GRANDFATHER. Och aye. Let the boy enjoy himself. You're only young wanst you know, Mary. ELLEN. I think it must be a great thing to be a great musician. Sometimes I believe Robbie should try his luck with that fiddle of his. Somehow I know--I feel he _is_ a genius at it. MRS. GRANAHAN. What notions you do have to be sure. To think of a big grown man like Robbie John spending his life-time at an old fiddle. [Sharply.] Blathers and nonsense. Its time that boy was out lookin' at the cattle. [Calls.] Are you there Robbie? [Louder.] Robbie John. ROBBIE JOHN. [From without. The fiddle ceases suddenly and he comes and stands with it in his hand at the door.] Aye. MRS. GRANAHAN. You'd better go down to the low field and see the cattle haven't broken through into Aura Boyd's corn. You couldn't keep them beasts in when the flies gets at them. ROBBIE JOHN. Just one second till I try this again. MRS. GRANAHAN. Now, will you go when I tell you. You and your ould fiddle. It'll be the death of you yet. Mind what I say. ROBBIE JOHN. [Coming through door and standing there.] Bad cess to the cattle and Aura Boyd. GRANDFATHER. He's a tarr'ble unneighbourly man. MRS. GRANAHAN. He's a cross grained man right enough, but it wouldn't do to have the cattle trampin' and eatin' his corn. ROBBIE JOHN. I was down there only ten minutes ago when you sent me, and they were eatin' there quite peaceable. MRS. GRANAHAN. Now will you go Robbie John when your mother wants you. Aura Boyd sent over here this forenoon to say if that Kerry cow broke into his field again he'd have the law agin us. ROBBIE JOHN. Och, he's a cross ould cratur. Sure, she had only one foot through the hedge when he turned her. [He sees mother is getting impatient.] All right; I'm away. [He goes back into room, leaves fiddle there, comes into kitchen again and goes out by door to yard.] MRS. GRANAHAN. He's as ill to drive as the ould mare to meetin' a Sundays. [She goes and looks through door into room.] Look at the time it is and your father and Samuel James niver back yet Ellen. They're terrible late o' comin'. ELLEN. Och, I suppose they've met some dealer at the fair and are driving a hard bargain as usual. GRANDFATHER. I wonner if they got that foal red off their hands yet. It'll be a job I'm thinkin'. He was a miserable baste, and tarr'ble broken in the wind. ELLEN.