Matthew Haffigan runs to the nearest end of the table and takes the chair from it, placing it near the basket; but Larry has already taken the chair from the other end and placed it in front of the table. Father Dempsey accepts that more central position. CORNELIUS. Sit down, Barney, will you; and you, Mat. Doran takes the chair Mat is still offering to the priest; and poor Matthew, outfaced by the miller, humbly turns the basket upside down and sits on it. Cornelius brings his own breakfast chair from the table and sits down on Father Dempsey's right. Broadbent resumes his seat on the rustic bench. Larry crosses to the bench and is about to sit down beside him when Broadbent holds him off nervously. BROADBENT. Do you think it will bear two, Larry? LARRY. Perhaps not. Don't move. I'll stand. [He posts himself behind the bench]. They are all now seated, except Larry; and the session assumes a portentous air, as if something important were coming. CORNELIUS. Props you'll explain, Father Dempsey. FATHER DEMPSEY. No, no: go on, you: the Church has no politics. CORNELIUS. Were yever thinkin o goin into parliament at all, Larry? LARRY. Me! FATHER DEMPSEY [encouragingly] Yes, you. Hwy not? LARRY. I'm afraid my ideas would not be popular enough. CORNELIUS. I don't know that. Do you, Barney? DORAN. There's too much blatherumskite in Irish politics a dale too much. LARRY. But what about your present member? Is he going to retire? CORNELIUS. No: I don't know that he is. LARRY [interrogatively]. Well? then? MATTHEW [breaking out with surly bitterness]. We've had enough of his foolish talk agen lanlords. Hwat call has he to talk about the lan, that never was outside of a city office in his life? CORNELIUS. We're tired of him. He doesn't know hwere to stop. Every man can't own land; and some men must own it to employ them. It was all very well when solid men like Doran and me and Mat were kep from ownin land. But hwat man in his senses ever wanted to give land to Patsy Farrll an dhe like o him? BROADBENT. But surely Irish landlordism was accountable for what Mr Haffigan suffered. MATTHEW. Never mind hwat I suffered. I know what I suffered adhout you tellin me. But did I ever ask for more dhan the farm I made wid me own hans: tell me that, Corny Doyle, and you that knows. Was I fit for the responsibility or was I not? [Snarling angrily at Cornelius] Am I to be compared to Patsy Farrll, that doesn't harly know his right hand from his left? What did he ever suffer, I'd like to know? CORNELIUS. That's just what I say. I wasn't comparin you to your disadvantage. MATTHEW [implacable]. Then hwat did you mane be talkin about givin him lan? DORAN. Aisy, Mat, aisy. You're like a bear with a sore back. MATTHEW [trembling with rage]. An who are you, to offer to taitch me manners?