(_The circumlocution of the play--there is no action--takes place I don’t know where and I can’t think when. But the scene is the corner of the village square. Mrs. Joner is discovered sitting in front of her house, knitting, washing socks, or perhaps just thinking. In the distance can be seen the figure of a male statue, very new, with a long inscription on the pedestal. Timothy James O’Leary walks by, gazing at the statue._) _T.J._ Good day to you, Bridget Ellen Joner. And it’s many’s the day since I was seeing you. (_With a jerk of his head._) And isn’t it the fine statue you have on himself there? _Mrs. J._ It is so. Though, indeed, it is like no husband I ever had--or ever will have, I’m hoping. _T.J._ It is not--and why would it be? Who wants likenesses in a statue when they have all that writing and printing below to tell who it is above--(_piously_)--“Michael Flannigan Joner, that gave his life for his fellow-travelers”? _Mrs. J._ Aye, it was the only time he ever gave anything away in his life, to my knowing, unless it would be them sermons and prophecies that he would be handing to the folk in the public street, and none wanting them any more than the cows in the bog. _T. J._ Ah, it was a queer thing entirely! Have you heard any more now what was the way of it, for I am not understanding how it was at all. _Mrs. J._ It was the sailors of the ship that did be saying they would sail the ship no longer when they found that himself was in the Post Office, and him travelling for the Government. And there was a great storm and the ship was tossing the way you wouldn’t know was she a ship at all, or a cork that a boy throws in the water out of a bottle; and the sailors said it was the English Government--and why would it not be?--and they cried out against himself and said it was having the ship sunk on them he would be, and he rose up out of his bed and “Is it sinking the ship I would be?” he said, and he threw himself over the side into the water--and that was the way of it. _T. J._ (_reflectively_). And him with the rheumatics--God rest his soul! And have you any pension taken from the Government? _Mrs. J._ I have so. And it’s worth more to me he is now he’s dead than ever he was when he was alive with all his praying and preaching and prophesying---- _T. J._ Maybe it’s thinking of marrying again you might be? _Mrs. J._ And how would I be marrying again, Timothy James, and I a lone widow woman with no money to pay for the roof over my head--let alone weddings? _T. J._ And why would you not be? Sure, you have the pension for himself, and what better use can a woman find for a pension that is for her man that is dead than to get another that is alive and well? _Mrs. J._ Will you tell me now where I would find a husband that would be the equal of a man who gave his life for his fellow-travellers--and him with the rheumatics?