_O’Bla._ Then I wonder that ould Matthew McBride is not here yet. But is not this Pat Coxe coming up yonder? Ay. Well, Pat, what success with Catty? _Enter PAT COXE, panting._ Take breath, man alive--What of Catty? _Pat._ Catty! Oh, murder! No time to be talking of Catty now! Sure the shupervizor’s come to town. _O’Bla._ Blood!--and the malt that has not paid duty in the cellar! Run, for your life, to the back-yard, give a whistle to call all the boys that’s ricking o’ the turf, away with ‘em to the cellar, out with every sack of malt that’s in it, through the back-yard, throw all into the middle of the turf-stack, and in the wink of an eye build up the rick over all, snoog (snug). _Pat._ I’ll engage we’ll have it done in a crack. [_Exit PAT._ _O’Bla._ (_calling after him_) Pat! Pat Coxe! man! _Re-enter PAT._ _O’Bla._ Would there be any fear of any o’ the boys _informin_? _Pat._ Sooner cut their ears off! [_Exit PAT._ _Enter Old McBRIDE, at the opposite side._ _Old McB._ (_speaking in a slow, drawling brogue_) Would Mr. Gerald O’Blaney, the counsellor, be within? _O’Bla._ (_quick brogue_) Oh, my best friend, Matthew McBride, is it you, dear? Then here’s Gerald O’Blaney, always at your sarvice. But shake hands; for of all men in Ireland, you are the man I was aching to lay my eyes on. And in the fair did ye happen to meet Carver of Bob’s Fort? _Old McB._ (_speaking very slowly_) Ay. did I--and he was a-talking to me, and I was a-talking to him--and he’s a very good gentleman, Mr. Carver of Bob’s Fort--so he is--and a gentleman that knows how things should be; and he has been giving of me, Mr. O’Blaney, a great account of you, and how you’re thriving in the world--and so as that. _O’Bla._ Nobody should know that better than Mr. Carver of Bob’s Fort--he knows all my affairs. He is an undeniable honest gentleman, for whom I profess the highest regard. _Old McB._ Why then he has a great opinion of you too, counsellor--for he has been advising of, and telling of me, O’Blaney, of your proposhal, sir--and very sinsible I am of the honour done by you to our family, sir--and condescension to the likes of us--though, to be sure, Honor McBride, though she is my daughter, is a match for any man. _O’Bla._ Is a match for a prince--a Prince Ragent even. So no more about condescension, my good Matthew, for love livels all distinctions. _Old McB._ That’s very pretty of you to say so, sir; and I’ll repeat it to Honor. _O’Bla._ Cupid is the great liveller, after all, and the only democrat Daity on earth I’d bow to--for I know you are no democrat, Mr. McBride, but quite and clane the contrary way. _Old McB._ Quite and clane and stiff, I thank my God; and I’m glad, in spite of the vowel before your name, Mr. O’Blaney, to hear you are of the same kidney. _O’Bla._ I’m happy to find myself agreeable to you, sir.