Part 4
PROF. It’s been stolen in London and restored to me in Japan. [_He opens it._] A man might as well try to lose his third wife....
PEGGY. Aren’t you coming home, uncle?
PROF. [_takes out a cleft hazel rod_]. I’m going to do a little professional work. I’ve an idea this house is built on a spring. [_He starts prospecting for water._]
PEGGY. Uncle!
O’C. Leave him alone, Peggy. It’s interesting.
PROF. There’s water here, somewhere. [_The rod vibrates._] Wo, gal! [_The rod dips quickly._] Gum, this is powerful! [_The rod twists itself violently out of his hands._] Three springs converge to a point at fifty feet, Hugh.
O’C. It must be a lake.
PROF. A lake has got no life. It’s dead. A spring has a pulse and lives. I can hear a spring breathing.
PEGGY. Now, uncle, aren’t you coming home? You’ve done very well. You’ve shown us up....
O’C. Yes, you’d better go home with your niece, Tim. I’ll see you again before I go away.
PROF. Right, boss. [_He puts the rod in the valise and is going out with PEGGY._]
O’C. If you leave your valise in the hall I’ll send Paddy over with it.
PEGGY. Thanks, Hugh. [_She and the PROF. go out._]
O’C. [_calls_]. Are you there, Paddy?
MOLL [_off_]. Paddy’s in the stable, master. [_She comes in._] Is it anything very urgent?
O’C. No. You can tell Paddy to take the Professor’s valise over to Scally’s later on.
MOLL. I’ll tell him. [_Sighing_] Och, hum! I hate to break the news, master. But the auctioneer’s coming....
O’C. I heard the car, Moll. Let him come. The sooner it’s over the better. [_Looking out_] It’s going to rain....
MOLL [_going_]. I hope it rains heavens hard ... and drowns the grabbers! [_Goes out._]
O’C. [_turns uncle’s portrait face to wall_]. Poor old man! You mustn’t see the last act in this drama.
_MR. ALLISON comes in, attaché-case in hand._
ALLISON. Good morning, Mr. O’Cahan. You’ll hardly believe this. I’d rather go a thousand miles than do this job.
O’C. I certainly don’t believe a word of it, Sam. But I quite understand--you have to say something. Even the undertaker has to say something.
ALLISON. Perhaps you’ll believe this. I take no special pleasure in selling you up.
O’C. That’s better. You’ve no respect of person. The sale’s the thing.
ALLISON. You’re cynical.
O’C. Just the least bit. But you can believe this, Sam. If there’s anything in it, since it has to be sold anyhow, I’d rather see you here than anyone else.
ALLISON. Thanks, Hugh. I know it.... James Kilroy is going to buy it.
O’C. So I’m told.
ALLISON. Have you anyone here to run it up on him?
O’C. No, sir. I don’t believe in doing dirty work for the Bank.
ALLISON. Paddy Kinney has destroyed all chance of a sale. He made a house-to-house canvass and got the neighbours to boycott the auction.
O’C. If he did I knew nothing about it. But it’s like a thing Paddy would do.
ALLISON. I’m going to tell you a secret, Hugh. The Bank’s reserve is three thousand pounds. If it doesn’t make that at the auction it won’t be sold.
O’C. It won’t make it.
ALLISON. Then Kilroy’ll have a private deal with the Bank. You see? You ought to’ve had someone here to run it up.
O’C. My dear sir, sale or no sale, I’m clearing out to-night. I don’t care whether it makes three thousand pounds or three-ha’pence.
ALLISON. Oh, that’s different.
_KILROY, JOSEPH, and JOHN appear in the doorway._
KILROY. I hope we’re not intruding. It’s going to rain.
O’C. No intrusion. This is an auction. Come in.
_All three come in. O’C. stands on the hearth-rug and trims his finger-nails._
KILROY. You’re not going to’ve a big crowd, Mr. Allison.
ALLISON. Evidently not.
O’C. The number of local grabbers is smaller, Mr. Kilroy, than you thought.
KILROY. I don’t like the way you put that, sir!
O’C. I thought you wouldn’t like it. That’s why I put it that way.
KILROY [_hotly_]. Do you call me a grabber?
O’C. Now, now. Don’t lose your head. This isn’t the Rural Council.
KILROY. By heavens, O’Cahan, you and your uncle always treated me like dirt!
O’C. We always liked to treat a man as we found him.
KILROY. But it’s my turn now. I’m here to buy Rush Hill, and I don’t care who it angers or who it pleases.... Now, Mr. Allison, read the terms. It’s long after eleven o’clock.
_PADDY comes in dressed like a man of means._
PADDY. Is the sile ovah?
ALLISON. No, sir. It’s not on yet.
PADDY. Awh, that’s lucky.
KILROY. Read the terms, Mr. Allison.
ALLISON. I’ll go out to the front steps....
KILROY. Well, come ahead. I don’t care where you read them.
_KILROY, JOSEPH, PADDY, JOHN, and ALLISON go out._
O’C. [_stands listening_]. I wonder who put Kinney up to this!... Probably his own notion.... [_Smiles._] Poor old Paddy! He’s as much a part of Rush Hill as the O’Cahans.
_MRS. SCALLY comes in._
MRS. S. Where is my daughter?
O’C. Which of them?
MRS. S. Peggy!
O’C. I don’t know, madam, where she is.
MRS. S. Don’t you dare to stand there and tell me you don’t know! She came over here half an hour ago....
O’C. I’m afraid that sort of talk has no effect on me. You see I’m neither your husband nor one of your offspring.
MRS. S. Thank God, you’re nothing to me!
O’C. Amen. One couldn’t be too grateful.
MRS. S. You’ve lost everything but the O’Cahan cheek.
O’C. And you have gained everything but good manners.
MRS. S. While I’m here I’ll give you a bit of my mind. You’re a disgrace to the parish. A living disgrace.
O’C. Thank you for saying it to my face. You’ve been saying it a long time behind my back.
MRS. S. Everything I said was true.
O’C. [_shrugs_]. I never contradicted anything.
MRS. S. Because you couldn’t. The proof is written all over Rush Hill.... The tree is known by its fruit.
O’C. In Ireland a man is better known by the number of people who stay away from his auction.
MRS. S. [_looks around_]. Lord above! The condition of this room tells a long story. Confusion and calamity.
O’C. It was very amusing here a few minutes ago. The eminent Professor was prospecting for water.
MRS. S. You’re a likely one to be throwing stones.
O’C. I’m not throwing any stones. I think Professor Tim a very interesting man.
MRS. S. You and the Professor have a great deal in common, no doubt.
O’C. Much more than you could imagine. There are only two sorts of people in the world. Interesting people and bores. I can never have too much of the one, nor too little of the other. [_Yawns in his sleeve._]
MRS. S. I ask you again, where is Peggy?
O’C. She isn’t here, madam. She and the Professor returned to your hospitable roof a little while ago.
MRS. S. Did they go the back way?
O’C. Evidently, since you didn’t meet them on the front way.
MRS. S. And what’s the valise doing in the hall?
O’C. It’s waiting for Paddy Kinney to carry it across. You can have it if you wish.
MRS. S. That’s all I wanted to know! I’ll stay here for the auction.
O’C. You’re very welcome. Won’t you sit down?
MRS. S. No, I’ll just look about me....
_ALLISON puts his head in._
ALLISON. Mr. O’Cahan, could I have something to stand up on? I’m going to auction in the hall. It’s going to be a downpour....
O’C. Why not come in here? I haven’t the smallest objection.
MRS. S. Come in, Mr. Allison. Come in, Mr. Kilroy.
_ALLISON, KILROY, JOSEPH, JOHN and PADDY come in._
ALLISON [_mounting a chair_]. I suppose we may as well commence....
MRS. S. God bless me, is this all the people?
ALLISON. I’m sorry to say it is, madam. The sale has been boycotted.
MRS. S. Oh, well. It’ll just go all the cheaper.
ALLISON [_takes out hammer_]. Gentlemen, you’ve heard the terms of sale. I’ve also told you that the Bank has fixed a reserve price below which Rush Hill can’t be sold to-day.... Now, I’ll take offers....
MRS. S. Come, John. Bid up.
JOHN [_dourly_]. Let somebody else start it. I hate these auction-outs.
_MOLL appears in the doorway._
MOLL. Here’s the great Professor Tim ... looking for his sister Briget Scally....
KILROY. Good, good! Bring in the Professor! This is very lucky....
MRS. S. [_reeling towards door_]. No, no no! Don’t let him in....
_She tries to push out past MOLL, who shoves her back into the room._
MOLL. Stay in there, Vanity Fair! till the hand of God falls on you in public. [_Shouts_] Come in, Professor! Come in. Your sister Briget’s just dying to meet you....
_PROF. staggers in. KILROY gasps._
PROF. Hallo, all! Am I in time? Gum, it’s an infinitely small auction.
KILROY. Who in the devil’s name is this?
MRS. S. James Kilroy, this is my brother. He gave me to understand he was a Professor. And there he’s after twenty years’ rambling. A disgrace. And Hugh O’Cahan has made the most of him.
KILROY. I see. This has been all staged before. But it won’t work.
MRS. S. That’s the style, James. That’s common sense. This tramp’s visit needn’t interfere with our plans. He’ll go off to-night.... He can go with O’Cahan....
PROF. I’ll go off when I’m ready. [_To ALLISON_] Go on, mister. Open the bazaar. It’s over twenty years since I attended an Irish auction.
KILROY. Go ahead, Allison. Five hundred pounds.
ALLISON. I won’t take that bid.
PADDY. Fifteen ’undred.
MOLL. Hurrah!
ALLISON. I’ll take that bid. I’m offered fifteen hundred pounds....
PROF. Two thousand! Gum, it’s worth that between a Scot and a Jew.
MRS. S. Mr. Allison, this man hasn’t a white sixpence. I’ll have to give him what’ll take him away....
PADDY. Twenty-two ’undred.
ALLISON. Steady now, gentlemen. I’m bid twenty-two hundred pounds.
JOSEPH [_wildly_]. Twenty-two-fifty!
KILROY. Easy now, Joseph! Easy. Don’t get excited.... [_He drags JOSEPH away._]
PADDY. Twenty-four ’undred.
PROF. Twenty-five hundred.
PADDY. Twenty-six.
PROF. Twenty-seven.
PADDY. Twenty-nine.
PROF. [_to PADDY_]. Gum, you’re a crafty gentleman. You want it knocked down to me at three thousand....
_The KILROYS and MRS. S. are on the nerves._
KILROY [_loudly_]. This is a put-up job! The whole thing--Professor and all--is a piece of O’Cahan’s twisting....
O’C. [_strides across to KILROY_]. Say that again!
JOSEPH [_gets behind his father_]. Now, father. Into him!
KILROY [_afraid_]. Didn’t you call me a grabber?
O’C. And what the blazes else are you? Haven’t you got a home of your own?
JOSEPH. Intil him, father!
O’C. Listen to me, Kilroy! I’ve been taught in good company to keep my temper. To win or lose all like a sportsman. But no man ever called me a twister twice. I’ll let you slip this once. But if you speak to me again, so help me God, you and your clown of a son’ll leave this room feet first! [_Goes back to his place._]
JOSEPH [_shivering_]. Intil him, father! He struck me with a whip this morning....
PROF. My advice to you, young man, is to keep quiet. Your father is too old, and you’re too young. And I’ve grave doubts as to your courage.
ALLISON. I’m selling this farm. You can exchange compliments later on. [_To PADDY_] Your last bid is twenty-nine hundred pounds, sir?
PADDY. Yes. Knock it dahn.
ALLISON. I’m offered two thousand nine hundred pounds by a strange gentleman who has evidently come to buy Rush Hill and who has no quarrel with anyone. Any advance?
PROF. Another fifty pounds. Keep the ball rolling....
MRS. S. [_shrieks_]. Don’t take his bid! The man couldn’t buy a box of matches.... James Kilroy, a word with you and Joseph.
_MRS. S., KILROY and JOSEPH confer._
PROF. Did you take my bid, mister?
ALLISON. No, sir. I don’t want to hear from you again. If you have money to buy Rush Hill, you ought to invest a little in soap and a shave....
PROF. Mister, you’ve no more brains than that hammer.
_KILROYS and MRS. S. come back._
ALLISON. Well, Mr. Kilroy. Are you going to give us another bid?
JOSEPH. Gwon, father.
KILROY [_after a glance at PADDY_]. Three thousand pound....
PADDY. Thirty-one ’undred.
KILROY [_losing his head_]. Thirty-two hundred.
PADDY. Thirty-three.
KILROY [_dancing_]. Thirty-four.
PADDY. Thirty-four-fifty.
KILROY. Thirty-five hundred!
PADDY [_turns away_]. I’m through.
KILROY [_grabs hold of him_]. Don’t go away. Stand your ground like a man....
PADDY [_freeing himself_]. Mind your own business. I’m through.
ALLISON. At three thousand five hundred pounds ... going ... going....
KILROY. Don’t, Allison! Wait a minute. [_Looks wildly at PADDY_] Come on, man. Give it another bid.
PADDY. No more. I’m through. [_Exit, followed by MOLL._]
ALLISON. If no advance, at three thousand five hundred pounds ... going ... going ... gone! Mr. James J. Kilroy’s the buyer.
JOSEPH. Hurrah for my father! The finest man in the nation. He can buy Rush Hill. And I can marry Peggy Scally. [_He runs out._]
KILROY [_sighs_]. I’m ruined.
ALLISON [_getting down_]. Nonsense. It’s worth five thousand pounds. [_Takes out document._] Sign this agreement, James.
KILROY. I’ll sign nothing here. I’ll sign at the Bank. I’m going straight in to the Bank.
ALLISON. I’m the auctioneer. This preliminary agreement has got to be signed here and now.
KILROY [_irritably_]. I’ll not sign it!
ALLISON. All right, sir. As agent for buyer and seller I can sign for both. [_He writes KILROY’S name._]
PROF. That’s right, Allison. Don’t let the big codfish escape....
KILROY [_pulling himself together_]. James J. Kilroy, R.D.C., never hedged in a deal yet. I wanted Rush Hill at less money, but it’s worth all it cost.... Hand me that pen, Allison. I’ll sign.
ALLISON. It’s all right, James. I signed your name. You can meet me in the Bank at two o’clock.
KILROY. I’ll be there!
ALLISON. Good-bye, Mr. O’Cahan. Thank you for treating us so well.
O’C. Don’t mention it, Sam.
_ALLISON goes out._
PROF. We made you pay through the nose for it, Kilroy.
KILROY. Mrs. Scally, if you’ve that man about the house to-night I needn’t bring Mrs. Kilroy....
MRS. S. Leave that to me, James. Bring your wife over at six o’clock as we arranged.
KILROY. Well, I will. [_Goes out._]
MRS. S. John, who was that strange man?
JOHN. I don’t know nor I don’t care!
_PADDY comes in, in his own clothes._
PADDY. The strange man, is it? I can tell you who he was. He was a man the Bank sent out to sweeten it. And I can tell you more. James Kilroy’s the buyer, but he’ll have the devil’s own time getting bail.
JOHN. By hokey, that’s news!
MRS. S. Silence, John. Would you heed a drunken horseboy? [_To PROF._] Now, Tim dear, come with me. You need a good rest. You’re tired....
PROF. [_rising._] Stand back, Briget! I don’t want a good rest--closed in the barn. [_Loudly_] My valise! Where’s my valise?
MRS. S. Where are you going?
PROF. I’m off. Important engagement in London.
MRS. S. That’s a good man. Keep your appointment. Or I’ll put you where you won’t keep any appointments for a day or two. [_To JOHN_] Is James Kilroy away, John?
JOHN. No, he’s talking out at the front.
MRS. S. Tell him to come here. Quick now.
_JOHN goes out._
PROF. My valise!
_MOLL comes in with the old valise._
MOLL. Here’s your valise, Professor. And I suppose all your theological tools are inside of it. [_Lays it beside him._]
PROF. Good-bye, O’Cahan. Thanks for the bread and cheese. That’s more than I have to thank my own sister for.
O’C. Don’t mention it, Professor. [_Gives him money._] Sorry I’m leaving here myself, or you could have lain around and had a rest.
PROF. [_salutes_]. You’re a chip off the old block. In rain or shine, the O’Cahans were fine men. [_Goes to PADDY_] Good-bye, Kinney. Thanks for the two bob....
MRS. S. Lord above, did you take money from Paddy Kinney?
PROF. I did, and was glad to get it.... Good-bye, Paddy.
PADDY. Good-bye, Professor. May we all see better days.
PROF. Adieu, Moll Flanagan. Don’t sit on a barrel of gunpowder with that dress.
MOLL. Good-bye, y’ould wreck ye! Yourself and that portmantual should be taken out to a bog and buried.
PROF. Gum, that’s right, Moll. A long rest in an Irish bog would just suit me. I’m so tired.
_KILROY and JOHN come in._
MRS. S. James Kilroy, will you drive my brother to the station? He wants to catch the first train.
KILROY. I’d drive him to the very devil! [_To PROF._] Where are you going?
PROF. Important engagement in London.
KILROY. Gimme that ould bag! And come with me. [_Takes valise._] It won’t be my fault if you miss the train. [_Exit KILROY._]
PROF. My sister, I won’t bid you good-bye. You treated me like a yellow dog. [_To JOHN_] Good-bye, Johnny. I don’t blame you. You’re only a scarecrow on your own farm. A domestic serf.
JOHN. I’ve no money, Tim, or I’d give you some.
PROF. It’s all right, Johnny. I understand your financial status. Briget carries the purse in her trousers pocket.
_PROF. goes out._
MRS. S. Oh, thank God to be rid of that disgrace!
PADDY. Don’t have your thanksgiving service too soon, Mrs. Scally. He might come back.
MRS. S. Come on, John. We’ll watch till they put him in the trap anyway.
_MRS. S. and JOHN go out._
MOLL. Och, hum, anee, oh! [_Tears down the curtain._]
PADDY. Didn’t I give the mastiff Kilroy a good run for his money, master?
O’C. Very good indeed, Paddy. [_He takes down uncle’s portrait, then points to the sideboard_] Take those cups and things in to O’Hanlon, the vet, Paddy, and tell him to keep them for me till I write for them.... And you and Moll can carry away as much of the other stuff as you like.... I’m leaving Rush Hill to-night.
_O’C. goes out with portrait. PADDY and MOLL exchange a long look, then turn back to back and weep quietly._
_Curtain_
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ACT III
_Same Scene as in Act I. The PROF. has returned from town. He is half asleep in a chair at the table. His valise is lying on the floor._
_PEGGY comes in cautiously from the room. She has a hat and coat and suitcase, which she hides in the lower part of the cupboard._
PEGGY [_regarding PROF._]. Gracious, wasn’t mother and the Kilroys foolish to think you’d go away?... Important engagement in London.... Wake up, uncle!
PROF. [_looks around and scratches his head_]. I wonder to Gawd where I’m now! Paris or London....
PEGGY. You’re all right, uncle. You’re at home ... in Ireland.
PROF. [_parrot-like_]. Pritty Peggy.... Pritty Peggy. Lent me three pounds at five per cent.... Rich or poor you’re my uncle, Peggy.... Full or empty, welcome home.... Order! [_Sleeps._]
PEGGY. It’s perfectly hopeless. [_Exit back._]
PROF. [_sits up again_]. Whisht, Kelly! By some dispensation of Providence you can sing none. Let me try it. [_Sings._]
“I’m a daughter of Daniel O’Connell, From England last week I sailed o’er; The people to me are all strangers And I don’t know my friends from my foes.”
[_Scratching his head_] If a man doesn’t know his friends from his foes he has only to come home broke. [_Sleeps._]
_JOHN comes in back. He is coatless and has the salley switch in his hand._
JOHN. Are you sleeping, Tim? [_No answer._] Waken up, man! I’m going to cart you over to the other farm....
PROF. Whisht, Kelly! You’re simply murdering that. Let me at it. [_Sings_]
“I must confess I am content, no more I wish to roam, So steer my bark for Erin’s Isle, for Erin is my home.”
Gum, Kelly, I’m awful homesick! I’ll go home--if I should have to walk it!
JOHN. Poor fellow.
_MRS. S. comes in from the room. She has her hair done and wears a shiny silk blouse and a conspicuous watch-chain._
MRS. S. Give him a shake, man! Don’t be so gentle with him.
JOHN. I could never cart this man across, Briget, in such a condition. He’s like a lump of wet putty.
MRS. S. You’ll take him over and close him in the barn, and he’ll stay there on bread and water till I give the order to release him. I’ll not have my plans upset by such a wandering vagabond. [_She grabs the switch from JOHN and hits PROF. a lick._] Waken up! or I’ll lift the bark off you.
_It has no effect._
JOHN. See that now, Briget. He’s paralysed.
MRS. S. And them Kilroys coming at six o’clock!
JOHN. If we could get him upstairs, Briget ... and let him lie in the back room....
MRS. S. [_explodes and batters PROF._]. Get up! Rise! Wake up--or I’ll finish you!
JOHN [_takes the switch from her_]. Don’t do that, woman! Don’t hammer the unfortunate.
PROF. [_awake_]. What’s the row?
MRS. S. Get up.
PROF. Where am I? Who struck me with the marlin spike?
MRS. S. I did. Get up.
PROF. Hallo, sister Briget! Glad to see you. [_Yawns._] I’m awful tired.
MRS. S. Well, there’s a room upstairs ready for you. Go up and lie down. John’ll help you up.
PROF. What time is’t?
MRS. S. It’s bed-time.
JOHN. Ah, no, Briget. It’s not six o’clock yet.
MRS. S. [_to JOHN_]. Big head!
PROF. [_blinking_]. I’m not going to bed at six o’clock.... Like in a reformatory.... I want a drink. I’m dry....
MRS. S. You’ll get no drink here. Not a spark.
PROF. My valise! Where’s my valise?
MRS. S. It’s here. [_To JOHN_] Take it up to the back room, John. Quick now.
_JOHN goes off with valise._
PROF. Come back here, Johnny? Come back, you little cutworm. [_Draws knife._] Gum, I’ll teach you crofters’ manners. [_Goes out after JOHN._]
MRS. S. Oh, sweet bad luck to you! And the same to big, windy Kilroy, for leaving you on the platform instead of flinging you into the train....
_PEGGY comes in back._
PEGGY. What’s wrong, mother?
MRS. S. What’s not wrong?
PEGGY. Where’s uncle Tim?
MRS. S. The last I saw of him he was chasing our father upstairs with a knife. This house is going straight to the devil.
PEGGY. Gracious, he might hurt father.
MRS. S. He hasn’t the least intention of hurting father! He knows soft John too well for that.
PEGGY. There’s always something wrong in this house.
MRS. S. Yes, and there’s something wrong with you, too! You’ve been flitting about all afternoon like a ghost. Don’t tell me you haven’t, for I’ve eyes in my head.
PEGGY. Well, mother, you do have some silly notions. You’d think I was only sixteen.
MRS. S. Your age has nothing whatever to do with it. You’re under my care till Joseph Kilroy takes you off my hand, then you’ll be your own mistress.
PEGGY. You’re making a sermon out of nothing.
MRS. S. Well, I’ll cut my sermon short. You’ll marry Joseph Kilroy before you’re a week older. His mother’ll be here in a few minutes, and I’ll make my own arrangements.... Go now and close the parlour windows and have everything ready for tea....
_JOHN comes in right shaking his head._
JOHN. By the hedges, that’s a case. He lay down on the parlour floor and fell asleep.
MRS. S. [_shrieks_]. Why did you let him in there? Go and fetch him out of that. Don’t you know the Kilroys have to sit in there! Drag him out.