_Catty._ Then I am rasonable now, plase your honour; for I’ll put it to the test--see, I’ll withdraw my examinations entirely, and I’ll recant--and I’ll go farther, I’ll own I’m wrong--(though I know I’m right)--and I’ll beg your pardon, McBrides, if--(but I know I’ll not have to beg your pardon either)--but I say I _will_ beg your pardon, McBrides, _if_, mind _if_, you will accept my test, and it fails me. _Mr. Carv._ Very fair, Mrs. Rooney. _Old McB._ What is it she’s saying? _Phil._ What test, Mrs. Rooney? _Randal._ Dear mother, name your test. _Catty._ Let Honor McBride be summoned, and if she can prove she took no ring, and was not behind the chapel with Randal, nor drinking at Flaherty’s with him, the time she was, I give up all. _Randal._ Agreed, with all the pleasure in life, mother. Oh, may I run for her? _Old McB._ Not a fut, you sir--go, Phil dear. _Phil._ That I will, like a lapwing, father. _Mr. Carv._ Where to, sir--where so precipitate? _Phil._ Only to fetch my sister. _Mr. Carv._ Your sister, sir?--then you need not go far: your sister, Honor McBride, is, I have reason to believe, in this house. _Catty._ So. Under whose protection, I wonder? _Mr. Carv._ Under the protection of Mrs. Carver, madam, into whose service she was desirous to engage herself; and whose advice-- _Clerk._ Shall I, if you please, sir, call Honor in? _Mr. Carv._ If you please. [_A silence.--CATTY stands biting her thumb.--Old McBRIDE leans his chin upon Us hands on his stick, and never stirs, even his eyes.--Young McBRIDE looks out eagerly to the side at which HONOR is expected to enter--RANDAL looking over his shoulder, exclaims--_ There she comes!--Innocence in all her looks. _Catty._ Oh! that we shall see soon. No making a fool of me. _Old McB._ My daughter’s step--I should know it. (_Aside_) How my old heart bates! [_Mr. CARVER takes a chair out of the way._ _Catty._ Walk in--walk on, Miss Honor. Oh, to be sure, Miss Honor will have justice. _Enter HONOR McBRIDE, walking very timidly._ And no need to be ashamed, Miss Honor, until you’re found out. _Mr. Carv._ Silence! _Old McB._ Thank your honour. [_Mr. CARVER whispers to his clerk, and directs him while the following speeches go on._ _Catty._ That’s a very pretty curtsy, Miss Honor--walk on, pray--all the gentlemen’s admiring you--my son Randal beyant all. _Randal._ Mother, I won’t bear-- _Catty._ Can’t you find a sate for her, any of yees? Here’s a stool--give it her, Randal. (_HONOR sits down._) And I hope it won’t prove the stool of repentance, Miss or Madam. Oh, bounce your forehead, Randal--truth must out; you’ve put it to the test, sir. _Randal._ I desire no other for her or myself. [_The father and brother take each a hand of HONOR--support and soothe her._ _Catty._ I’d pity you, Honor, myself, only I know you a McBride--and know you’re desaving me, and all present. _Mr. Carv._ Call that other witness I allude to, clerk, into our presence without delay.