_PADDY KINNEY, an oldish groom, comes in. He has various parcels, including a paper bag with a lady’s hat._ O’C. Well, Paddy, you seem to’ve raised the wind again. You’re laden like a bee in June. PADDY. Raised the wind, is it! My sowl, your credit’s as good as the Bank of Ireland. I could finance a new railway by naming your name. O’C. It would be a short railway, Paddy, and a very narrow gauge. But never mind. What have you with you? I didn’t tell you to bring anything. PADDY. I’ve home money and value. I tell you I was actually refusing obligements at the heels of the hunt. Wait till you see that basket of stuff in the hall. Corn-beef, cakes, and porter galore. O’C. [_shrugs_]. Many people gathering down at the road? PADDY. I see nobody but big, blustering Kilroy, and the son at his fut--like a spent foal--and John Scally. I suppose the wife made John toe the line.... O’C. Call me when the auctioneer comes. I’m in the kitchen. [_Goes out._] PADDY [_bitterly_]. Scoff and roast the town of Ballykennedy! That I may live to see nettles fourteen feet high growing on its main street. The people he spent hundreds of pounds with wouldn’t gimme a pot of jam without the money. MOLL. How then did you get all the provisions you’ve home with you? PADDY. I paid for them out of my own bit of savings. Ten pounds I’d past me for a rainy day. Twenty years’ gathering. MOLL [_comes from window_]. Did you get me anything for my head? PADDY. I got you a hat. And a dress. That’s what kept so long--choosing them. I’ll never undertake a work of the kind again if I live forever. MOLL [_excited_]. Show me the hat, Paddy. Quick. Quick. PADDY. You’ll put the dress on first. You wouldn’t want to put the dress on over the hat, would you? You always put the saddle on a horse before the bridle. _He opens a parcel and takes out a red dress with black spots._ MOLL. I don’t like it! PADDY. Well, blessid and holy Moses, such cheek! You don’t like it? MOLL. I never liked red. PADDY. Because you never had any taste! Weren’t you and your clothes always a born fright! Here, on with it now. MOLL [_takes dress_]. Go you out of the room before I on with it. PADDY. Gwon, get into it! I’m not looking at you at all. I’ve something else in my mind this minute than your figure. MOLL. Well, turn your back, Paddy, like a decent man. PADDY [_going to window_]. Blast you and your modesty! You’d think you were sixteen. Hurry up now, or I’ll wheel on you. _MOLL puts dress on._ MOLL. All right, Paddy. You can turn now. PADDY [_turning_]. It’s a pome. You’re like the pillar of fire that walked before Moses. MOLL [_twisting_]. How does it look at the back? PADDY. Could you not tighten the girths a little? MOLL [_tightening it_]. It should have a belt.... Is that better? PADDY. I asked the shopkeeper if there wasn’t a surcingle, and he said surcingles are out of fashion.