WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

I'll just ask him to burn it when he comes in. If he won't, he can just plaze himself. I'll hae no more to do wi' him.

[Suddenly.]

I wunner what his mother would say to that?

SAMUEL JAMES.

She' just as tired of it as you are. Wait; I'll call her in.

[Goes to door back and shouts.]

Are you there ma'am?

MRS. GRANAHAN.

[Without.]

Aye.

[She comes to door, opens it and stands looking inquiringly at both of them.]

Well?

SAMUEL JAMES.

Da's just been talkin' about Robbie John, and he wants you to hear what he says.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

Robbie John's an idle useless paghle. He'll aither mend himself or go out o' this.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

[Sharply.]

Mend yourself first, me good man.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

Its not like as if he tuk a drop o' drink or fell in wi' bad company, for you'll get quet o' drink and bad company if you hae no money.

SAMUEL JAMES.

[Slily.]

It was mother and I larnt you that.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

[Snappishly.]

Will you hould your tongue.

[To Mrs. Granahan.]

When he might ha' been lookin after the cattle or the pigs or somethin else, where is he? Up in the loft playin that d.a.m.nation fiddle o' his.

Night an mornin' he's at it.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

Deed and he's doin badly by it and no mistake. He's not been worth a ha' penny till us, this last six months. I think you do right just to stop him.

SAMUEL JAMES.

I heerd he won three poun' at the Feis last Monday at Newcastle.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

There you are. And he never offered me one ha'penny o' it. Me that brought him up and raired and fed him. Them that plays the fiddle comes to no good end, I can tell ye.

[Reminiscently and with a sort of shame-faced pride.]

Not but I wasn't the great man at it myself wanst. And you were the girl that could ha' danced to it Mary. But thank G.o.d I quet it.

SAMUEL JAMES.

[Curiously.]

Why?

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

I might ha took to drink and bad company and the like.