TOURNOUR He's well off that can get somebody else to do the work for him. _(He continues to sweep towards corridor)_ ALBERT Tournour, you're a damned clever fellow. I heard a piece of yours yesterday that I thought was damned good. TOURNOUR Was it a rhyme? ALBERT It was something called "The Devil's Rambles." TOURNOUR _(taking a step towards him)_ Don't let the boss hear, and I'll tell it to you, Mr. Albert. _(He holds the brush in his hands and is about to begin the recitation when Crofton Crilly enters from the Master's apartments. Crofton Crilly has a presentable appearance. He is big and well made, has a fair beard and blue eyes. A pipe is always in his mouth. He is a loiterer, a talker, a listener)_ CRILLY Are you going to finish the abstracts to-night, Albert? ALBERT I believe I am. Go on with "The Devil's Rambles," Tournour. CRILLY I heard it in Keegan's. It's damn good. TOURNOUR I don't like saying it before Mister Crilly. CRILLY _(with easy contempt)_ Go on with it, man; I'll leave a pint in Keegan's for you. TOURNOUR Well, you mightn't like it. CRILLY Have done talking and go on with it. TOURNOUR _(reciting)_-- "In his chamber above--a--a _person_ lay snug, When the Devil this summons roared in his lug-- 'Get up,' said the Devil, 'and swear you'll be true, And the oath of allegiance I'll tender anew. You'll have pork, veal, and lamb, mutton-chops, fowl and fish, Cabbage and carrots and leeks as you wish. No fast days to you will make visitation, For your sake the town will have dispensation. Long days you will have, without envy or strife, And when you depart you'll find the same life, And in the next world you'll have your will and your sway, With a Poorhouse to govern all your own way, And I'll promise you this; to keep up your state, You'll have Felix Tournour to watch at the gate.'" CRILLY That's damn good. I must get a copy of the whole of it to show at Keegan's. _Tournour has swept as far as the corridor door. He opens it and sweeps down the passage. He goes out and closes door_. CRILLY That's a damn clever fellow. _(He becomes anxious, as with a troubled recollection. He goes to the little cabinet, opens it, and takes out a bottle of whisky and a glass. He pours some whisky into the glass, and remains looking at himself in the mirror. He smooths his beard. He goes to the arm chair with the glass of whisky, the anxious expression still on his face)_ This is a cursed town. _(He drinks)_ ALBERT Every town in Ireland is a cursed town. CRILLY But this is an extraordinarily cursed town. Everybody's in debt to everybody else. I don't know what's to be done. Now, imagine that fellow, James Covey, failing in business and getting clear out of the town. ALBERT Covey seems to have done it well. CRILLY God knows how many he has stuck. ALBERT Well, he didn't stick the Crillys for anything.