_Mr. Carv._ Now for your defence, Philip: be short, for mercy’s sake! (_pulling out his watch._) _Phil._ Not to be detaining your honour too long--I was in Ballynavogue this forenoon, and was just--that is, Miss Car’line Flaherty was just-- _Mr. Carv._ Miss Caroline Flaherty! What in nature can she have to do with the business? _Phil._ Only axing me, sir, she was, to play the flageolets, which was the rason I was sitting at Flaherty’s. _Mr. Carv._ Address yourself to the court, young man. _Phil._ Sitting at Flaherty’s--in the parlour, with the door open, and all the McBrides which was _in it_ was in the outer room taking a toombler o’ punch I trated ‘em to--but not drinking--not a man _out o’ the way_--when in comes that gentlewoman. (_Pointing to Mrs. ROONEY.--RANDAL groans._) Never fear, Randal, I’ll tell it as soft as I can. _Old McB._ Soft, why? Mighty soft cratur ever since he was born, plase your honour, though he’s my son. _Mr. Carv._ (_putting his fingers on his lips_) Friend Matthew, no reflections in a court of justice ever. Go on, Philip. _Phil._ So some one having tould Mrs. Rooney lies, as I’m confident, sir--for she come in quite _mad_, and abused my sister Honor; accusing her, before all, of being sitting and giving her company to Randal Rooney at Flaherty’s, drinking, and something about a ring, and a meeting behind the chapel, which I couldn’t understand;--but it fired me, and I stepped--but I recollected I’d promised Honor not to let her provoke me to lift a hand good or bad--so I stepped across very civil, and I said to her, says I, Ma’am, it’s all lies--some one has been belying Honor McBride to you, Mrs. Rooney. [_CATTY sighs and groans, striking the back of one hand reiteratedly into the palm of the other--rises--beats the devil’s tattoo as she stands--then claps her hands again._ _Mr. Carv._ That woman has certainly more ways of making a noise, without speaking, than any woman upon earth. Proceed, Philip.