JOHN. I could never cart this man across, Briget, in such a condition. He’s like a lump of wet putty. MRS. S. You’ll take him over and close him in the barn, and he’ll stay there on bread and water till I give the order to release him. I’ll not have my plans upset by such a wandering vagabond. [_She grabs the switch from JOHN and hits PROF. a lick._] Waken up! or I’ll lift the bark off you. _It has no effect._ JOHN. See that now, Briget. He’s paralysed. MRS. S. And them Kilroys coming at six o’clock! JOHN. If we could get him upstairs, Briget ... and let him lie in the back room.... MRS. S. [_explodes and batters PROF._]. Get up! Rise! Wake up--or I’ll finish you! JOHN [_takes the switch from her_]. Don’t do that, woman! Don’t hammer the unfortunate. PROF. [_awake_]. What’s the row? MRS. S. Get up. PROF. Where am I? Who struck me with the marlin spike? MRS. S. I did. Get up. PROF. Hallo, sister Briget! Glad to see you. [_Yawns._] I’m awful tired. MRS. S. Well, there’s a room upstairs ready for you. Go up and lie down. John’ll help you up. PROF. What time is’t? MRS. S. It’s bed-time. JOHN. Ah, no, Briget. It’s not six o’clock yet. MRS. S. [_to JOHN_]. Big head! PROF. [_blinking_]. I’m not going to bed at six o’clock.... Like in a reformatory.... I want a drink. I’m dry.... MRS. S. You’ll get no drink here. Not a spark. PROF. My valise! Where’s my valise? MRS. S. It’s here. [_To JOHN_] Take it up to the back room, John. Quick now. _JOHN goes off with valise._ PROF. Come back here, Johnny? Come back, you little cutworm. [_Draws knife._] Gum, I’ll teach you crofters’ manners. [_Goes out after JOHN._] MRS. S. Oh, sweet bad luck to you! And the same to big, windy Kilroy, for leaving you on the platform instead of flinging you into the train.... _PEGGY comes in back._ PEGGY. What’s wrong, mother? MRS. S. What’s not wrong? PEGGY. Where’s uncle Tim? MRS. S. The last I saw of him he was chasing our father upstairs with a knife. This house is going straight to the devil. PEGGY. Gracious, he might hurt father. MRS. S. He hasn’t the least intention of hurting father! He knows soft John too well for that. PEGGY. There’s always something wrong in this house. MRS. S. Yes, and there’s something wrong with you, too! You’ve been flitting about all afternoon like a ghost. Don’t tell me you haven’t, for I’ve eyes in my head. PEGGY. Well, mother, you do have some silly notions. You’d think I was only sixteen. MRS. S. Your age has nothing whatever to do with it. You’re under my care till Joseph Kilroy takes you off my hand, then you’ll be your own mistress. PEGGY. You’re making a sermon out of nothing.