KILROY. That they may ... may ... always ... always ... always ... have the grace ... grace ... grace ... to always.... _Another heavy smash on the door._ PROF. [_off, yells_]. Open! Open! Open this door. MRS. K. [_frightened_]. In God’s holy name, who’s that? PROF. [_off, loudly_]. It’s me! Professor Tim! Sister Briget has locked me in--trying to hide me! [_Kicks the door._] KILROY. Ah, Mrs. Scally! [_Collapses on chair._] MRS. S. [_rising_]. I may just as well tell the truth, Mrs. Kilroy. It’s my brother. And he’s no credit to me. He’s not the man I expected. MRS. K. Not the Professor, is it? PROF. [_off_]. It is the Professor! Professor Tim. Open up! JOHN. You may open the door, Briget. MRS. S. He’s not ... not presentable. JOHN. If you don’t open the door he’ll present himself. He’ll come through it. MRS. S. [_goes to open door_]. Lie down on the sofa, Tim. And rest yourself. We’ve visitors. PROF. [_off_]. Open up! Amn’t I a visitor, too? MRS. S. Ah, this is cruel! _She unlocks door and PROF. comes in._ PROF. You thought you’d killed me, Briget. Eh? MRS. S. Whisht, now.... You tripped over something. PROF. I tripped over nothing at all. You gimme a heave that sent me heels over kettle.... Here, feel this lump.... [_on his head_]. MRS. S. Nonsense, Tim. You only imagine things.... PROF. Imagination doesn’t raise a lump on a man’s head like an onion. [_Fingers lump gingerly._] MRS. S. Your head’s all wrong. PROF. My head was all right till you smashed it. MRS. S. [_to company_]. He’s half dazed.... PROF. I’m whole dazed with that unmerciful fall you gimme. [_Draws knife._] For two pins I’d slit you! MRS. K. [_screams_]. Oh, James! he’s a knife. _MRS. S. runs away. PEGGY goes to PROF._ PEGGY. Give me that knife. [_She gets knife._] I’ll keep it safe, uncle. PROF. You’d better, pigeon. For that’s the knife I cut my food and baccy with. PEGGY. Come and sit down. PROF. [_coming to table_]. Hallo, all! Who’s this smashing big heifer in the hat? MRS. K. [_afraid_]. James! KILROY. It’s all right, Ellen. He’ll not touch you. [_To PROF._] That’s my wife, sir, Mrs. Kilroy. Isn’t she a good specimen? PROF. Gum, I should say so. She’s like a Burmese idol. MRS. K. [_jumps up_]. James Kilroy, I’m going out of this place! PROF. Sit down, dear. Sit down. I won’t eat you. You’re not my style of muslin.... MRS. K. How dare you speak to me!... James Kilroy, both you and your son told me a parcel of lies! You told me this man was a Professor in Edinburgh University.... PROF. Gum, that was a whopper. MRS. K. And Mrs. Scally backed you up in deceiving me! [_To MRS. S._] You and your Professor! A drunken sailor! [_Marches out back._]