shoe-leather, for there's my bed that she has not made yet, and the stairs
with a month's dust always; and never ready by any chance to do a pin's
worth for one, when one's dressing.

[_A drum heard; the sound seems to be approaching near._

_Christy._ Blood! the last rowl of the drum, and I not got the kay of the
spirits.

_Miss G._ Oh, saints above! what's gone with my plaid scarf?--and my hair
_behind_, see!

[_Miss GALLAGHER twists up her hair behind.--BIDDY gathers up the onions
into her apron, and exit hastily.--CHRISTY runs about the room in a
distracted manner, looking under and over every thing, repeating_--The kay!
the kay! the kay!

_Christy._ For the whiskey must be had for them Scotch, and the bottled
beer too for them English; and how will I get all or any without the kay?
Bones, and distraction!

_Miss G._ And my plain hanke'cher that must be had, and where will I find
it, in the name of all the damons, in this chaos you've made me out of the
chist, father? And how will I git all in again, before the drum-major's in
it?

_Christy._ (_sweeping up a heap of things in his arms, and throwing them
into the chest_) Very asy, sure! this ways.

_Miss G._ (_darting forward_) There's the plaid hanke'cher.--(_She draws