[Momentary scepticism]. I do. [Convulsive cheering]. Gentlemen: I have said enough. [Cries of "Go on"]. No: I have as yet no right to address you at all on political subjects; and we must not abuse the warmhearted Irish hospitality of Miss Doyle by turning her sittingroom into a public meeting. DORAN [energetically]. Three cheers for Tom Broadbent, the future member for Rosscullen! AUNT JUDY [waving a half knitted sock]. Hip hip hurray! The cheers are given with great heartiness, as it is by this time, for the more humorous spirits present, a question of vociferation or internal rupture. BROADBENT. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, friends. NORA [whispering to Doran]. Take them away, Mr Doran [Doran nods]. DORAN. Well, good evenin, Mr Broadbent; an may you never regret the day you wint dhrivin wid Halligan's pig! [They shake hands]. Good evenin, Miss Doyle. General handshaking, Broadbent shaking hands with everybody effusively. He accompanies them to the garden and can be heard outside saying Goodnight in every inflexion known to parliamentary candidates. Nora, Aunt Judy, Keegan, Larry, and Cornelius are left in the parlor. Larry goes to the threshold and watches the scene in the garden. NORA. It's a shame to make game of him like that. He's a gradle more good in him than Barney Doran. CORNELIUS. It's all up with his candidature. He'll be laughed out o the town. LARRY [turning quickly from the doorway]. Oh no he won't: he's not an Irishman. He'll never know they're laughing at him; and while they're laughing he'll win the seat. CORNELIUS. But he can't prevent the story getting about. LARRY. He won't want to. He'll tell it himself as one of the most providential episodes in the history of England and Ireland. AUNT JUDY. Sure he wouldn't make a fool of himself like that. LARRY. Are you sure he's such a fool after all, Aunt Judy? Suppose you had a vote! which would you rather give it to? the man that told the story of Haffigan's pig Barney Doran's way or Broadbent's way? AUNT JUDY. Faith I wouldn't give it to a man at all. It's a few women they want in parliament to stop their foolish blather. BROADBENT [bustling into the room, and taking off his damaged motoring overcoat, which he put down on the sofa]. Well, that's over. I must apologize for making that speech, Miss Doyle; but they like it, you know. Everything helps in electioneering. Larry takes the chair near the door; draws it near the table; and sits astride it, with his elbows folded on the back. AUNT JUDY. I'd no notion you were such an orator, Mr Broadbent. BROADBENT. Oh, it's only a knack. One picks it up on the platform. It stokes up their enthusiasm. AUNT JUDY. Oh, I forgot. You've not met Mr Keegan. Let me introjooce you.