PEGGY [_picks it up_]. I see now what you want. You want mother to come in. You want to make trouble for me.... Here, put this in your pocket. You can throw it in the river. O’C. You live as near the river as I do. Drown them yourself. Make jam of them if you like. PEGGY. Well, you needn’t storm. I’ll find some means of returning them. [_She puts packet in her pocket._] O’C. I’ll tell you how to dispose of them. Hang them on Joseph Kilroy. They’ll improve yon cow’s face of his. PEGGY [_wincing_]. What do you mean, Hugh? O’C. Ah, you must think Hugh’s mighty green. It’s a wonder the goats don’t mistake me for brussels sprouts. PEGGY. You can be very nasty. O’C. Never without reason. You’ve kept Joseph Kilroy tied to your apron-strings to see how things would pan out at Rush Hill. He walks after you like a sheep. I saw you together last night. Is that nasty? PEGGY. Hugh, you ought to’ve more sense. You never look at my side of it at all. I’ve three sisters and three brothers, all single. That’s too many single people in one house. O’C. Well, why don’t they all get married? PEGGY. They were waiting for me to break the ice, and I was waiting for--well, I don’t want to hurt you. O’C. That’s very considerate.... Didn’t I want you to marry me two years ago? And who objected? PEGGY. Everybody objected. They saw the pace you were going and knew how it would end. Everybody could see that but yourself. O’C. You were all great prophets! The Wise Men of the East weren’t a patch on you. But among you you played a pretty safe game anyhow. When I got a good price for a colt your mother smiled like a basket of cats, but when I buried one she frowned like a gargoyle. PEGGY. Whether you got a good price for a colt or buried it made no difference to me. You know that very well, but in your ugly mood you won’t admit it. O’C. Well, it doesn’t matter a pin now anyway. The auction’s at eleven o’clock. I was sorry this morning, but I’m glad now it’s so near. Sale or no sale, I’m clearing out to-night. PEGGY. Do you mind telling me where you’re going? O’C. I wouldn’t mind telling anybody if I knew myself. But I’ve no plans. I may go to South America or Australia. Some place where the horse isn’t doomed for another generation. PEGGY. You and the horse! O’C. Yes, me and the horse! You’ll have no trouble on that score with Joseph Kilroy. He couldn’t lead a horse to the forge. PEGGY. All the better for himself. O’C. As I said, I can go wherever I please. I’ve no home ties. I’m that rare bird you often hear about in Ireland but seldom see--the last man of his race. PEGGY. Well, Hugh, mother ’ill be in soon. I must say good-bye. O’C. Is that the whole farewell? Not even a handshake? PEGGY. What’s the good of it? O’C. None. It takes two to get the good of it. [_Buttoning his jacket_] I apologise, Peggy, for having crossed your path. PEGGY. And I for crossing yours.