good luck, good health, and good-bye. [He is going off left.]
PEGGY. A moment, Hugh. Here’s a clean collar. You look ghastly without a collar.
O’C. [turns back]. Gad, but that’s just like you, Peggy!… They say it’s unlucky to turn back, but I think I can risk it. [Putting on collar] This is like dressing a man before he goes out to be hanged.
PEGGY. I’ll get you a clean handkerchief. [She gets one, rolls the jewellery in it and puts it in his pocket.]
O’C. Sing something, Peggy.
PEGGY. I don’t feel that way inclined. Sing something yourself.
O’C [sings]. “Down by the salley gardens, my love and I did meet….”
PEGGY. Hugh O’Cahan, are you mad?
O’C. No, nor sad. You challenged me to sing.
PEGGY. God knows how men are built! I think if I were in your shoes this morning I should drown myself.
O’C. A lot of good that would do. The old world would go on spinning as before. I don’t suppose they’d postpone the auction [putting on the tie]. I believe a great many people ought to be drowned at baptism, Peggy. It’s about their only chance of ever seeing the gates of heaven, and ’twould save a lot of trouble down here later on. But there’s no sense in letting a fellow grow up wild and then expect him to take a near cut to the everlasting devil. I prefer Australia.
PEGGY. Don’t talk wild, Hugh. You know I didn’t mean it.
O’C. Are you getting afraid I might take a dip? You needn’t. I’ll die in my own comfortable bed at 103, surrounded by—that’ll depend on what I have to leave the watchers. No cash—no tears, no prayers, no flowers.… How does this collar and tie sit me?
PEGGY. All right. They improve you.
O’C. Well, thank you for them very much. I’m off. Vale. [He goes out left, singing] “She told me to take life easy, as the leaves grow on the tree….”
PEGGY [listens]. I hope he doesn’t knock down the plant.… He never asked me to go with him. [Listens.] No, he’s out past it.… He might have kissed me, just once. [She works quietly and shakes the water from her eyes.] Well, well!
MRS. SCALLY comes in back. She is a sharp looking woman, aged sixty, an ex-schoolmistress. She has a paper and some mail in her hand.
MRS. S. Did I not hear voices, Peggy?
PEGGY. There’s nobody here, mother. Is the post past?
MRS. S. Yes.
PEGGY. Nothing for me?
MRS. S. Nothing. [Glancing at her] You’ve been crying.
PEGGY. That’s nothing new.
MRS. S. Nothing new! What have you got to cry about?
PEGGY. I don’t really know. The tears just come, and then I just let them come. It’s very silly.
MRS. S. That blackguard O’Cahan is likely to come over here to say good-bye. He’s going away after the auction. You mustn’t see him.
PEGGY. Hugh O’Cahan is no blackguard! He’s worth a gross of the people who’ve helped to drag him down.
MRS. S. Oh, indeed! Is that the way of it? Are you going to turn on me because he’s left you in the lurch?
PEGGY. I’m sorry, mother. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. But you mightn’t try to hurt me. My three sisters can sneer quite enough without your assistance.
MRS. S. I said Hugh O’Cahan was a blackguard, and I repeat it.
PEGGY. What exactly do you mean by a blackguard, mother?
MRS. S. A worthless scoundrel.
PEGGY. O’Cahan’s a fool. A fool to’ve gone in for horse-dealing with a pack of thieves. That’s the worst can be said about him. If he were vicious would ever I have spoken to him?
MRS. S. Perhaps not—if you knew it.… When you finish what you’re at, prepare the front bedroom. Your uncle has arrived in London from the Far East and is coming to see us. Professor Tim.
PEGGY. Pardon me, mother. You oughtn’t to call him a professor. He isn’t a real professor.
MRS. S. Well, of course, you with your convent training will know better than your mother. What then do you call him?
PEGGY. If he can be called anything in particular it’s a diviner.
MRS. S. Dear bless me. A diviner?
PEGGY. Yes, mother. A water-diviner. A person who can locate water with a hazel rod is called a diviner.
MRS. S. Well, while he remains here, he’s a professor. That’ll give the neighbours something to talk about.
PEGGY. I should say it will.
MRS. S. It’s twenty years since he was last here. He was then studying Geology. If by this time he isn’t a fully-fledged professor—I’m mistaken.… I think you ought to be rather pleased that your mother’s only brother is a cut above the ordinary. Your father’s people aren’t much. Pig-dealers.
JOHN SCALLY comes in back. He is a sturdy little man with a thick brown beard, and ten years younger than his wife. He carries the salley switch with which he drove out the cows.
JOHN. By the hokey, Briget, this is grand news! Outrageous. When’s Professor Tim coming?
MRS. S. He doesn’t say when. He’s just arrived in London from Africa. He may come here any day.
JOHN. I’ll be outrageous glad to see Professor Tim. Glad on your account, Briget, and glad on his own.… But, three guesses, who’s coming down our lane at this minute?
MRS. S. Himself! The Professor.
JOHN. Wrong, Briget. Guess again.
MRS. S. Ach, don’t annoy me! Who’s coming?
JOHN. Mr. James J. Kilroy, the Rural Councillor, and his son Joseph. Hey! there’s more news for you.
MRS. S. Well, keep on your head, John. We don’t owe the Kilroys anything.
JOHN. They’re driving. An atrocious fine pony and rubber-wheel trap. I wonder what they want here, Briget. Such grand people.
MRS. S. They’ll probably be able to explain that when they come in. If their grandeur frightens you, it doesn’t frighten me. Go and meet them and take them round to the hall door. And no scraping or touching your hat to them. Don’t be a serf.
JOHN. You’re a wonderful woman [going]. Outrageous.
MRS. S. Stop a minute, John. How often have I told you to stop using those two big words, outrageous and atrocious? Flinging them round you like paving-stones, and the whole parish laughing at you.
JOHN. It’s just a habit, Briget. Only a habit. I’ve tried my best to drop them, but it beats me. I must try again. [Goes out back.]
MRS. S. Is the parlour tidy, Peggy?
PEGGY. Yes. I dusted it and opened the windows.
MRS. S. Did you know these people were coming?
PEGGY. I thought they might drop in going past to the auction.
MRS. S. Why, of course, that’s it. They’re going to the auction. Go and let them in.
PEGGY. Ah, mother, let them in yourself. I’m dirty.
MRS. S. So am I. But I’m clean enough for the Kilroys. [Goes out left.]
PEGGY. Now for the match-making! [Voices are heard in the yard. She goes to the window.] Oh, holy father!
JOHN ushers in through the back door JAMES KILROY and son JOSEPH.
JOHN. The good-woman’ll kill me for bringing you in the back door, Mr. Kilroy. She said I was to take you round to the front. We’ve a fine hall door, sir. Varnished and all. Outrageous.
KILROY. This is first rate, John. First rate. Good morning, Miss Scally.
PEGGY. Good morning, Mr. Kilroy.
JOSEPH. Mornin’, Pegness!
PEGGY. Good morning, Joseph.
MRS. SCALLY comes in.
JOSEPH. Mornin’, mother Scally!
MRS. S. Good morning, everybody. I told John to take you round to the front, Mr. Kilroy. But you mightn’t try to tell John anything.
KILROY. This is first rate, Mrs. Scally. First rate. [Inspects it] Very clean and neat and up-to-date. Sanitary.
MRS. S. Indeed it isn’t clean at all. We must get the whole house cleaned down from top to bottom, for my brother—the Professor—is going to pay us a visit shortly. He’s in London at present. He hasn’t been home for twenty years.
KILROY [takes off hat]. I never knew you’d a brother a professor. I never heard of him.
MRS. S. Oh, indeed, yes. Tim’s a professor. Won’t you sit down?
KILROY. Thanks. [Sits.]
JOSEPH. I’ll make myself at home over here. [Sits on table beside PEGGY and teases her awkwardly.]
KILROY. This scoundrel O’Cahan, the bank’s selling him up at last.
MRS. S. Yes, the auction’s at eleven o’clock.
JOHN. Aye, as Briget says, at eleven o’clock. Allison’s the auctioneer.…
MRS. S. Silence, John. [To Kilroy] He has nothing left to sell but the land. Not a four-footed beast about the house.…
PEGGY. Excuse me, Joseph. [She goes out back.]
JOSEPH. Will I go with you, Peggy? [No answer.] I’ll risk it anyway. [Goes out back.]
MRS. S. [smelling a rat]. Joseph’s getting a fine young man.
JOHN. Outrageous.
KILROY. Between ourselves, Joseph’s a bit of a playboy. No real vice, you know, but reckless and wild and full of animal spirits. I sent him to an agricultural college, but they had to send him home. He was just that wild. He put himself at the head of a band of gentlemen’s sons and half wrecked the college, and then wrecked the town.
MRS. S. [laughs]. I wouldn’t think a ha’porth of that. Students are full of mischief.
JOHN. Aye, as Briget says, full of life. Fine fellows, Mr. Kilroy. Atrocious.
KILROY. Now, John Scally, I want no more “mistering.” You and I kneel in the same church, and after myself you’re the best respected people in the parish. Call me James.
MRS. S. That’s what I like to hear. No pride or nonsense.
KILROY. I’m going over to this auction. What condition’s the place in, John? I haven’t been up to Rush Hill for years.
JOHN. The sun never warmed a better place, James. Never. Two hundred acres of land like a carrot-bed. You could sow at Christmas.…
KILROY. I know the land’s good. But what about the house? They tell me it’s in ruins.…
JOHN. It’s not in very good re—
MRS. S. Silence, John.… The house inside is in ruins, James. O’Cahan had a band of ruffians like himself playing cards there, and last winter they burnt down the stairs and most of the woodwork.…
JOHN. For firewood, James. As Briget can tell you.
KILROY. Well, to come to the point. The Bank has four thousand pounds against it, and—but this is very private—the Bank wants me to buy it.
MRS. S. Buy it, James. Buy it. You’ll never rue the day you bought Rush Hill. Only that we bought a second farm last year, we’d buy it ourselves.
JOHN. As Briget says, buy it, James. Buy it. It’s an outrageous fine sate.…
MRS. S. Silence, John.… It could be made a fine place, James.
KILROY. Well, I’ve a bit of a plan worked out in my head. I’ll submit it to you, Mrs. Scally, for I’ve a deal of faith in your judgment.
JOHN. So well you may, James. She’s a head like an almanac.
MRS. S. Silence, John. Let me hear your plan, James. Whatever you say here is private.
KILROY. I know that or I wouldn’t broach it. A public man has to know who he’s talking to.
MRS. S. Very true.
JOHN. Very, as Briget says.
KILROY. We were speaking about my son Joseph. He’s twenty-one years old this morning.
MRS. S. Bless him, I didn’t think he was near that.
JOHN. Amen. I didn’t think he was sixteen.
KILROY. Joseph comes into his legacy this morning—two thousand pounds. His aunt’s money that died ten years ago.
MRS. S. I remember when she died. God guard him, it’s a lot of money.
JOHN. Amen. As Briget says, it’s a mint.
KILROY. Pay good attention both of you to what follows. Seems Joseph attended a Gaelic class last winter in somebody’s barn.
MRS. S. In Cassidy’s barn. Peggy was there too.
KILROY. The story goes that Joseph noticed Peggy there and became attracted by her.
MRS. S. We never heard that before.
JOHN. We did not indeed, sir, or we mightn’t have allowed it.
MRS. S. Silence, John. I didn’t mean it in that sense. Peggy Scally’s good enough for any man in the parish to speak to. I only said we didn’t know that she and Joseph were friendly, and we didn’t.
KILROY. Shake hands, Briget. [They shake.] I agree with every word you say. Peggy Scally’s a match for the best man in this constituency—and that man happens to be my son Joseph. I hope that’s not bragging.
JOHN. Aye! [He is displeased.]
MRS. S. [smiling]. That was very well put, James. I read all your speeches at the Council and you always hit the nail on the head.
KILROY. Thanks, Mrs. Scally. I’m ten years at that Council Board, and that’s the first bit of criticism that ever entirely pleased me. You’re a brainy woman, Briget.
JOHN. Aye!
KILROY. Now, prepare yourselves for a shock. Joseph told his mother and me last night, plump and plain, that he means to marry Peggy Scally or die in the attempt.
MRS. S. Goodness gracious me! That’s a bombshell.… [letting herself go]. Mercy save us again.… I’m dizzy.… John, d’ye hear what he says?
JOHN. Aye!
KILROY. At first his mother—and indeed myself—objected most strenuously. There’s no use in denying it. But he’s a Kilroy. He gave us till this morning to consent, or hand him out his two thousand pounds and he’d suit himself. That’s the sort of a boy Joseph is.
MRS. S. [on her dignity]. May we ask, Mr. Kilroy, why you and your wife objected so strenuously to the match?
JOHN. Hey! That’s a good question, Briget. Outrageous.
KILROY. And a very natural question, too. But when I submit the reason I know you’ll appreciate it. Both his mother and myself understood that Peggy was engaged to Hugh O’Cahan.
JOHN. Aye. [Sulks again.]
MRS. S. There never was anything serious between Peggy and Hugh O’Cahan, and I as strenuously objected to anything that might have been.… Is that true, John?
JOHN. Aye!
KILROY. That satisfies me entirely, Briget. I told Mrs. Kilroy it was only a rumour. But she was uneasy. You see the legacy come by her sister.…
MRS. S. Well, till your wife comes over here and tells me out of her own mouth that she’s satisfied, there’ll be no match—not if Joseph owned a million.
JOHN. Hey, James! What do you think of that? This lady of mine doesn’t mince words.
KILROY. I didn’t expect this, Briget. But it has to be met. When the Council gets into a fix I have to get them out of it. [Thinks.] Listen, Briget. What’s the matter with you coming over to our place and talking things over with Mrs. Kilroy? I’ll give you all the assistance I can.…
MRS. S. I’ll want no assistance, James. I won’t go.
JOHN. Hey!
KILROY [slowly]. Well, maybe I’ll be able to manage Mrs. Kilroy myself. You know what a mother is, Briget, where her oldest son is concerned. She maybe had something bigger in her eye for Joseph.
MRS. S. She may’ve had something bigger but she’d nothing better in her eye then Peggy Scally. And you can tell your wife I said so.
JOHN. Holy tattler! that’s the best yet. Honour where honour’s due. Outrageous, Briget.
KILROY. You’re making it very hard for me, Briget. You’ve no conception of my difficulty.…
JOHN. I think I understand it, James.…
MRS. S. Silence, John.… There needn’t be any difficulty at all, James. If my daughter’s not good enough for your wife there’s no harm done. And if your wife’s coming, James, bring her to-night, for the Professor may be here to-morrow and he mightn’t want to meet strangers.…
KILROY [slaps his leg]. That’s the solution of the problem! There’s no problem without a solution. Mrs. Kilroy has a weakness for distinguished people. She’ll want to hear all about the Professor from his sister. What time to-night, Briget, would suit your convenience?
MRS. S. About six.
KILROY. Good. She’ll come in that door on the stroke of six. And now for the next item. If Joseph and Peggy make a match of it, what about buying them O’Cahan’s farm? Eh? Rush Hill.
JOHN [gasps]. Hey! Rush Hill.
MRS. S. James Kilroy, you’re a big, bold, clear-headed man!
KILROY. Are you only finding that out now, Briget? The people have been saying that for years.
MRS. S. I always knew you had ability. Your wife had none.
KILROY. Quite right, Briget. And your husband had none. No offence, John.
JOHN. Oh, lord no, James! Nothing in that to take offence at. I never put up to’ve ability. I’d no need of ability. I’ve always made my living with my hands and feet.
KILROY. Well, we know now where we stand. The next is a question of money. If I buy Rush Hill will you stock it, Briget?
JOHN. Hey! That’s one for yourself, Briget.
MRS. S. That’s a very important item, James. It would take five or six hundred pounds to stock it.
KILROY. ’Twould take five. Could you give Peggy that much hard money without hurting yourselves? It would mean big matches for your other daughters.
JOHN. Aye!
MRS. S. There’s something in that, James. But if we give Peggy five hundred, the others might expect the same, and we couldn’t afford it.… Tell me this, James. If Joseph’s legacy buys Rush Hill, where do you come in? You wouldn’t be out a penny.
JOHN. Hey! That’s one for you, James.
KILROY. Joseph’s legacy won’t wink at buying it, Briget. We’ll be very snug if another thousand buys it. I’ll have to raise that thousand myself.… I mean I’ll have to go security for it.
MRS. S. Well, buy it, James, and we’ll stock it. I want to see Peggy and Joseph in Rush Hill.
KILROY [gets up and wipes his brow]. I’d no idea that arranging a match was so difficult. It’s a terrible strain. [Looks watch.] You’ll come over with me to the auction, John, and we’ll look about us before it begins.…
JOHN. I’d as lief not go near it, James. I hate these auction-outs.
MRS. S. Silence, John. Get your good coat and hat.
JOHN. The neighbours is going to boycott it.…
KILROY. The more it’s boycotted, John, the better for you and me.
JOHN. Then let’s all boycott it.
KILROY. No, but let us go and bid a wicked bad price, then I can deal with the Bank on my own terms.
MRS. S. James Kilroy, I’ll speak out what’s in my mind. You’re the best business man I ever come across, and I’m married to the worst.…
JOHN. Ah, Briget, Briget! That’s shockin’ unfair!
KILROY. I don’t want to boast, Briget, [expanding his chest] but if I’d got a woman of your calibre this parish wouldn’t have held me.
MRS. S. I’m certain of it.
JOHN. Ah, by the hedges, that’s cruelty to animals!… Where’s my hat and coat, Briget?
MRS. S. I’ll get them for you. Come into the other room, James. I want to treat you.… Come along, John.
JOHN. Aye, at your heel!
They are going off when JOSEPH comes in back linked on PEGGY.
JOSEPH. Hi! look at this. You’re missing all the sights.
The others turn round.
KILROY. Good man, Joseph! He’s won her. He’s a Kilroy. You couldn’t stop the breed with a mountain battery!
JOHN. Aye!
MRS. S. Mercy, the cheek of young people nowadays! Aren’t you pair ashamed of yourselves?
JOSEPH. We glory in it! Hurrah!
KILROY [shouts]. He’s a Kilroy! Thunder and lightning couldn’t daunt the breed! Didn’t you wreck the college, Joseph?
JOSEPH. Aye, and the town ’twas in.
KILROY. Will you buy Rush Hill, Joseph?
JOSEPH. You’ll buy it and I’ll pay it!
KILROY. Well put. And Peggy’s mother’ll stock it.
JOSEPH. Well put again. Go on, now, and leave us alone.
MRS. S. [laughing]. He’s a Kilroy right enough.… Come on, men. We’re not wanted here.
KILROY, JOHN and MRS. S. go into the room.
JOSEPH. It’s all settled, Peggy. We’re as good as married. Amn’t I a hero?
PEGGY [removing his arm]. And a modest soul. [Takes up iron.]
JOSEPH [sheepishly]. Awh, Peggy.… Awh, now.… Just one. Gwon.
PEGGY. Just one what?
JOSEPH [suffocating]. Awh, you know yourself.… It starts with a K.
PEGGY. Gracious! I think I know what you mean. What a desperate suggestion. What would your mother say, Joseph?
JOSEPH. Awh, sure she wouldn’t know.
PEGGY. But she might suspect.… Better run no risks, Joseph.
JOSEPH [drawing closer]. Let her … let her suspect.…
PEGGY. Mind the iron, Joseph. It’s hot.…
He tries to kiss her and leaps back.
JOSEPH. Moses, Moses! I’m roasted! [Licks his hand.] If you weren’t my own Peggy I’d say you tried to roast me!
PEGGY. I’m sorry, Joseph. I told you it was pretty hot.…
JOSEPH. Awh, what do I care about a burn? I’d ram my hand into the flames of the fire if I took a notion.…
PEGGY. You’re fearfully wild, Joseph.
JOSEPH. Awh, you’ll soon tame me, Peggy. Tell me again. Isn’t all over between you and O’Cahan?
PEGGY. It’s all over, Joseph, only I haven’t quite forgotten him yet.
JOSEPH. Awh, you’ll soon forget all about him. You’ll soon think of nothing in the whole world but me. O’Cahan was a rap.…
O’CAHAN stalks in the back door. He has the packet in his hand and the whip.
O’C. There your presents, Peggy [throws packet on table]. I found them in my pocket. Make jam of them. [Wheels on JOSEPH] Who’s a rap?
JOSEPH [cowering]. Mind, my father’s in the room!
O’C. Call him out.
JOSEPH. I’ll soon call him if you lay a finger on me!
O’C. [hits him a scud with the whip]. There! Call out the Rural Councillor.
JOSEPH [backing away]. I want no fighting with you.
O’C. No, you’re a Kilroy. You burn down colleges and paint towns red in your sleep. [Draws off.] For two straws I’d put a lip on you!
JOSEPH [receding]. My father’ll writ you! He’ll writ you. You’ll not hit me with a whip.…
O’C. Bring out your father. I’ll put a lip on him too.…
PEGGY. Hugh, for goodness’ sake don’t make a scene. It isn’t worth it.
JOSEPH [hugging the room door]. You’ll see my father at the auction. He’ll buy you up, stump and rump.
O’C. And who’ll pay?
JOSEPH. I’ll pay! I’m into my legacy this morning. Two thousand gold sovereigns.
O’C. Listen to me, gurnet. Your father has been swelling about on that money for the last ten years. You’ll have some fun getting your two thousand gold sovereigns, or I’m a fish. That’s why he brought you here this morning—to stop your mouth with a woman. [To PEGGY] Now, Peggy. There’s more news for you. You’ve broken with a bankrupt man to marry a bankrupt prig.
JOSEPH. Awh, you’ll see that at the auction.…
PROFESSOR TIM comes in at back. He is an oldish man, in seafaring clothes, and looks an incarnate toper.
PROF. [swaying on his legs]. Hallo! How’s all here?
PEGGY. All well, thank you. Do you take meal or coppers?
PROF. I take neither meal nor coppers, sweetheart. But you can gimme a kiss if you like. Gum, I won’t object.…
O’C. [draws out to floor him, but stops]. Eh! Gad, that old face of yours looks homely.…
PROF. And begum, mister, that fist of yours looks awful homely to me. You draw out to scatter a man like an O’Cahan.
O’C. Exactly. O’Cahan of Rush Hill.
PROF. Sorry. Your pony and trap’s in trouble down the lane. It’s turned turtle in a ditch.…
JOSEPH. It’s mine … mine.… [Runs out back.]
PROF. [looking around]. I wonder to Gawd am I in the wrong shop after all! Whose bungalow’s this?
O’C. You’re all right, Professor. This is John Scally’s bungalow.…
PEGGY. What! Professor! Oh, sacred trust!
PROF. Whoa, gal. Don’t be so obvious. [To O’C.] Who’s this exclamatory female?
O’C. Your own niece, Professor. Miss Peggy Scally.
PROF. Hallo, sweetheart! Gum, I’ve travelled seven times round the world and never seen a sweeter face. [Hobbles nearer PEGGY.] Shake hands, pigeon, with uncle Tim. The old Professor.…
PEGGY. Go away! Keep back! [Screams.] Mother! mother!
MRS. S. comes in.
PROF. Hallo, sister Briget. Gum, you haven’t aged an hour. Re-markable.
MRS. S. [stunned]. Aaaaaah!
O’C. Sister Briget doesn’t seem able to place you, Professor. You must have changed a little yourself since you were here.…
PROF. Gum, man, I’ve been near dead a dozen times since that. Malaria in Nigeria, yellow-jack in Panama, snake-bite in Siam, and various other accidents by land and sea.…
O’C. And liquor.
PROF. No, sir. I’m a strong temperance man. A bit of a temperance crank, in fact. [Chuckles.] Accidents by land and sea and soda water.
MRS. S. So after raking the gutters of the world you’ve come back to see us!
PROF. Gum, it’s about time I’d pay my respects. Why it must be twenty years since I lookt you up.…
MRS. S. Well, you’ve looked us up at last. You’ve seen me, and I’ve seen you. Let that do you for the rest of your natural life. There’s the door. Step out and don’t come back. We harbour no rakes here—young or old.
PROF. [astonished]. Gum, this is a surprise! This is a nice reception to give the Professor brother after a lifetime abroad. It’s downright unfriendly.…
O’C. A little chilly.
PROF. A little chilly! Mister, it’s frost and snow.
MRS. S. Master Hugh, if you don’t hurry home you’ll not be in time for your auction.
O’C. Thanks, madam. I’m off. I’m not as far down as I thought. [Goes out back.]
MRS. S. You ruffian! what brought you back here in that condition?
PROF. Don’t ask double-barrelled questions, sister. My object in coming here and the condition I arrive in are two different things. Take it point by point.
MRS. S. What brought you here at all?
PROF. For a holiday. A complete rest.
MRS. S. Well, you won’t rest here! Go and take a holiday where you belong. Step out that door and never show your face again.…
PROF. [totters over and sits on table]. I’m awful tired … been travelling a deal lately.…
MRS. S. [exasperated]. Will you step out—before I pitch you out the door?
PROF. Pitch me out the door! You didn’t pitch me out the morning you married Johnny Scally … when I laid a hundred pounds in your lap.… Why, bust you, ’twas that hundred gave you and Johnny a start.
MRS. S. [a little subdued]. I’ll give you a few shillings and you’ll catch the first train. My family’s all grown up and you wouldn’t want to affront us.
PROF. Affront you? I’m not going to affront anybody. I’m going to have a nice, quiet, respectable holiday along the moss edges.… Gum, I want to pick some white heather.…
JOHN, in black coat and hat, comes in, followed by KILROY. MRS. S. stands in front of PROF. to hide him.
KILROY. Where’s Joseph?
PEGGY. He ran down the lane. Something happened the pony.…
PROF. It’s turned turtle in a ditch.…
KILROY. Dang it all! [Runs out back.]
PROF. [pushing Mrs. S. aside]. Stand away back! What are you crowding me up for?
JOHN. Who the hedges is this, Briget?
PROF. Hallo, Johnny! Gum, you stand the years like a brass button. Greetings.
JOHN. By the holy, it’s the Professor! Lord save us, such a case! Such a wreck.…
PROF. Don’t be so obvious, Johnny. A man don’t look his best after a long journey.… I’m tired.…
JOHN. Ah, poor Tim.…
MRS. S. Not another word, John.…
JOHN. Ah, Briget, let me shake hands with him.…
MRS. S. Silence! He’s going out of this. I’ll give him a few shillings and he’ll catch the first train away. He’ll not be here!
PROF. You won’t gimme a few shillings, sister, and I won’t catch the first train away. I’m too glad to be here. I want a wash-up, and a good feed of spuds and cabbage, and about a week’s sleep. I’m tired.…
MRS. S. [grabs his arm]. Come with me! I’ll show you what you’re going to get.…
PROF. [resists]. Lemme go. I won’t budge.…
MRS. S. Come here, John, and lend a hand. We’ll help him outside.…
JOHN. I’d rather not, Briget.…
MRS. S. Come on—when you’re told! Or I’ll smash him and you both.
JOHN [assists]. Come now, Tim. Come, like a good fella. I wouldn’t hurt a hair of your head for the world.…
PEGGY. Mother! mother! the Kilroys are coming in.…
MRS. S. Come, John. Quick. We’ll keep them outside.…
MRS. S. and JOHN go out back.
PROF. Hallo, Peggy. Who did you say was coming? The poleece?
PEGGY. Not at all. Two neighbours.
PROF. [musing]. Gum, I’ve touched low water mark at last. Taken by the scruff of the neck like a rat to be thrown out. [Sobs and watches the effect on PEGGY.] It’s hard, hard to be old and done and frail and homeless and penniless and friendless. [Drying his eyes.] That’s what your friends would do for you.… But no matter.… Eaten bread’s forgotten.…
PEGGY. Never mind, uncle.
PROF. Eh! Your voice is kind. Calling me uncle, are you?
PEGGY. Yes, why not?
PROF. Plenty of whynots. I’m a returned empty, that’s the main whynot.
PEGGY [impulsively]. Empty or full, rich or poor, you’re my uncle Tim! [Shaking hands.] I’m glad to see you, uncle. Welcome home.
PROF. Thanks, pigeon. You’ve a heart. From this minute till I die I’ll have something kind to remember. Any more sisters, Peggy?
PEGGY. Three sisters and three brothers.
PROF. And where are they?
PEGGY. They’re over at the other farm hay-making.
PROF. Have you two farms now?
PEGGY. Yes, we bought a second farm last year.
PROF. Gum, your father deserves credit. He got a tartar of a wife. A perfect shrew.
PEGGY. Mother isn’t so bad. She just likes to boss.…
PROF. That’s obvious. An impossible woman. A victim of temper, vocabulary, and spleen. Do you remember me being here before, Peggy?
PEGGY. Quite well, uncle. You bought me a string of blue beads.
PROF. I’m glad if I did. I don’t remember a thing about it. Bad memory, Peggy. [Looks at his empty hands.] Gum, I thought I’d a valise in my hand. Have I no personal baggage at all?
PEGGY. None with you.
PROF. I must have dropt it in Paris or London.… I’m coming from Nigeria, Peggy. Been coming from Nigeria by easy stages for months and months. [Looks at his clothes.] I wonder to Gawd where I got this toggery? Looks like seafaring clothes.… Probably got them by mistake in London.
PEGGY. When did you arrive in Ireland, uncle?
PROF. I haven’t the remotest idea. The last thing I remember is being down at the docks in London. What day is this, Peggy?
PEGGY. Monday.
PROF. What date is it?
PEGGY. The 6th July.
PROF. July? Gum, I thought it was May.… There’s a big mistake somewhere. The whole month of June’s blotted out.
PEGGY. You’ve been drinking, uncle.
PROF. Not a great deal, Peggy. Just enjoying myself.… Listen, Peggy. Your mother’s likely to put me out. You’re the only friend I’ve got in the world. Could you give me a little cash? Five pounds? I’m dead broke.
PEGGY. I could give you three pounds, uncle. It’s all the money I have.
PROF. Well, for Gawd’s sake, hurry up and get it.
PEGGY. One minute. [She goes into the room.]
PROF. [more alert, looking round]. This is a comfortable spot. A wandering man could find rest here. [Recites]
What an autobiography I could give the Scallys, if they’d the wit to let me stay here! A man with the dust of forty countries on his shoes.…
PEGGY comes in with the money.
PEGGY. Three pounds, uncle. Don’t let on to mother.
PROF. [taking it]. No fear, Peggy. I know your mother of old. [Puts money in pocket.]
PEGGY. Have you had any breakfast?
PROF. I don’t know. [Feels at his stomach.] I don’t think so.… Probably had something to eat yesterday. I’m not a big feeder, Peggy. [Takes out snuff box] Have a pinch? Jockey Club.
PEGGY. Oh, gracious heavens! Don’t let mother see that. Do you snuff?
PROF. That’s obvious. [Takes snuff.] Clears the head, Peggy. I feel better already.… If your mother wasn’t so hostile I could stay here long enough. Would you mind, Peggy?
PEGGY. Not if you behaved yourself.… Whisht!
MRS. S. comes in very warlike.
MRS. S. Are you still here?
PROF. That’s obvious. Where did you think I’d be? Evaporated?
MRS. S. Have you no spirit left?
PROF. I’ve far too much spirit. I’m all spirit. What I want is more physical ability.
MRS. S. Oh, you disgrace! You prodigal! You vagabond! That the very smell of the house is insufferable.…
PEGGY. It’s only snuff, mother. If you leave him to me he’ll give no trouble. I’ll get him something to eat and he’ll rest and go away.
MRS. S. He’ll never break bread in my house! He’ll never sleep under my roof! God only knows where he’s coming from, or what plague he has with him.
PROF. My only plague is poverty. A chronic attack of penury. It arises from an absence of brass in the vest pocket. And at my age it’s incurable.
JOHN comes in back.
JOHN. Now, Tim, your own sister won’t have you here. I’ve got my orders to shift you. It’s a dirty job, but you needn’t blame me. I’m only carrying out my orders. Come now, like a good fella. I’ll drive you in to the station and buy you a ticket for some big town.…
PROF. You won’t let me stay to rest?
MRS. S. No. You’re not fit to be in human habitation.
PROF. I’m a sick man. A broken man.
MRS. S. You weren’t too sick to come and affront us.… You prodigal!
JOHN. Easy now, Briget. It’s a fearful thing to turn your face away from a broken man. We’re all prodigals … and we’ll all have to crawl back some day.…
MRS. S. Silence, you! It’s me’s turning him out. He’ll not be here!
PROF. [struggling to his feet]. All right, sister, I’m going. I can crawl back the road I come.
MRS. S. John’ll drive you to the station and see you off. You’re not going to affront us—crawling along the road like that.…
PROF. [draws a seaman’s knife]. Let you and Johnny and everybody else mind their own business. If anybody tries to stop me I’ll defend myself. [Going off back.]
MRS. S. Don’t let him out, John! Stop him.…
JOHN. By hokey, I’ll do nothing of the kind. That man’d think little of knifing me. He’s a sailor.
PEGGY [goes to PROF. at door]. Give me that knife, uncle. Please.
PROF. Sorry, pigeon. I couldn’t get along without that knife. It’s the knife I cut my food and baccy with.
PEGGY. Well, put it in your pocket. Nobody’s going to stop you. You’ll come over with me to the old kitchen and I’ll get you something to eat.…
MRS. S. Never!
PEGGY. Mother, I’ll feed him! Nobody knows whose turn it may be next.
JOHN. God bless you, Peggy. Feed him.
PROF. puts knife in pocket. KILROY and JOSEPH come in back. They stand staring at PROF.
PROF. Bless you, Peggy. You’re as good as you look. I’ll go with you like a lamb.
PEGGY. Come on. I’ll help you across.
PEGGY leads PROF. out back.
KILROY. Who’s that ould viper? I seem to know his face. [Sniffing] The smell of snuff and fish and whiskey would poison you!
MRS. S. It’s not drink, James. He’s a poor man, with the palsy or something, and Peggy always feeds him in the old kitchen.
KILROY. Well, lord knows how she does it. She’ll surely get a powerful reward in heaven. For I couldn’t go next or near him.
JOSEPH. I could go near him! I’ll go over and give him a penny.
MRS. S. You mustn’t, Joseph. He doesn’t like strangers. He wouldn’t take a penny even from me.
KILROY [looks watch]. John, are we going to this auction? If we are it’s time we were away. We won’t have much time to look about us.…
MRS. S. Go, in God’s name, and buy it. I’m determined to see Peggy and Joseph in Rush Hill before a month.…
JOSEPH. Aye—before a week! Come on, father. [Goes out back.]
KILROY. He’s a Kilroy! [Goes out back.]
JOHN [calls after him]. I’ll follow you in a minute, James. [To MRS. S.] Don’t you turn out that unfortunate till I come back.
MRS. S. Why not?
JOHN. Because it’s not right. It’s not Christian. It’s not human. Tim give us a fine start the morning we were married.
MRS. S. You’ve a very long memory.
JOHN. And you’ve a very short one.
MRS. S. Step on. He’ll not be here.
JOHN. If you turn him out he’ll die on the road.
MRS. S. If he does we can bury him. Step on.
JOHN. I may go. But not in God’s name. I’m not enough of a Scribe and Pharisee for that. We couldn’t have luck after this day’s work. We don’t deserve it. [Goes out back.]
MRS. S. Soft John! You’d give him the shirt off your back. And he’s the boy would take it. But he won’t be here when you come back. Not if I have to drive him in to the station myself and ship him! [Sniffing] Mercy! the smell of this house … snuff or something. [Opens all the doors and windows and comes back to the centre.] If the Kilroys see him or get to know who he is—that ends everything.…
PEGGY comes in shaking her head.
PEGGY. We’re lost, mother. He’s gone off across the fields to the auction.
MRS. S. [shrieks]. What! Gone to the auction! Why did you let him out?
PEGGY. Because I couldn’t keep him in. He threatened me with the knife. The man’s either an eccentric, or he’s crazy.…
MRS. S. [sinks on a chair]. Oh, Lord above! Am I to be persecuted and afflicted off the face of the earth? Or why do You permit these people—one and all of them—to make my life a misery? Why, why?