The same scene. Ellen and Mrs. Granahan seated near fire.

Ellen.

So Mr. Graeme is comin’ over here to settle matters with father to-day do you say?

Mrs. Granahan.

Yes child, he’s comin’ to-day.

Ellen.

What is it all about?

Mrs. Granahan.

Well I suppose he’s anxious to see what money is comin’ to Robbie John. He doesn’t want to throw his daughter away without askin’ questions. I expeck she’s well enough to do to marry anyone she likes, but he’s a canny man.

Ellen.

Well I suppose he’s right. He must be anxious to see her well married.

Mrs. Granahan.

Oh now between the two of them, Robbie John will be a sight better off, nor your father and I, Ellen when we married.

Ellen.

Robbie’s a lucky man too. I never seen anyone as fond of him as she is. I wonner when father will be goin’ to see anyone about me?

Mrs. Granahan.

Oh whist child, your time’s comin’. Who was it left ye home from John Graeme’s temperance lecture?

Ellen.

[Slily.]

That’s a secret.

Mrs. Granahan.

[Knowingly.]

Not till me. He’s a brave body anyway.

Ellen.

Who?

Mrs. Granahan.

Now you’re the soft lassie. Who’s the manager of the creamery up beyont?

Ellen.

[Unsuspectingly,]

Tom Taylor of course.

Mrs. Granahan.

And of coorse it was Tom Taylor left ye home.

[Knock at the door.]

Come in. Come in.

[Taylor enters.]

Why speak o’ the divil how d’ye do Mr. Taylor.

Taylor.

[He comes in, stands rather awkwardly looking at Ellen, and then goes over near them.]

Very well, thank you, ma’am.

Mrs. Granahan.

This is my daughter Ellen.

[Slily.]

I think ye met her afore.

Taylor.

[Shaking hands with Ellen, he detains her hand for a second and then drops it.]

We did, I think, didn’t we?

Mrs. Granahan.

[Knowingly.]

I just thought as much.

[Aside.]

Oh well, he’s a brave body and would do rightly if the creamery does the same.

[Suddenly to Taylor.]

Are ye coortin’ any this weather Mr. Taylor?

Taylor.

[Taken aback. Then decides to laugh it off.]

Well eh no. I’m not doin’ much that way.

Mrs. Granahan.

[Incredulously.]

Oh indeed. Well I heerd otherwise. Its full time ye were lookin’ about for a wife. You’ll be gettin’ well on past thirty soon.

Taylor.

[Fidgeting uneasily.]

Oh I’m time enough for a couple of years or more. I want to look round me a bit.

Mrs. Granahan.

Well ye better look sharp, for you’ll soon be getting too ould for gettin’ any sort of a dasint girl.

[Inquisitively.]

Ha’e ye anyone in your eye yet?

Taylor.

I have an account to pay your good man Mrs. Granahan.

Mrs. Granahan.

Two poun’ ten is due.

[Thinking.]

Aye. But I suppose you’ll be now in what I would call a good way o’ doin’.

Taylor.

There was a five per cent. dividend this half year. The creamery’s goin’ on well.

[Searching in pocket and getting out account.]

Two pounds, nine and six, ma’am, beggin’ your pardon.

Mrs. Granahan.

Ach sure sixpence is naither here nor there to a creamery.

[Pauses.]

If that’s the way you are, you could be married in a year’s time and

Taylor.

[Evidently desirous to lead conversation off this topic.]

Here’s the money, ma’am.

[He lays it down on the table and counts it out.]

You’ll do as well as Mr. Granahan, I suppose. You take all to do with the money part I think.

Mrs. Granahan.

Yes I do. You were at the lecture last Monday?

Taylor.

[Alarmed.]

What the divil

[Suddenly to Mrs. Granahan and genially.]

Yes. Could you oblige me with a receipt ma’am?

Mrs. Granahan.

Surely. Here Ellen, get me the pen and ink.

[Ellen goes into room.]

I suppose now there were some nice young weemin there eh Mr. Taylor?

Taylor.

[Uneasily.]

Yes. And don’t forget the stamp ma’am.

Mrs. Granahan.

Ach sure a penny stamp’s what you always carry wi’ ye.

[Confidentially.]

I think shame on ye Mr. Taylor, triflin’ wi’ the poor girls. There’s no excuse for a man o’ your age.

Taylor.

[Fidgeting.]

Well, well, I Here’s a stamp ma’am.

[Impatiently.]

I’m young enough yet. I don’t want to marry yet awhile.

Mrs. Granahan.

Well now I think ye’d be better o’ some one to look after ye. There’s William John Granahan. He’s niver done bein’ thankful since he married. He says he doesn’t know what he mightn’t ha’ been, if he hadn’t married me.

Taylor.

[Slily.]

I can quite believe that.

Mrs. Granahan.

It was a good job for him, I can tell ye. For what wi’ goin’ to dances and the like and public houses, he was for making a nice mess o’ himself.

[Confidentially.]

And between you and me, Ellen will no’ be so badly off aither when he goes.

[Ellen comes in and puts paper, &c on table.]

Taylor.

Here’s the stamp ma’am.

Mrs. Granahan.

[Not noticing.]

And there’s a girl for you Mr. Taylor, that we spent a dale o’ time over, and was brought up most careful. She’s none o’ your or’nary girls.

Ellen.

[Sharply.]

Oh mother!

[She looks at Taylor, smiles, and shrugs her shoulders.]

Mrs. Granahan.

[Motioning silence.]

There’s too many girls runnin’ about and all they can do is sing a song or two, and dress themselves up like play actresses, and run about at bazaars and the like trying to get ahoult o’ young men.

Taylor.

You’re quite right ma’am.

Mrs. Granahan.

Now there’s Ellen was four years at a boardin’ school that Mr. Graeme recommended till us, and I can tell you she got the proper schoolin’, and let alone that, she can bake, sew or knit, and knows all about the managin’ of a house.

Ellen.

Oh quit!

[She looks diffidently across at Taylor, who grins.]

Mrs. Granahan.

[Counting money.]

Here. It’s sixpence short o’ the count.

Taylor.

Let me see.

[He goes to table and counts money.]

Two and two’s four, and two’s six, and two and six is eight and six, and one shillin’ nine and six.

Mrs. Granahan.

[Thinking.]

Nine and six. I thought it was oh yes it was nine and six.

Taylor.

Yes. Nine and six.

Mrs. Granahan.

Very good. I’ll write you a receip’.

[Takes pen and paper.]

Ellen.

[To Taylor who stands looking over at her.]

You haven’t been round this way a long time Mr. Taylor. What ailed you, you didn’t call?

Taylor.

Oh I was very busy.

[He looks at Mrs. Granahan who is writing laboriously. Then goes and examines a fiddle that hangs on the wall.]

Ha! I thought Robbie John had burnt his fiddle and promised to play no more.

Mrs. Granahan.

Aye so he did, but there’s a strange story wi’ that thing you’re lookin’ at. There was a tramp come here one day I was out, and when I come back, I found him playin’ away on that thing, and the house in an uproar.

Taylor.

Aye? He left it here then?

Mrs. Granahan.

No, wait till I tell ye. I packed him out o’ this, and the next thing I heerd about him was when a wheen o’ weeks ago he was got half dead wi’ wet and could in the Flough Moss. John McKillop was down for cutting turf, and foun’ him in a peat hole, wi’ his hands on the brew, and the ould fiddle beside him.

Ellen.

Yes. The poor soul died the next day, and just before he died he asked McKillop to bring over his fiddle to give to Robbie John. Robbie had been kind to him sometime or other, and the poor bein’ never forgot it.

Taylor.

Ach aye. I do remember hearin’ somethin’ about it. They said he had been a big man in his day I think.

Mrs. Granahan.

Aye. He was blatherin the day he was here about bein’ the leader of an ould band or somethin’ like, now that I call to mind. But indeed I paid no heed till him, for he was part drunk.

Taylor.

[Curiously.]

You didn’t get Robbie to burn this one I see.

Mrs. Granahan.

Well you see, Samuel James said it was a very valuable one and worth fifty poun’ or more may be. There’s an inscription on it somewhere if you look.

Taylor.

[Taking down fiddle and examining it.]

Aye so I see. “To Nicholas Werner as a token of esteem from his orchestra. Vienna, 1878.”

Ellen.

Yes poor soul. He was tellin’ the truth and no one believin’.

Taylor.

And does Robbie never play it?

Ellen.

Not since he promised that I know of. But all the same it must tempt him for I see his eyes fixed on it often enough when he thinks no one’s lookin’.

Taylor.

[He looks over at Mrs. Granahan who appears to be engrossed in her writing. He is just slipping his arm round Ellen when Mrs. Granahan looks up. He instantly drops his arm.]

Mrs. Granahan.

Ha’e you that stamp Mr. Taylor?

Taylor.

Its usual Mrs. Granahan for whoever signs the receipt to supply the stamp, however, there you are.

[Mrs. Granahan licks the stamp, and signs the receipt.]

The writin’ doesn’t come easy to you, ma’am.

Mrs. Granahan.

Now its not very courteous makin’ fun o’ poor old weemin’, Mr. Taylor. I thought better o’ you nor that.

Taylor.

Ould weemin’? Talk sense, Mrs. Granahan. I only wish my ould woman, if ever I have one, looks as well as you do.

Mrs. Granahan.

There, there, none o’ your fool nonsense. You don’t go blarneyin’ me, like you do the likes of Ellen there.

Ellen.

Ach mother!

Mrs. Granahan.

I’m much obledged to ye for the money Mr. Taylor. I must put it by me.

[Goes into room.]

Ellen.

I suppose you’ve heard about Robbie?

Taylor.

[Coming near her.]

No. What’s happened?

Ellen.

He’s to be married to Jane Graeme at Christmas and Mr. Graeme’s comin’ over here to-day to settle about the money.

Taylor.

[Slily.]

I wonder who your father will be settlin’ matters with Ellen, when you get engaged.

Ellen.

Why, of course whoever gets me, I suppose.

Taylor.

Well there’s one thing I wouldn’t haggle with him over.

Ellen.

And what would that be?

Taylor.

Yourself of course.

[He draws her to him and makes to kiss her. Robbie John and Samuel James pass by the window and Ellen immediately slips away from him. When they come in, she lifts a can and goes out by door to yard. Robbie John and Samuel James seat themselves at table.

Leaning against table and nodding to both.]

Well how’s the corn doin’?

Samuel James.

Oh, fairly well the year. How’s the crame market?

Taylor.

Much the same. Nothin’ new with you I suppose?

Samuel James.

Well they’re goin’ to settle Robbie the day, that’s all. He’s a lucky boy.

Taylor.

I wish you joy, Robbie.

Robbie John.

Thank ye. Thank ye kindly. She’s a nice wee girl.

Samuel James.

You don’t seem as gay hearted as I would expect, does he Mr. Taylor? You’d think he was for getting hung or somethin’. I suppose ye heerd all about him givin’ up the fiddle playin’? And the luck o’ it. To burn his ould fiddle, and then get another a few days after. You’d think there was some sort of a strange warnin’ or advice or somethin’ in it.

Taylor.

It is very strange.

Robbie John.

Samuel James do ye remember the time that ould tramp was playin’ on this fiddle, as he went out that day, down the loney?

[Samuel James nods.]

Well, it seemed to me as if he were playin’ to bring me out after him. D’ye mind the story, Mr. Taylor, about the piper that went off with all the children, and was niver heard tell of again.

Taylor.

Aye.

Robbie John.

Well I could feel him drawin’ me out after him the very same way. And last night, as sure as death, I heard the same uncanny air singin’ in my ears, and it seemed to be callin’ me to come out o’ this.

Taylor.

[Exchanges startled looks with Samuel James.]

Och I suppose the wind or somethin’ outside. But there’s no doubt Robbie you have a genius for the fiddle. There was a German professor of music at Newcastle the day you won the prize and he was But its not right of me to make you vexed, now you’ve stopped playin’.

Samuel James.

Ach he doesn’t mind you tellin’. Do ye Robbie? Tell and hearten him up a wee bit.

Taylor.

This German was so struck with your playin’ that he was lookin’ for you all roads, but you were nowhere to be found.

Robbie John.

[Interested.]

Aye? I went straight home. I wonner what he wanted?

Samuel James.

Perhaps he could have given him a lift, eh Mr. Taylor?

Taylor.

He was talkin’ to me afterwards and by the way, I had clean forgot.

[Fumbling in his pocket.]

He gave me his card to give you. I have it on me somewhere I think.

[Producing it.]

Aye, there it is.

[Reading.]

Professor somethin’ or other Royal College of Music.

Robbie John.

Keep it. If I had it, it would only temp’ me.

Taylor.

[Looking significantly at Samuel James who indicates by shaking his head that he considers Robbie John hopeless.]

You’re a queer character. All right. But you can have it any time.

[To Samuel James.]

I wish I had said nothin’ about it. Where’s the old man?

Samuel James.

The two ould men are out in the haggard, but

[Slily.]

Ellen’s in the crame-house.

[Taylor goes out through door at back. Samuel James looks over at Robbie John who sits deep in thought near the fire.]

You can no’ hoodwink me, Robbie. You’re no’ happy.

Robbie John.

I’m happy enough.

[Angrily.]

Don’t be tormentín’ me.

Samuel James.

Faith you look happy.

[Drawing closer.]

I seen you last night at it.

Robbie John.

[Looks round startled.]

I couldn’t keep from it. There’s a spell or somethin’ on it.

Samuel James.

Na. Na. But every fiddle has its spell for you. You broke your promise.

Robbie John.

You followed me then?

Samuel James.

Yes. Ye crept on your stocking soles to the back o’ the forth ditch, and played there for two mortal hours, till I was heart feared they’d miss us out o’ bed, and raise a cry.

Robbie John.

And you stood two hours in the night listenin’ to me.

Samuel James.

I ‘clare to God, there’s somethin’ out o’ common wi’ you or that fiddle, for I had to stop and listen, and me teeth chatterin’ wi’ could.

Robbie John.

I did wrong I know, but look here Samuel James, as long as I see that thing hangin’ there, my hands are itchin’ to hold it, and the tunes I could play they keep runnin’ in my head.

[Suddenly rising.]

I’ll destroy it.

Samuel James.

[Quieting him down.]

Na. Na. Its a vallible fiddle.

Robbie John.

It is. Ach man but it does temp’ me sorely.

Samuel James.

Aye. You might make a fortune, the dear knows. Man I know what I would do if I could play like you do.

[Sarcastically.]

That was if ye had the heart.

Robbie John.

[Excited.]

Ach quit! Quit talkin’ to me that way. I’m going out.

[Goes out by door at back.]

Samuel James.

[Getting off seat and standing about centre of room.]

He’ll take to it yet.

[He goes over nearer fireplace.]

I can see it workin’ in him. Sure his hands are tremblin’ and his fingers twitchin’ all the times he’s lookin’ at it.

[The grandfather enters softly by door at back. He stands looking at Samuel James who does not observe him.]

Maybe its no’ right of me to let it hang there. Ach. He maybe could make money plenty. I want till have a fine place and a lock o’ money. And I’ll build a bigger house.

Grandfather.

[Hobbling over to his seat.]

Aye. Aye. Ye could do a heap wi’ money, Samuel James.

Samuel James.

[Alarmed. He endeavours to bluff it with a show of geniality.]

Money’s the thing, Grand-da.

Grandfather.

Its a tarr’ble fine thing, there’s no doubt. Food and drink and fine clothes and fine houses ye can get.

Samuel James.

And tobaccy and seegars and the front seat at a consart.

Grandfather.

Here. Don’t be temptin’ Robbie John about playin’ on that fiddle. You’ve upset the boy.

Samuel James.

[Sharply.]

I don’t temp’ him.

Grandfather.

You’re always remindin’ him of it. I can see what you’re workin’ for Samuel James. Ye want all the money for yourself.

Samuel James.

Ha’ sense, Grand-da. Sure they’re settlin’ the matter to-day and he’s to be married at Christmas. He wouldn’t do anythin’ rash now.

Grandfather.

The clock has no’ struck the hour yet Samuel James. Ye could no’ tell what’s workin’ in his mind.

Samuel James.

Well, he’d be a fool, and what’s more, he knows himself to be one if he goes. He’ll lose all the money from Da if he goes, and I’m sure Jennie Graeme’s father wouldn’t turn his head to look at a fiddler.

Grandfather.

Aye. He’s tarr’ble proud o’ his family.

Mrs. Granahan.

[Opens door of room and comes in.]

Here. I seen Mr. Graeme and your Da comin’ up the loney from the windy in the low room.

Samuel James.

Well, they’ll be for comin’ in here and we’re only in the road. Come and twist a wheen o’ ropes for me.

[Samuel James and Grandfather go out by door at back.]

Mrs. Granahan.

[Takes brush and sweeps floor. She then arranges a kettle at the fire. Then goes to door and looks out.]

Aye. Here he bes now and that good man o’ mine talkin’ till him a dozen till one. And ten till one, he’ll have John Graeme that angered wi’ his arguin’, that there’ll be nothin’ settled the day.

[Sound of William John Granahan’s voice. He appears to be talking at a great rate and most emphatically.

John Graeme and William John Granahan pass the window.]

Aye, to be sure. He’d rather get the better o’ Graeme in an argyment as settle wi’ him over twenty sons, the ould gomeril.

[John Graeme and William John Granahan enter.]

How dy’e do, Mr. Graeme?

[She shakes hands with him warmly and warns the husband by nods not to resume the argument.]

It’s the brave weather for the crops this.

John Graeme.

Indeed we should be deeply thankful for the marcies vouchsafed us.

[Solemnly.]

Aye indeed.

William John Granahan.

Well indeed I would be that myself, only the half o’ them young chickens goin’ off with the gapes. It was a tarr’ble to do to save what’s left o’ them.

Mrs. Granahan.

Oh well. Its all in the way o’ Providence, Mr. Graeme.

[She looks disapprovingly across at Granahan. The two men seat themselves. John Graeme beside table and Wm. Granahan on edge of table next him.]

That was a fine lecture on the Temperance ye gied us Mr. Graeme, at Ballykelly. It done some people a heap o’ good.

[She looks across meaningly at William Granahan.]

John Graeme.

[Apparently much pleased.]

Do you say so, Mrs. Granahan? I’m much pleased indeed to hear o’ it.

Mrs. Granahan.

I only wished more o’ the same kind had heerd you.

[She looks across again at William John Granahan who avoids her eye.]

But you’ll excuse me, I’m sure. I ha’e some things next room to look after for the evenin’.

[She curtsies to Graeme and with a warning look at Granahan goes into room.]

John Graeme.

I am very much pleased indeed to hear your good woman say she liked what I said. How did ye take to it yourself, Mr. Granahan?

William John Granahan.

[Suddenly waking up from twisting and untwisting a piece of string which he has found and in which he appears deeply interested while his wife is talking.]

How did we like the speech you gave on temperance, d’ye say?

[Carelessly.]

Och, it was a very good and sensible discoorse, so I heerd Ellen and Mrs. Granahan say.

John Graeme.

Ye didn’t go yourself then.

[Disappointedly.]

Man, I wanted ye there particuler.

William John Granahan.

I ha’e no doot if I had been there, I could ha’ got up and contradickted ye, for

[Emphatically.]

I did not agree wi’ all I heerd ye said.

John Graeme.

[Surprised.]

Not agree wi’ what I said.

[Scornfully with evident disgust.]

Man, ye couldn’t argy wi’ facts. What did ye disagree wi’ in the discoorse?

William John Granahan.

Well for one thing, ye said there was too many public houses in the country.

John Graeme.

[Scornfully.]

And every right-minded man would agree wi’ that.

William John Granahan.

Well I can shew you another. You’ll no argy wi’ me that if a man wants to drink, he will drink.

John Graeme.

[Somewhat perplexed.]

Well

[Slowly.]

I suppose I do agree till that.

William John Granahan.

And if a man will drink, he’s boun’ till get drunk.

John Graeme.

Na. Na. I don’t agree till that.

William John Granahan.

[Triumphantly.]

Did you ivir hear tell of a man who was drunk wi’out drinkin’?

John Graeme.

That’s no’ in the argyment at all.

William John Granahan.

But I tell you it is. A man’s bound to be drinkin’ if he gets drunk.

John Graeme.

I’m no contradickin’ that at all. I

William John Granahan.

[Interrupting.]

Now houl’ your tongue till I explain till ye. If a man get’s drunk when he’s drinkin’, he’s bound to be drunk o’ coorse.

John Graeme.

[Contemptuously.]

Ye talk like a child.

William John Granahan.

Now wait till I get it hammered intill ye. Now when that man’s drunk, he’s boun’ to ha’e been drinkin’.

[He hesitates and is obviously confused. Then suddenly seems to grasp the idea he wants.]

Aye in a public house o’ coorse.

John Graeme.

O’ coorse. What else would he do there but drink.

William John Granahan.

Now that man gets drunk.

[He looks inquiringly at Graeme]

John Graeme.

[Hopelessly.]

Aye.

William John Granahan.

Now the public houses are that scarce that he has till walk home maybe ten mile or more.

John Graeme.

Well?

William John Granahan.

And ten till wan he gets lost or somethin’, and they have the whole countryside upset lookin’ for him. Now if he had a public house convanient in his own townland, there would be no bother at all, and he could be at his work the next mornin’ wi’out any interruptin’ o’ labour. D’ye see what I mane?

Mrs. Granahan.

[Suddenly appearing at door evidently angry.]

The more public houses the less drinkin’ did he say? If he had his way o’ it, every other house from here to Buckna would be a public house.

[To husband.]

Quit your wastin’ Mr. Graeme’s time wi’ your argyments, and settle what he has come here to do wi’ ye.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

Well. Well. We’ll agree till let the matter drop. You ha’e nobody but your daughter I suppose?

JOHN GRAEME.

Well I ha’e a sister married up in Dublin.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

But she’s in a good way o’ doin’ I suppose?

JOHN GRAEME.

Oh yes. Purty fair. O’ coorse I would like to lave her somethin’.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

Ach, gi’e her a lock o’ your hair or somethin’. You’ll lave the place to your daughter o’ coorse.

JOHN GRAEME.

Yes. I’ll be doin’ that.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

Aye. It’s a purty fair farm o’ land. Ye bought it out o’ coorse?

JOHN GRAEME.

Two year come March, and a good reduction.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

Aye. So I heerd. Well if ye gi’e her the farm and what money ye ha’e, I’ll gi’e Robbie a cheque for a hunnert poun’.

JOHN GRAEME.

[Impressively.]

William John Granahan d’ye think this is a horse fair? My daughter will ha’e no man unner five hunnert poun’.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

[Uneasily and walking about.]

Man, you’ll nivir get her married John Graeme, at that way o’ talkin’. Five hunnert poun’. D’ye think I’m a Rockyfellow? Ha’e some sense about ye.

JOHN GRAEME.

Aither that or no son o’ yours weds my daughter. Five hunnert poun’ and not one ha’penny less. There’s the family name to be thought o’.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

Ach! family name! a lock o’ ould wives’ blathers about who was married till who, till you’d have your head sore takin’ it all in.

JOHN GRAEME.

You’ve heerd what I ha’e to say. Take it or lave it. You can plaze yourself.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

Five hunnert poun’. It’s a tarr’ble price. Would two hunnert no’ do? You see I ha’e Samuel James and Ellen to provide for.

JOHN GRAEME.

A Graeme o’ Killainey weds no man unner five hunnert poun’, William Granahan. Mind that. I want my daughter married to no beggarman.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

[Excitedly.]

Beggarman! Beggarman, did ye say? Hats, John Graeme, I think ye should be proud o’ wan o’ yours marryin’ a Granahan. Money or no money, that’s a nice way o’ talkin’.

JOHN GRAEME.

I suppose ye know I come o’ good family, Mr. Granahan?

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

[Sarcastically.]

I heard ye were wance cotter folk up by Dromara mountain.

JOHN GRAEME.

[Proudly.]

My father and my forefathers had my farm aye, from the time o’ the plantin’.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

D’ye tell me? I nivir seen your laase o’ the farm but of coorse if ye say so. Did ye nivir hear tell of Smith, Hunter, and Fargison?

JOHN GRAEME.

[Contemptuously.]

John Smith of Ballykelly?

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

[Disgusted.]

Yon cratur? Ballykelly?

[Proudly.]

Lonnon! Well my mother was a daughter o’ Samuel James Smith, and a niece o’ Robert John Francis Fargison.

JOHN GRAEME.

[Contemptuously.]

I nivir heerd tell o’ them.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

I wonner at your ignorance John Grame. A well educated man like yourself as sets yourself up to be taching the congregation on matters o’ law and the temperance question, (raising voice) and you that ignorant o’ common information.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

[Opening door and coming in a few steps.]

William John Granahan, didn’t I tell ye not to be raisin’ argyments. How you manage at the markets I nivir could understand. Get your business done, and ha’ settled wi’ it.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

[Soothingly.]

Whist, whist woman, I was only discoorsin’. Mind the tay and I’ll mind the rest. There. There. I agree to your tarms, John Graeme. I’ll do it, though it’s lavin’ me tarr’ble short.

JOHN GRAEME.

[Impressively.]

But there’s one thing I’ll no ha’e, William Granahan.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

[Alarmed.]

And what might that be?

JOHN GRAEME.

If your son is to marry my daughter, I’ll ha’e none o’ his music. Its all very well for quality and the like to go strummin’ on instruments, but its no’ meant for a sensible farmer.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

Aye. I agree wi’ that. But look here. Mind ye a song or two and a bit o’ a tune on a long winter’s night keeps one from thinkin’ long and between you and me, it keeps you from the bottle.

JOHN GRAEME.

That’s where you and I differs. Supposin’ he starts playin’ a dance tune or two, and the neighbours gather in. You like to do the thing dacint, and ye send out for drink, and then it goes from bad to worse. Na. Na. I’ll ha’e none o’ that.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

Well. Well. Make your mind aisy. Ye know he has promised me nivir to play again, and I don’t think you’ll hear much o’ his fiddlin’.

JOHN GRAEME.

I’m right glad to hear it, and I’ll tak’ your word for it.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

Very good.

[With admiration.]

Man, you’d ha’ made a great horsedailer John Graeme.

JOHN GRAEME.

Aye. I had an uncle in the town, a dailer, and he was always sayin’ that.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

And well you could ha’ done it, if I knowed anythin’. I’ll go to Banbridge a Friday wi’ you to settle wi’ the lawyers.

JOHN GRAEME.

Very good. I’ll call for you wi’ the trap that day. Its time I was for goin’ home.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

We were expectin’ ye ower the day, and I think Mrs. Granahan has the tay laid in the low room.

[Calls.]

Mrs. Granahan!

MRS. GRANAHAN.

[From room.]

Yes.

[She comes in and stands waiting near door.]

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

We’re just after settlin’ up about Robbie John and Jennie. Can ye get us a drop o’ tay?

MRS. GRANAHAN.

If you could just take Mr. Graeme for a turn round, I could ha’e it for you in wan second. The table’s laid and the kettle’s boilin’. Is your daughter wi’ you Mr. Graeme?

JOHN GRAEME.

Aye. She was comin’ over after me. I suppose she should be here by now.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

Well I can show you the new reaper and binder I got. That new Wexford machine, I was tellin’ you about a Sunday in the Session.

JOHN GRAEME.

Very good. I’ll just go out and see it.

[William John Granahan and John Graeme go out by door at back.]

MRS. GRANAHAN.

[Going over to fire and arranging kettle.]

Five hunnert poun, and after me tellin’ him to keep till four hunnert. Wait till I get ahoult o’ him again. I’ll speak till him. Did he no’ hear me thumpin’ four times on the door till remind him. He must ha’e a soft spot in his heart for Robbie John.

[Tap at door.]

Come in.

[Jane Graeme enters somewhat diffidently.]

Oh its you Miss Graeme.

[Shakes hands.]

Youre welcome indeed. Your father’s just gone out wi’ my good man.

JANE.

Yes. I know but I thought perhaps well that Robbie was in here.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

[Inspecting her critically.]

Deed now, I couldn’t tell you where he might be.

JANE.

I’ll just sit down a minute. I suppose you are all doing well here Mrs. Granahan?

MRS. GRANAHAN.

Ach aye. As well as one could expeck. There’s nothin’ to make much complaint o’.

JANE.

I haven’t seen Robbie about for some time Mrs. Granahan. I suppose he’s working hard at the harvest.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

Aye ‘deed there’s a brave press o’ work on now, what wi’ the corn a cuttin’, and the rest o’ it, he’s been gey busy o’ late.

JANE.

Indeed I am sure he was.

[She looks round, sees the fiddle hanging up where Taylor has left it.]

[Aside.]

Is that the fiddle he was telling me about, I wonder?

[To Mrs. Granahan.]

Is that the tramp’s fiddle, Mrs. Granahan?

MRS. GRANAHAN.

Aye, that’s the poor cratur’s belongin’. But you needn’t be afeared. Robbie’s indeed been very good. He’s nivir played on it to my knowin’, and keeps his promise well.

JANE.

Poor Robbie. Do you not think he’s unhappy about something or other Mrs. Granahan. He’s got very dull and moody this last while.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

Deed now I don’t see much odds in him Miss Graeme. He nivir was a great boy with his tongue anyway;

[Slily.]

bar maybe an odd wan or two he would mak’ up to.

JANE.

I think you do wrong to keep that fiddle hanging up before his eyes, when he has promised never to play again.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

Och blatherations. I nivir heerd the like o’ the sort o’ talk people goes on wi’ nowadays. Do ye think my son bes only an ould ba cryin’ for a toy? Deed now I don’t think he worries his-self much about it.

JANE.

[Aside.]

Poor Robbie.

[To Mrs. Granahan.]

Robbie’s a poor hand at the farming, Mrs. Granahan.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

[Snappishly.]

Och aye. But he’s greatly mended since he giv up playin’.

JANE.

Yes. He’s a very poor farmer. But he was a wonder with his fiddle.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

Oh well. It canna’ be helped. He’s better wi’out.

JANE.

I don’t know.

[She goes over and takes down the fiddle seats herself and draws the bow across it as it lies on her lap.]

Robbie could have made it speak to you. He used to make me cry, and then laugh after it.

[She places the strings near her ear and thumbs it wrapt in thought.]

MRS. GRANAHAN.

[Looking contemptuously at her and then rising.]

You just stay here a second till I fix the tay.

[She goes into room. Jane remains seated where she is, occasionally touching the strings and seemingly deep in thought. Robbie John passes window. He looks in and then goes quickly to door and enters.]

ROBBIE JOHN.

Who’s that fiddlin’?

[Goes over to Jane.]

Why it’s you. I heard you were come.

JANE.

Yes. I’m just in a minute or two.

[He sits down beside her.]

Robbie.

ROBBIE JOHN.

Well?

JANE.

Answer me one question. Aren’t you a very poor farmer?

ROBBIE JOHN.

Well I I suppose I am.

JANE.

I knew you were. You’re no good for selling cattle or going to market, or looking after crops.

ROBBIE JOHN.

You’re very hard Jane to-night. What’s put all that into your wee head?

JANE.

I’ve been listening to this and its been tellin’ stories on you.

ROBBIE JOHN.

Aye and when its hangin’ there dumb its speakin’ to me, callin’ to me. Don’t think I’m mad Jane but I can’t stand it much longer. What makes them hang it there to temp’ me? Why? Just because they think they can make a few miserable pounds, they’ll keep it there makin’ me a liar, a pledge breaker, a man who can’t keep his promise. I’ll end it now. I’ll smash it.

[He makes to take the fiddle out of her hands.]

JANE.

[Resisting.]

No. No. I want to say I want to ask something Robbie. What does it say to you?

ROBBIE JOHN.

What does it Ach I wonder would you laugh at me like the rest if I told you.

JANE.

[Sitting closer and putting her arm about his neck.]

What does it say. Tell me. I would never laugh at you Robbie dear.

ROBBIE JOHN.

[Hesitatingly.]

Ach about about takin’ it and makin’ a name for myself with it.

[Bitterly.]

It sounds like fool talk doesn’t it.

JANE.

To my father and yours it would sound like that and Samuel James would laugh at you, but he’d encourage you to believe in it.

ROBBIE JOHN.

Let me break it then. Smash it.

JANE.

[Determinedly.]

No. Look Robbie if I said it was whispering you the truth, what would you say?

ROBBIE JOHN.

[Surprised.]

I would say that it was true. But you never would.

JANE.

[Determinedly.]

I say it is the truth.

ROBBIE JOHN.

You what? Ach you don’t know what you say child. If I did take to it again, look what would happen. My father would turn me out, and your father would forbid me then ever lookin’ at you again. Jane Graeme engaged to a penniless fiddler, and she the best match in the whole countryside. I need never think of you again Jane.

JANE.

I don’t care what they bid. If you took to that fiddle and went away, would you forget me soon?

ROBBIE JOHN.

Forget you, Jane? What makes you think that? Sure you know I gave it up sooner than lose you.

JANE.

Then take that fiddle and do what your heart tells you to. I wondered often and often what it was that made you so sad, and I know now. God made you a musician and not a farmer.

ROBBIE JOHN.

And you? What would you do?

JANE.

I know and trust some day God willing, you’ll come back to me, rich and famous enough to have them all at your feet. I know you will.

ROBBIE JOHN.

God bless you wee girl for you’re put a heart into me.

[They embrace. Mrs. Granahan comes in.]

MRS. GRANAHAN.

There. There. Bide a wee. Here they’re all coming in for their tays.

[William John Granahan, Graeme, Taylor, Samuel James and Grandfather come in. Robbie John goes over to fiddle and puts it into a case.]

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

[Puzzled.]

So you’re at it again, are you? Well I suppose there’s no harm in giving Miss Graeme a tune, but I thought you were a man to your word.

ROBBIE JOHN.

[Determinedly.]

Look here. I want you all to know I am goin’ to try my luck with this.

SAMUEL JAMES.

[Exultingly.]

You’re goin’ to lave us like to mak’ money wi’ it.

ROBBIE JOHN.

I’m goin’ to try.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

Robbie John are you daft. What wild nonsense are ye talkin’ about. And you to be married at Christmas and everythin’ settled about you this very day.

ROBBIE JOHN.

I am determined to do it. Nothin’ can keep me back.

JOHN GRAEME.

There. That’s enough. My daughter jilted by a Granahan! Come home out o’ this Jane Graeme.

[He stamps his foot angrily and beckons her to come. Jane moves past Robbie John where he is standing and then suddenly kisses him and goes out with her father.]

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

[Passionately.]

You see what you ha’e done Robert John Granahan. Broken your parents’ hearts, and made the name of the Granahans a disgrace to the countryside.

[Wildly.]

Quick d n ye before it’s too late.

ROBBIE JOHN.

My mind’s made up. Give me the address of that Professor you told me of, Mr. Taylor.

TAYLOR.

You’re a fool, Robbie.

[Producing card and handing it to him.]

There. That’s it.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

There’s time yet, man. After John Graeme, and make it up wi’ him. Swear you were only makin’ fun.

ROBBIE JOHN.

I stick by the fiddle.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

[Mad with anger.]

Then stick by the fiddle. And know if ever you are weary or ahungered or in want, ye need nivir look me for any help.

[Shouts.]

Out you go. Out. Don’t dar one of you as much as till take his hand. Out. Out the same as the beggar man gone, wi’ the curse of your father on you.

[Robbie John goes toward back and stands a moment as if in silent appeal at the open door. Mrs. Granahan rushes forward to her husband as if to entreat mercy. He angrily puts her away.]

Out. Out you go.

CURTAIN.