Four Irish plays: Mixed marriage, The magnanimous lover, The critics, The Orangeman

Front matter

CORNELL

UNIVERSITY

LIBRARY

Act I

Scene. — It is the evening of a warm summer day at the beginning of Jidy. The living room of John Rainey's house, by reason of the coal-fire burning in the open grate, is intolerably heated ; to counteract this, the door leading to the street is partly open, and the scullery door, leading to the yard is open to its widest. Near the fireplace, above which is suspended a portrait of King William the Third in the act of crossing the Boyne, a plain deal table, covered with dark-coloured American cloth, stands. It is laid for he evening meal. At the fire, placing a plateful of buttered ,oast on the fender, is Mrs. Rainey, a slight, gentle woman, 'batient with the awful patience of a woman who has always submitted to her husband^s will, without ever respecting him. Whilst she is completing the preparations for the meal, the street door is pushed hurriedly open and John Rainey, dirty from his labor, enters. He is grey-haired, but not bald; he speaks with the quick accent of one used to being obeyed.

Rainey. Is the tay ready ?

Mrs. Rainey. It'U be ready in a minute ! Ye'Il have to wait til Tom an' Hughie come in.

Rainey. What are they not here fur f They haven't anny fardher, nor me to come, an A'm here afore them. An' me an ould man an' all.

Mrs. Rainey. Ah, now don't be puttin' yerself out. Sure, they'll be here in a minute or two. Gw'on into the scullery now an' wash yerself.

Rainey. Has the wee boy wi' the lellygraph come yit ?

Mrs. RAfNEY. He'll be here in a minit. Lord bless us, ye're in a quare hurry the night.

Rainey. He's always late, that wee lad ! Mrs. Rainey. Wus there annythin' pertickler ye wur wantin' t' see in it ?

Rainey. Aye, about the strack.

Mrs. Rainey. The strack ! Ye're not out on strack, John?

Rainey. Aye, we come out this avenin'. Mrs. Rainey. Aw, God help us, this is tarrible ! Rainey. It's goan t' be a long job too, A can tell ye. The masters an' the men are determined.

Mrs. Rainey. Ye nivir tould me there was goan t'be a strack.

Rainey. Och, what wud a lock o' weemen want t'be talkin' about stracks fur. What do they know about it ? Mrs. Rainey. It's on'y us that does know about it It's us that has t' kape the heart in you while it's on.

Rainey. Aw, now, hould yer tongue ! You weemen are always down in the mouth about somethin'. Ye wud think t' hear ye talkin' we come out on strack fur the fun o' the thing. It's no joke, A can tell ye ! Mrs. Rainey. It is not, indeed.

Rainey {taking off his coat and loosening his waistcoat). Where's the towel ?

Mrs. Rainey. Behin' the scullery door.

{fie goes into the scullery, and the noise of great splashing is heard whilst he washes himself. A newspaper hoy is heard coming down the street, crying, " Telly-ger-ah ! " He flings a paper into the little porch, utters his cry in the door, and passes on. Mrs. Rainey goes to the door and picks the paper up. As she does so, her son, Tom, appears in the doorway. They enter the kitchen together. Tom. Is that you. Ma ?

Mrs. Rainey. Aye, Tom ! Where's Hughie ? Tom. Och, he's away after them Sinn Feiners. He'll be here in a wee while. Is me da in yet ?

(John Rainey appears, towelling himself vigorously.

Rainey. So ye're here at last, are yt ? Kapin' the tay waitin' !

Tom. Och, sure, A cudden help it. A wus wi' Hughie ! Rainey. Aye, ye're sure t'be late if ye're wi' him. Where's he f

Tom. a left him in Royal Avenue talkin' to Michael O'Hara.

Rainey. What, thon Papish fella ?

Tom. Aye, they went intil the Sinn Feiners' Hall

thegither. {He sits down and takes off his boots) He'll

not be long. (He takes off his coat and loosens his waistcoat)

Rainey. A don't like Hughie goin' after Papishes. He

knows a quare lock o' them.

Mrs. Rainey. Och, now, what harm is there in that. A'm sure Micky O'Hara's as nice a wee fella as ye cud wish t' meet.

Rainey. Aw, A've nathin' agenst him, but A don't like Cathliks an' Prodesans mixin' thegither. No good ivir comes o' the like o' that.

(Tom goes into the scullery where the splashing noise is renewed.

Mrs. Rainey. They'll have to mix in heaven, John, Rainey. This isn't heaven.

Mrs. Rainey. Indeed, that's true. What wi' stracks an' one thing an' another, it might be hell.

Rainey. There's no peace where Cathliks an' Prodesans gits mixed up thegither. Luk at the way the Cathliks carry on on the Twelfth o' July. Ye have t' have the peelers houlin' them back for fear they'd make a riot. D'ye call that respectable or dacent ?

Mrs. Rainey. Well, God knows, they git plenty of provokin'. What wi' them men that" prache at the Custom House Steps an' yer or'nge arches an' the way the Telly graph is always goin' on at them, A wonder they don't do more nor they do.

Rainey. Aw, ye wur always one fur Cathliks ! Mrs. Rainey. A belave in lavin' people alone. Come on, an' have yer tay fur dear sake. Sure ve'd go on talkin' fur a lifetime if A wus to let ye

Rainey. Are ye not goiri' to wait fur Hughie ?

Mrs. Rainey. No, ye'd better have yours now : he'll have his when he comes in.

{^hey sit down and begin the meal.

Rainey. Dear on'y knows when that'll be, runnin' after a lock o' Socialists an' Cathliks ?

Mrs. Rainey. He's not runnin' after Socialists. It's Sinn Feiners he's runnin' after.

Rainey. They're the same thing. Sinn Feiners are all SociaUsts. That fella Michael O'Hara, what d'ye think he said when A asked him what way o' thinkin' he was ?

Mrs. Rainey. A don't know, A'm sure.

Rainey. A'm a member o' the Independent Labor Party, ses he, the I. L. P. A Socialist Society — that's what it is. Did ye ivir hear the like o' that ?

Mrs. Rainey. Och, A've heerd worse. A've heerd o' stracks,

Rainey. There ye go again. What can we do ? Sure, the masters is not payin' us fair, an' there's no other way o' makin' them.

(Tom re-enters the kitchen and comfletes his toilet in front of the small looking-glass hanging on the wall

Is there, Tom ?

Tom. Sure, I don't know anythin' about it.

Rainey. Naw, ye're ignorant, that's what ye are. A great big fella like you, an' don't know that yit. Ye think o' nathin but goin' up the road of an avenin' after a lot o' girls.

Mrs. Rainey. Well, sure ye wur the same yerself when ye wur his age. Come on an' have yer tay, Tom.

Rainey. The young men o' this day don't think enough. There's not one o' them knows a thing about the battle o' the Boyne. What happened on the first day o' July in the year sixteen hunderd and ninety, will ye tell me that, now ?

(Tom sits at the table.

Tom. Aw, fur dear sake, hould yer tongue. A left school long ago

Mrs. Rmney. Mebbe some ould men lost their tempers.

Rainey. Aye, ye can make fun, but it was the gran' day fur Englan' an' Irelan' that wus, when William o' Or'nge driv Popery out o' Irelan'.

Tom. He didden drive it far. Sure, there's plenty o' Papishes in Bilfast, an' there's more o' them in Irelan' nor Prodesans.

Mrs. Rainey. A can't help thintin' it's their country we've got.

Rainey. Their country indeed ! What d'ye think 'ud become o' us if this wmr their country ? There isn't a Prodesan in Irelan' wrud be left alive.

Mrs. Rainey. Och, now, don't tell us the like o' that, fur sure it's not true. Cathliks is jus' like wurselves, as good as we are an' as bad as we are, an' no worse. A wish to me goodness ye wudden go to the Custom House Steps if that's the soart o' nonsense they tache ye.

Rainey. A don't nade t'be taught it — ^A know it. A've read a bit in me time. Did ye ivir read the history o' Maria Monk ?

Tom. Sure, Hughie ses that's all lies.

Rainey. Lies, does he call it ? What does he know about it ? That's what comes thrum associatin' wi Tagues. He'U be disbelievin' the Bible nixt.

(A knock is heard on the door, and a voice cries " Are ye in, Mrs. Rainey ? "

Mrs. Rainey. "Aye, A am.

{Enter Nora Murray, a good-looking, intelligent, darkhaired girl of twenty-four.

Och, is that yerself, Nora ? Sure come on in.

Nora. Good avenin', Mr. Rainey.

Rainey. Good avenin'.

Nora. How ir ye, Tom ?

Tom. A'm bravely, thank ye, Nora,

Nora. Is Hugh in ?

Mrs. Rainey. He's not home yet, but he'll be here in a wee minute. Have ye had yer tay ?

Nora. Aye, A have thank ye

Mrs. Rainey. Sure, ye cud take a wee drap more, cudden ye ?

Nora. Aw, no, thank ye. A'm on'y after havin' it.

Tom. Gwon an' have a drap 'er that.

Nora. Och, A cud not indeed.

Rainey. There's no good askin' her if she won't have

it.

Nora. Is it true about the strack.

Rainey. It is.

Nora. Dear-a-dear, but it's a quare pity .

Rainey. Aw, you weemen are all the same. Ye're always lukkin' on the black side o' things, an' complainin'.

Mrs. Rainey. There's nathin' but black sides to stracks.

Tom. Aw, there's a bright side, too. Ye don't have to git up so early in the mornin'.

Rainey.. Ye'll git up at the same time the morra mornin', strack or no strack. It wudden take you long t' git out o' the habit o' gettin' up early.

Nora. There'll be the quare distress in Belfast. It wus awful the last time.

Rainey. There's always distress fur the like o' us sometime or other.

Nora. Indeed, that's true.

Mrs. Rainey. There ought to be some other way o' setthn' these things nor stracks. It's wicked, that's what it is, an' it's the weemen that has to bear the worst o' it. Aw, yes, indeed it is. You men don't have to face the rent agent an' the grocer wi' no money.

Rainey. We all have to take our share, don't we f

Mrs. Rainey. Some have to take more nor their share. {To Nord} Aic ye goan up the road wi' Hughie the night, Nora ?

Nora (somewhat embarrassed). No, A jus' come in t'ask him about the strack,

Rainey. Well ye've heerd about it.

Nora (in greater confusion). Yes, A'U jus' be goin' now.

Mrs. Rainey. Fur dear sake, don't take any notis o' him. Sure, he's not beside himself the night. Jus'- sit down there, an' wait till Hughie comes. He's a long time. (^She goes to the door and looks out) He's not in sight. Come on an' we'll walk til the head o' the street an' see if he's comin'.

Nora. Aye, A will.

(Nora and Mrs. Rainey go out at the street door.

Rainey. Is Hughie goin' out wi' that girl ?

Tom. Aw, he waits up the road wi' her, but sure he' done that often enough wi' other girls. He's a great boy fur girls.

Rainey. What religion is she ?

Tom (uneasily). A'm not sure.

Rainey. She's got a Papish name. There's many a Fenian be the name o' Murray.

Tom. Sure, what differs does it make if she is a Cathlik. She's a brave, nice wee girl.

Rainey. A wudden have a son o' mine marry a Cathlik fur all the wurl. A've nathin' agin the girl, but A believe in stickin' t'yer religion. A Catlikk's a Cathlik, an' a Prodesan's a Prodesan. Ye can't get over that.

Tom. Och, sure, they're all the same. Ye cudden tell the differs atween a Cathlik an' a Prodesan if ye met them in the street an' didden know what their religion wus. A'm not one fur marryin' out o' my religion meself, but A'm no bigot. Nora Murray's a fine wumman.

Rainey. Fine or no fine, she's a Cathlik, an' A'U nivir consent til a son o' mine marryin' her.

Tom. What are ye goan t'do about the strack ?

Rainey. Do ! What shud A do ? Take me share in it the same's the rest o^j^i The workin' class has got t' hing thegither.

Tom. It's a tarrible pity we can't get our work done dacently. Nathin' but a lot o' fightin' an' wranglin'.

Rainey. Ay, it's a rotten way to' git through the wurl', fightin' over ha'pennies. Us wantin' a penny an hour more, an' the masters not willin' t' give it to us. Och, ay, it's wrong. Wrong, wrong !

(Re-enter Mrs. Rainey.

Mrs. Rainey. Hughie's comin' down the street, now. He's got O'Hara wi' him.

Rainey. Huh ! more Cathliks ! Whereas that girl gone f

Mrs. Rainey. A toiJ her t'go on an' meet them. She'll come in wi' them in a minit.

Rainey. A'm surprised at ye encouragin' her. A Cathlik !

Mrs. Rainey. Ah, fur dear sake, houl' yer wheesht. Ye've got Cathlik on the brain.

Rainey. A'm agin mixed marriages, d'ye hear ?

(Enter Hugh Rainey, Michael O'Hara, and Nora Greetings, surly on the fart of old Rainey.

Mrs. Rainey. Have ye had yer tay, Michael ?

Hugh. No, indeed, he hasn't, ma, an' A brought him here t' have it.

Michael. Och, now, Mrs. Rainey, don't put yerself til any bother. Sure, A'll git it whin A go home.

Mrs. Rainey. It's no bother at all, Michael. It's on'y t'git down a cup an' sasser. Sure, there's plenty, an' yer welcome to it.

Michael. It's very kind o' ye, A'm sure.

(Hugh and he sit down at the table together. Nora and Tom sit talking together on the sofa. Rainey is seated before the fire reading the " Evening Telegra-ph."

Mrs. Rainey. Nora, come up here an' have a cup o' tay.

Nora. Aw, indeed a cuddent, Mrs. Rainey, thank ye. A've just had it.

Hugh. Ah, come on, an' keep Michael an' me company. Sure, ye can always drink tay.

Mrs. Rainey. Now, come on. We'll not take " no " fur an answer.

Rainey. Sure if the girl dussen want it ... .

Mrs. Rainey. Aw, you go on readin' yer paper.

(Nora joins Hugh and Michael at the table.

Hugh. Da, we wur wantin' t'have a bit o' a talk wi' ye, Michael an' me, about the strack.

Rainey. Wur ye f

Mixed Marriage g

Hugh. Aye, we wur. We wur thinkin' ye might give us a great dale o' help.

Michael. Ye see, Mr. Rainey, ye're a man that's held in great respect be the men, Cathliks an' Prodesans.

Rainey. A've always tried t' live a straight life an' do me duty by my feUow men.

Michael. Indeed, A know that quare an' well, Mr. Rainey. Ye're a man that's alwis bin thought a great dale of. Well, Hugh an' me's bin talkin' this matter over, an' we've come til the conclusion that the great danger o' this strack is that the workers may get led astray be religious rancour. There's bin attempts made in that direction already.

Hugh. Ay, did ye see that bit in the Telly the night about Nationalists breedin' discontent among the peaceable people o' Bilfast ?

Rainey. Naw, A've not read it yit. (Looking at the ' paper.) Is this it ? (Hugh looks at the paper). This bit.

Hugh. Ay, that. {Reads) " We feel sure that the loyal peace-abiding Protestants of this, the greatest commercial city in Ireland, wiU not allow themselves to be led astray hy Nationalist agitators from Dublin, and that they will see that their true interests lie in the same direction as those of their employers. We should be the last to encourage religious strife, but we would remind our readers, the loyal Orangemen of Ulster, that the leaders of this strike are Roman Catholics and Home Rulers." There's a nice thing fur ye. There's a lot o' fools in this town'll swallow that balderdash like anything.

Michael. Ye see, Mr. Rainey, it's a fact that the leaders are mostly Cathliks, but that dussent mane anything at all, on'y there's some people'll think that it manes that the Pope'U arrive here next week an' ordher all the Prodesans t'be slaughtered. Now, Hugh,|an' me thought if you wur t' come an' take a leadin' part in the strack it wud show that Cathliks an' Prodesans wus workin' han' in han' fur the same object. D'ye see ?

Rainey. Ay, A see right enough.

Hugh. D'ye agree wi' it father ?

Rainey. A'm no' sure. It wants thinkin' about.

Mrs. Rainey. What thinkin' does it want to stan' thegither ?

Tom. Sure ye've oa'y got to go on the platform an' say we're all in the same boat.

Rainey. What d'you know about it ? You're on'y a bit o' a lad.

Tom. (sulkily). Mebbe A know more'n some people think A do ?

Rainey. Ay, an' mebbe ye don't know s' much as ye think ye do.

Mrs. Rainey. Ah, well, mebbe atween the two he knows a brave bit ? Are ye ready for some more tay, Michael ?

Michael. Aw, sure A'm done, Mrs. Rainey, thank ye.

Mrs. Rainey. Och, indeed, ye're not. Sure that's no tay fur a man.

Michael. Aw, now, A've done rightly, thank ye. A cudden take another drap.

Mrs. Rainey. Well, A wunt coax ye, ye know.

Michael. Aw, A wudden say " no " jus' fur the sake o' bein' polite.

Mrs. Rainey. Well, if ye're done, A'U jus' redd away these dishes an' things.

Nora (rising). Let me do it, Mrs. Rainey.

Mrs. Rainey. Indeed A will not. Sit down there an' rest yerself. Sure ye've bin at yer work aU day.

Nora. Well, ye can let me help ye anny way ?

Mrs. Rainey (smiling at her). Well, mebbe A will. Come on intil the scullery an' we'll wash up the dishes while these men have ther crack.

(Mrs. Rainey and Nora remove the dishes and tea-things to the scullery : they fass in and out of the kitchen to the scullery, during a ■part of the following scene, hut when all the tea-things have been removed, they remain in the scullery and the noise of dishes being washed is heard.

Rainey. Where is this meetin' to take place

Mixed Marriage ii

Michael. WelJ, we wur thinkin' o' St. Mary's Hall.

Rainey. What!

Hugh. Sure, what does it matter where it takes place ?

Rainey. A Cathlik hall like that where Home Rulers always go f

Hugh. It's the only hall we can git. Sure, we'd take the Ulster on'y they wudden let us have it.

Tom. Ye cud have it at the Custom House Steps. Ye cud git more people there.

Michael. We wur thinkin' o' that.

Rainey. A wudden go anear St. Mary's Hall.

Hugh. Wud ye go til the Steps, then ?

Rainey. Ay, A might do that.

Michael. Then we'll have it there. Man, Mr. Rainey, A'm quare an' glad ye're willin' till speak. It's a fine thing. Think o' it. Her's a chance t'kill bigotry and make the men o' Bilfast realise that onderneath the Cathlik an' the Prodesan there's the plain workin' man.

Hugh. Ay, that's it. They're jus' the same onderneath. They need the same food an' shelter an' clo'es, an' they suffer the same wrongs. The employers don't give a man better wages fur bein' a Prodesan or a Cathlik, do they ?

Rainey. That's true enough.

Michael. A tell ye, Mr. Rainey, the employers have used religion to throw dust in wur eyes. They're eggin' us on t' fight one another over religion, so's we shan't have time til think about the rotten wages they give us. They set the Cathliks agin the Prodesans, an' the Prodesans agin the Cathliks, so's ye can't git the two to work thegither for the good o' their class. Look at the way it is in the shipyards. Ye git men workin' thegither peaceably all the year til the Twelfth o' July, an' then they start batin' one another fur the love o' God. There's yourself. Ye're a very dacent^ntelligent man, but ye're suspicious o' me, an' ye dorrt like t' see Hugh an' me so chummy as we are, an' all acause A'm a Cathlik an' you an' he are Prodesans.

Rainey. There's a differs.

Michael. On'y a veiy little. Look at me. A'm lite yerself. A'm a workin' man. A want t' marry an' have a wife an' childher an' keep them an' me dacently, an' A want t'sarve God in the way A wus brought up. You don't want no more nor that.

Tom. Ay, indeed, that's true. People are all the same the wurl over. They jus' want t'be let alone.

Hugh. Man, da, whin A'm out wi' Mickey, A sometimes think what a fine thing it 'ud be if the workin' men o' Irelan' was to join their han's thegither an' try an' make a great country o' it. There wus a time whin Irelan' wus the islan' o' saints. By God, da, if we cud bring that time back again.

Rainey. It's a gran' dream.

Michael. To see the streets full o' happy men an' weemen again, their faces shinin' wi' the glory o' the Lord God, an' the childher runnin' about in the sun an' none o' them sick wi' hunger. Aw, if on'y we wud hould thegither an' not be led astray be people that want to keep us apart.

Rainey. It'll nivir be. (Enter Mrs. Rainey.

Michael. Why not f

Rainey. There's such a quare differs atween a Cathlik an' a Prodesan f

Mrs. Rainey. Och, sure what differs does it make so long as ye act up til yer religion. (Enter Nora.

Michael. That's the God's truth, Mrs. Rainey. When a man's livin' at his best, it dussn't matter how much he starts differently thrum other people that's doin' the same — ^he gits quare an' Uke them in the end.

Rainey. There's a differs.

Nora. Dear, oh, dear, are ye still wranglin' wi' one another ? What ones men are fur talkin'.

Mrs. Rainey (j>ulling her iown beside her on the sofa). Nivir mind, dear, let them go on talkin'. It keeps them quiet.

Act II

The Scene w the same as in Act I. A week has elapsed. It is the late afternoon. Mrs. Rainey is baking bread, there is a " griddle " on the fire, on which lie four baking soda-farls. Every now and then Mrs. Rainey leaves the baking-board and goes to the griddle to attend to the farls there.

(Her son Hugh enters.

Mrs. Rainey. Is that you, Hughie ?

Hugh. A7. (He draws a chair up to the fire, and takes off his boots. His Mother places a pair of carpet slippers by his chair. He puts them on.) Where's me da ?

Mrs. Rainey. He's away out somewhere. He didden say where he wus goan an' A didden ask.

Hugh. Man-a-dear, he spoke quare an' well the day at the Steps. There wus quare cheers fur him whin he got down aff the chair.

Mrs. Rainey. Yer father wus alwis a good speaker.

Hugh. It'll be a fine thing fur him t'be able t'say he wus the man that give bigotry it's death in Bilfast. The workin'-class '11 nivir be the same again. They know now that it dussen matter whether yer a Cathlik or a Prodesan, if ye're a workin' man ye're bein' groun' down be the masters.

Mrs. Rainey. Aw, now, Hughie, the masters is not as bad as they're made out t'be. Sure, it's no good callin' people bad names. It's alwis bin like this, an' ye can't expec' people t' change sudden. If ye wur brought up like them ye'd be the same as they are.

Hugh. They haven't got the troubles we ha v. They nivir see their childher starvin', do they ?

Mn8. Rainey. Naw, perhaps, they don't git their trouble jus' Jike" that, but they get it ^ll the same. It's jus' a wee bit different on the outside. Wud ye like a wee drap o'tay an' a bit o' new bread ? Hugh. A'll wait till ye have it yerself. Mrs. Rainey. A'll not be long now — the bread's near done.

{She bends over the " griddle," turning the farls, and now and then stands them on their sides so as to brown them all over. Some, baked, she rernoves. Her son watches her for a while as if anxious to speak to her, but undecided how to begin. She carries the last farl to the table.

Hugh. ■ Will A take the griddle aff fur ye ? Mrs. Rainey. Ay if ye plase. Put it in the scullery. {He takes the " griddle " out and when he returns stands beside her as she batches the bread. Mrs. Rainey. Wur ye wantin' t' say anythin' to me, Hughie ?

Hugh {moving away). Naw. {He looks at the fire for a second or two, then turns swiftly to his mother, and 'puts his arms round her neck) Ma, wud ye be vexed if A wus to marry Nora Murray ?

{She pats him gently.

Mrs. Rainey. Vexed, dear ?

Hugh. Ay. She's a Cathlik.

Mrs. Rainey. A wudden be vexed at yer marryin' her. A like her quare an' well.

Hugh. But ye wudden like me t' marry a Cathlik f Mrs. Rainey. A wus wunnerin', Hughie. It's strange t' think ye shud be wantin' t' marry a-taU. Its — ye wur a wee lad — ^Ye're a man, Hughie. A har'ly know that yit Hugh. It's nacherl fur a man t' marry. Mrs. Rainey. Ay, its nacherl. It is indeed ! But ye wudden belave the strange it is for all that. A wus a young girl when A had you, Hughie, younger nor Nora, an' A wus quare an proud o' ye. A . . . {She sobs a little.)

Hugh. A've bin a good son t'ye.

Mrs. Rainey {drying her tears). Ye have, dear. Ye have that. A'm not complainin'. It's the way o' things.

Hugh. Ye'll not be vexed wi' me.

Mrs. Rainey (smiling and kissing him). Vexed wi' ye. Sure, no. What wud A be vexed fur ? It's yer father.

Hugh. Ay, A wunner how he'll take it ?

Mrs. Rainey. Ye're very fond o' her aren't ye, Hughie ?

Hugh. Ay !

Mrs. Rainey. It wud hurt ye not til marry her.

Hugh. It wud.

Mrs. Rainey. Mebbe if ye wur t' tell him that ....

Hugh. She's not goan t' change her religion, an' A'm not goan t' change mine. If there's any childher ....

Mrs. Rainey. That'll be the test, Hughie.

Hugh. We'U let them choose fur themselves whin they're oul' enough. Aw, Ma, half the religion in the wurl' is like a disease that ye get thrum yer father. A'm a Prodesan acause you an' me da are Prodesans, an' Nora's a Cathlik acause her parents wur Cathliks ; an' you and he are Prodesans acause your da and ma wur Prodesans, an' they wur Cathliks acause their parents wur Cathliks. A'd like a time til come when a man wus a Cathlik or a Prodesan acause he felt in his sowl it wus the right thing til be.

Mrs. Rainey. Ay, indeed. But man, Hughie, whin ye come til bring up yer childher, it's quare how ye don't think like that. Its all right fur you an' her — ^ye're separate ye see ; but it's different wi' childher. Ye can't say, this chile's me an' that chile's her. They're jus' like as if ye wur both lumped thegither. It's very difficult ....

Hugh. Ye're not goan back on me, are ye ?

Mrs. Rainey. Naw, Hughie, A'm not. A'm on'y tellin' ye that it's not as aisy as ye think it is.

Hugh (^putting his arm round her neck). Ma, A just love her.

Mrs. Rainey. A know, dear.

Hugh. It's like .... Huh, A dunna how t'say it. It grips ye, an ye can't houl' out. Aw, an' it hurts ....

Mrs. Rainey. Ay, it hurts ....

Hugh. Y^'re a quare good wumman, ma. Sometimes A think if it wussen fur you A'd nivir a stapped here wi' him. He's that hard.

(A knock is heard on the door and the voice of Michael O'Hara cries, " Can A come in ? "

Mrs. Rainey. Ay, come on.

{Enter Michael.

Michael. How are ye all ?

Mrs. Rainey. Ah, sure we're rightly.

Michael. Is Mr. Rainey in ?

Hugh. Naw, he's out somewhere.

Michael. Man, Hughie, we'U have til be quare an careful. That wee man Hart 's bin tryin' t' rouse the Or'ngemen agin the Cathhks. There wus a bit o' a fight last night in North Street, an' a chap cursed the Pope.

Mrs. Rainey. Aw, dear-a-dear, what harm did the poor man do him that he should go an' curse him ?

Michael. Ay, indeed, ye're right. There's goan t'be a meetin' o' the Or'ngemen the night; an' Hart'll be there stirrin' up bad blood. We must get yer father t' go an' stap him.

Hugh. Aw, he'll go all right. His blood's up ye know. Once ye set him talkin' it's hard t' stap him. Man, ye did the right thing whin ye toul' him he might be the man til bring bigotry til an end. That plazed him greatly.