_Christy._ Well! stick up a petticoat, or something of the kind, and any way lend me hould of the poker; for, in lieu of a kay, that’s the only frind in need. [_Exit CHRISTY with the poker._ _Miss G._ There, Biddy, that will do--any how.--Just shut down the lid, can’t ye? and find me my other shoe. Biddy--then, lave that,--come out o’ that, do girl, and see the bed!--run there, turn it up just any way;--and Biddy, run here,--stick me this tortise comb in the back of my head--oh! (_screams and starts away from BIDDY._) You ran it fairly into my brain, you did! you’re the grossest! heavy handiest!--fit only to wait on Sheelah na Ghirah, or the like.--(_Turns away from BIDDY with an air of utter contempt._) But I’ll go and resave the major properly.--(_Turns back as she is going, and says to BIDDY_) Biddy, settle all here, can’t ye?--Turn up the bed, and sweep the glass and dust in the dust corner, for it’s here I’m bringing him to dinner,--so settle up all in a minute, do you mind me, Biddy! for your life! [_Exit Miss GALLAGHER._ _BIDDY, alone_--(_speaking while she puts the things in the room in order._) _Settle up all in a minute!_--asy said!--and _for my life_ too!--Why, then, there’s not a greater slave than myself in all Connaught, or the three kingdoms--from the time I get up in the morning, and that’s afore the flight of night, till I get to my bed again at night, and that’s never afore one in the morning! But I wouldn’t value all one pin’s pint, if it was kind and civil she was to me. But after I strive, and strive to the utmost, and beyand--(_sighs deeply_) and when I found the innions, and took the apple-pie off her hands, and settled her behind, and all to the best of my poor ability for her, after, to go and call me Sheelah na Ghirah! though I don’t rightly know who that Sheelah na Ghirah was from Adam--but still it’s the bad language I get, goes to my heart. Oh, if it had but plased Heaven to have cast me my lot in the sarvice of a raal jantleman or lady instead of the likes of these! Now, I’d rather be a dog in his honour’s or her honour’s house than lie under the tongue, of Miss Gallagher, as I do--to say nothing of ould Christy. _Miss GALLAGHER’S voice heard, calling,_ Biddy! Biddy Doyle! Biddy, can’t ye? _Biddy._ Here, miss, in the room, readying it, I am. _CHRISTY GALLAGHER’S voice heard calling,_ Biddy!--Biddy Doyle!--Biddy, girl! What’s come o’ that girl, that always out o’ the way idling, when wanted?--Plague take her! _Biddy._ Saints above! hear him now!--But I scorn to answer. _Screaming louder in mingled voices, CHRISTY’S and Miss GALLAGHER’S,_ Biddy! Biddy Doyle!--Biddy, girl! _Christy._ (_putting in his head_) Biddy! sorrow take ye! are ye in it?--And you are, and we cracking our vitals calling you. What is it you’re dallying here for? Stir! stir! dinner! [_He draws back his head, and exit._ _BIDDY, alone._