_Caroline._ Indeed she is, and deserves all the care and affection bestowed upon her. (_Enter_ KATIE, R., _with a scrubbing-brush in her hand_.) _Katie._ She's coom, ma'am, she's coom, as rosy and bright as a new copper tay-kettle. _Caroline._ Who? Florence? _Katie._ Indade, it's the truth ye's spakin'; her own swate silf, Miss Ca'line. _Caroline._ Glorious news! I must run to her at once. Come, grandmother. [_Exit_, R. _Mrs. H._ Bless the child! I must go and fix her somethin' warm. _Katie._ Somethin' warm, is it? Faix, jist kape out av the kitchen, d'ye mind, or it's yersilf will git somethin' warm. _Mrs. H._ Wal, I never! The airs that these critters do put on (kee)! [_Exit_, R. _Katie._ Faix, the ould woman's a sore thrial, that she is. There's little chance to kape my sisther Bridget's children in sugar and tay, wid her middlin'. (_Enter_ MAGGIE, L., _with a broom_.) _Maggie._ An' it's mesilf would likes to know what ye mane by demaining yersilf in this fashion, Kate O'Nail. It's little yez know of itikate. _Katie._ Och, be aisy wid yer spakin', Maggie Donovan. Itikate, indade! _Maggie._ Isn't it me privilege to tend the bell, I'd like to know? _Katie._ To be sure it is. But 'twas the darling Miss Florence rowled up to the door; and would I be afther lavin' her on the stips, an' you in the attic? _Maggie._ It's a desateful tongue ye have. Don't I know ye'd be afther liftin' yersilf above yer pots and kittles to my place, to betther yer condition? _Katie._ Betther my condition, is it? Wid what? Swapin' and dustin', and the likes? Niver, at all, at all. When I betther my condition, 'twill be as the widded bride of Terence McFunnigafferty. _Maggie._ McFunnigafferty! Bad luck to him! he's only a hod-carrier. _Katie._ He's dacent and respictable; an' it's my belafe, Maggie Donovan, ye'd be glad av me chance. Haven't I seen ye castin' sly looks that way yersilf? _Maggie._ Oh, murther! An', an' me own b'y, Teddy Murphy, sailin' the thrackless say— _Katie._ Wid a swateheart in ivery port. _Maggie._ Och! it's invious ye are, Kate O'Nail; an' it's out av place ye are above the kitchen shtair. Away wid yez to yer pots and kittles! (_Threatening with broom._) _Katie._ An' its out av place ye are onywhere. Be off to yer swapin'! (_Threatens with brush. Enter_ FLORENCE _and_ CAROLINE, R.) _Florence._ Fie, fie, girls! You're both out of place, quarrelling. Ah, Maggie! I'm glad to meet you again. (_Shakes hands with Maggie._) _Maggie._ Thank you, Miss Florence. An' it's a warm welcome home to yez; an' it's glad I am to see yer own bright face once more.