_Darby:_ The grandest house around the seas of Ireland he should
have, beautifully made up! You would nearly go astray in it! It
wouldn't be known what you could make of it at all! You wouldn't
have it walked in a month!

_Taig:_ What is that beside having a range of shops as wide maybe
as the street beyond?

_Darby:_ A house would be the capital of the county! One door for
the rich, one door for the common! Velvet carpets rolled up, the way
there would no dust from the chimney fall upon them. A hundred
wouldn't be many standing in a corner of that place! A high bed of
feathers, curled hair mattresses. A cover laid on it would be flowery
with blossoms of gold!

_Taig:_ Muslin and gauze, cambric and linen! Canton crossbar!
Glass windows full up of ribbons as gaudy as the crooked bow in the
sky! Sovereigns and shillings in and out as plenty as to riddle rape
seed. Sure them that do be selling in shops die leaving millions.

_Darby:_ Your man is not so good as mine in his office or in his
billet.

_Taig:_ There is the horn of the coach. Get out now till I'll
prepare myself. He might chance to come seeking for me here.

_Darby:_ There's a lather of sweat on myself. That's my tin can of
water!