Now wait till I get it hammered intill ye. Now when that man's drunk, he's boun' to ha'e been drinkin'. [He hesitates and is obviously confused. Then suddenly seems to grasp the idea he wants.] Aye--in a public house o' coorse. JOHN GRAEME. O' coorse. What else would he do there but drink. WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN. Now that man gets drunk. [He looks inquiringly at Graeme] JOHN GRAEME. [Hopelessly.] Aye. WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN. Now the public houses are that scarce that he has till walk home maybe ten mile or more. JOHN GRAEME. Well? WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN. And ten till wan he gets lost or somethin', and they have the whole countryside upset lookin' for him. Now if he had a public house convanient in his own townland, there would be no bother at all, and he could be at his work the next mornin' wi'out any interruptin' o' labour. D'ye see what I mane? MRS. GRANAHAN. [Suddenly appearing at door evidently angry.] The more public houses the less drinkin' did he say? If he had _his_ way o' it, every other house from here to Buckna would be a public house. [To husband.] Quit your wastin' Mr. Graeme's time wi' your argyments, and settle what he has come here to do wi' ye. WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN. Well. Well. We'll agree till let the matter drop. You ha'e nobody but your daughter I suppose? JOHN GRAEME. Well I ha'e a sister married up in Dublin. WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN. But she's in a good way o' doin' I suppose? JOHN GRAEME. Oh yes. Purty fair. O' coorse I would like to lave her somethin'. WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN. Ach, gi'e her a lock o' your hair or somethin'. You'll lave the place to your daughter o' coorse. JOHN GRAEME. Yes. I'll be doin' that. WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN. Aye. It's a purty fair farm o' land. Ye bought it out o' coorse? JOHN GRAEME. Two year come March, and a good reduction. WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN. Aye. So I heerd. Well if ye gi'e her the farm and what money ye ha'e, I'll gi'e Robbie a cheque for a hunnert poun'. JOHN GRAEME. [Impressively.] William John Granahan d'ye think this is a horse fair? My daughter will ha'e no man unner five hunnert poun'. WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN. [Uneasily and walking about.] Man, you'll nivir get her married John Graeme, at that way o' talkin'. Five hunnert poun'. D'ye think I'm a Rockyfellow? Ha'e some sense about ye. JOHN GRAEME. Aither that or no son o' yours weds my daughter. Five hunnert poun' and not one ha'penny less. There's the family name to be thought o'. WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN. Ach! family name! a lock o' ould wives' blathers about who was married till who, till you'd have your head sore takin' it all in.