_Miss G._ Hark till I hear! Is not that a drum I hear? Ay, I had always a quick ear for the drum from my cradle. And there’s the whole band--but it’s only at the turn of the avenue. It’s on parade they are. So I’ll be dressed and dacent before they are here, I’ll engage. And it’s my plaid scarf I’ll throw over all, iligant for the Highlanders, and I don’t doubt but the drum-major will be conquist to it at my feet afore night--and what will Mr. Gilbert say to that? And what matter what he says?--I’m not bound to him, especially as he never popped me the question, being so preposterously bashful, as them Englishmen have the misfortune to be. But that’s not my fault any way. And if I happen to find a more shutable match, while he’s turning the words in his mouth, who’s to blame me?--My father, suppose!--And what matter?--Have not I two hundred pounds of my own, down on the nail, if the worst come to the worst, and why need I be a slave to any man, father or other?--But he’ll kill himself soon with the whiskey, poor man, at the rate he’s going. Two glasses now for his _mornings_, and his _mornings_ are going on all day. There he is, roaring. (_Mr. GALLAGHER heard singing._) You can’t come in here, sir. [_She bolts the door._ _Enter CHRISTY GALLAGHER, kicking the door open._ _Christy._ Can’t I, dear? what will hinder me?--Give me the _kay_ of the spirits, if you plase. _Miss G._ Oh, sir! see how you are walking through all my things. _Christy._ And they on the floor!--where else should I walk, but on the floor, pray, Miss Gallagher?--Is it, like a fly, on the ceiling you’d have me be, walking with my head upside down, to plase you? _Miss G._ Indeed, sir, whatever way you’re walking, it’s with your head upside down, as any body may notice, and that don’t plase me at all--isn’t it a shame, in a morning? _Christy._ Phoo! don’t be talking of shame, you that knows nothing about it. But lend me the kay of the spirits, Florry. _Miss G._ Sir, my name’s Florinda--and I’ve not the kay of the spirits at all, nor any such vulgar thing. _Christy._ Vulgar! is it the kay? _Miss G._ Yes, sir, it’s very vulgar to be keeping of kays. _Christy._ That’s lucky, for I’ve lost all mine now. Every single kay I have in the wide world now I lost, barring this kay of the spirits, and that must be gone after the rest too I b’lieve, since you know nothing of it, unless it be in this here chist. [_CHRISTY goes to the chest._ _Miss G._ Oh, mercy, sir!--Take care of the looking-glass, which is broke already. Oh, then, father, ‘tis not in the chist, ‘pon my word and honour now, if you’ll b’lieve: so don’t be rummaging of all my things. [_CHRISTY persists in opening the chest._