_CHRISTY alone._ So this Scotchman could not list Owen. _Couldn’t_ nor _wouldn’t_, that’s what he says; and the Scotchman looked very hard at me as he spoke: moreover, I seen Mr. Gilbert and him with their two heads close together, and that’s a wonder, for I know Gilbert’s not nat’rally fond of any sort of Scotchman. There’s something brewing:--I must have my wits about me, and see and keep sober this night, if I can, any way. From the first I suspicted Mr. Gilbert had his heart on Mabel. (BIDDY DOYLE _puts her head in_) Biddy Doyle! what the mischief does that head of yours do there? _Biddy._ Nothing in life, sir: only just to see who was in it, along with yourself, because I thought I hard talking enough for two. _Christy._ You, girl, have curiosity enough for two, and two dozen, and too much! So plase take your head and yourself out of that, and don’t be overharing my private thoughts; for that was all the talking ye hard, and _my_ thoughts can’t abide listeners. _Biddy._ I’m no listener--I ax your pardon, sir: I scorn to listen to your thoughts, or your words even. [_Exit BIDDY._ _Christy._ That girl has set me topsy-turvy. Where was I?--Oh! this was it. Suppose even, I say, suppose this Gilbert’s fancy should stick to Mabel, I might manage him, nevertheless. I’ve a great advantage and prerogative over this Englishman, in his having never been dipped in the Shannon. He is so _under cow_ with bashfulness now, that I don’t doubt but what in one of his confusions I could asy bring him to say Yes in the wrong place; and sooner than come to a perplexing refusal of a young lady, he might, I’ll engage, be brought about to marry the girl he didn’t like, in lieu of the girl he did. We shall see--but hark! I hear Ferrinafad’s voice, singing, and I must join, and see how the thing’s going on, or going off. [_Exit._ SCENE II. _Miss GALLAGHER and GILBERT at a Tea-Table._ _Gilb._ (_aside_) Now would I give five golden guineas this minute that her father, or any mortal man, woman, or child in the varsal world, would come in and say something; for ‘tis so awk’ard for I to be sitting here, and I nothing to say to she. _Miss G._ (_aside_) When will the man pay me the compliment to speak, I wonder? Wouldn’t any body think he’d no tongue in that mouth of his, screwed up, and blushing from ear to ear? _Enter CHRISTY._ _Christy._ Hoo! hoo! hoo!--How’s this--both of yees mute as fishes the moment I come in? Why I hard you just now, when my back was turned, singing like turtle-doves--didn’t I, Florry? _Miss G._ Indeed, sir, as to turtle-doves, I’m not sinsible; but Mr. Gilbert requisted of me to be favouring him with a song, which I was complying with, though I’m not used to be singing without my piano. _Christy._ (_aside_) Sorrow take your piano! you’re not come there yet.