_Mrs. O'K_.--Conn niver did an honest day's work in his life--but
dhrinkin' and fishin', an' shootin', an' sportin', and love-makin'.

_Moya_.--Sure, that's how the quality pass their lives.

_Mrs. O'K_.--That's it. A poor man that sports the sowl of a
gintleman is called a blackguard.

(_At this moment Conn appears in the doorway_.)

_Conn_.--(_At left_.) Some one is talkin' about me! Ah, Moya,
Darlin', come here. (_Business as if he reached out his hands to Moya as
he comes forward to meet her, and passes her over to his left so he seems
to stand in center between Moya on left and Mrs. O'Kelly on right_.)
Was the old Mother thryin' to make little o' me? Don't you belave a word
that comes out o' her! She's jealous o' me. (_Laughing as he shakes his
finger at his mother_.) Yes, ye are! You're chokin' wid it this very
minute! Oh, Moya darlin', she's jealous to see my two arms about ye. But
she's proud o' me. Oh, she's proud o' me as an old him that's got a duck
for a chicken. Howld your whist now Mother! Wipe your mouth and give me a
kiss.

_Mrs. O'K_.--Oh, Conn, what have you been afther? The polls have been
in the cabin today about ye. They say you stole Squire Foley's horse.

_Conn_.--Stole his horse! Sure the baste is safe and sound in his
paddock this minute.

_Mrs. O'K_.--But he says you stole it for the day to go huntin'?