_Phil._ Oh! I must be at him for a horse: you, Honor, mind and back me. _Enter Old McBRIDE._ _Old McB._ Late I am this fair day all along with my beard, that was thicker than a hedgehog’s. Breakfast, where? _Honor._ Here, father dear--all ready. _Old McB._ There’s a jewel! always supple o’ foot. Phil, call to them to bring out the horse bastes, while I swallow my breakfast--and a good one, too. _Phil._ Your horse is all ready standing, sir. But that’s what I wanted to ax you, father--will you be kind enough, sir, to shell out for me the price of a _daacent_ horse, fit to mount a man like me? _Old McB._ What ails the baste you have under you always? _Phil._ Fit only for the hounds:--not to follow, but to feed ‘em. _Old McB._ Hounds! I don’t want you, Phil, to be following the hounds at-all-at-all. _Honor._ But let alone the hounds. If you sell your bullocks well in the fair to-day, father dear, I think you’ll be so kind to spare Phil the price of a horse. _Old McB._ Stand out o’ my way, Honor, with that wheedling voice o’ your own--I won’t. Mind your own affairs--you’re leaguing again me, and I’ll engage Randal Rooney’s at the bottom of all--and the cement that sticks you and Phil so close together. But mind, Madam Honor, if you give him the meeting at the fair the day-- _Honor._ Dear father, I’m not going--I give up the fair o’ purpose, for fear I’d see him. _Old McB._ (_kissing her_) Why then you’re a piece of an angel! _Honor._ And you’ll give my brother the horse? _Old McB._ I won’t! when I’ve said I won’t--I wont. [_Buttons his coat, and exit._ _Phil._ Now there’s a sample of a father for ye! _Old McB._ (_returning_) And, Mistress Honor, may be you’d be staying at home to--Where’s Randal Rooney to be, pray, while I’d be from home? _Honor._ Oh! father, would you suspect-- _Old McB._ (_catching her in his arms, and kissing her again and again_) Then you’re a true angel, every inch of you. But not a word more in favour of the horse--sure the money for the bullocks shall go to your portion, every farthing. _Honor._ There’s the thing! (_Holding her father_) I don’t wish that. _Phil._ (_stopping her mouth_) Say no more, Honor--I’m best pleased so. _Old McB._ (_aside_) I’ll give him the horse, but he sha’n’t know it. (_Aloud_) I won’t. When I say I won’t, did I ever? [_Exit Old McBRIDE._ _Phil._ Never since the world _stud_--to do you justice, you are as obstinate as a mule. Not all the bullocks he’s carrying to the fair the day, nor all the bullocks in Ballynavogue joined to ‘em, in one team, would draw that father o’ mine one inch out of his way. _Honor._ (_aside, with a deep sigh_) Oh, then what will I do about Randal ever! _Phil._ As close a fisted father as ever had the grip of a guinea! If the guineas was all for you--wilcome, Honor! But that’s not it. Pity of a lad o’ spirit like me to be cramped by such a hunx of a father.