the best of company, and heartsome. You
were, Daniel.

DANIEL. Well, I did my best, John, to keep--(_he half breaks
down_)--to keep up a good heart.

JOHN. You did. I wouldn't like to lose you, Daniel. (_He looks at the
telegram in his hand._) But Daniel. This telegram. It comes from
Ballyannis.

DANIEL (_taken aback, but recovering his self possession._)
Ballyannis? Ballyannis? Ah, of course. Sure Gregg, that London man, he
was to go through Ballyannis to-day. He's on a visit, you know,
somewhere this way. It's him I'm going to look for now.

JOHN. Was that the way of it? (_With rising anger at the thought of
the way in which his brother has been treated._) And she was for
making you out an impostor and for putting you out. I didn't like
them talking of a Murray the way they done.

DANIEL (_with sudden hope_). Are you engaged to that McMinn woman,
John?

JOHN. Aye. I spoke the word the day.

DANIEL. Was there anybody there when you asked her?

JOHN. There was no one.

DANIEL. Did you write her letters?

JOHN. No. Not a line.

DANIEL. And did you visit and court much at the home?

JOHN. No. I always seen Andy on business and stopped to have a word or
two with her.

DANIEL (_appealingly_). Then, John, John, it's not too late yet.
(_Desperately._) Give me--ah, give wee Mary another chance.

SARAH (_at door_). Come in, John, at once. Your tea's cold waiting,
and it's no way to entertain company that.

JOHN (_angrily_). D----n her. Daniel! Out of this home you will not
go. I'd rather have your crack of a winter night as two hundred pounds
in the bank and yon woman. (_He reaches out his hand._) I'll break the
match. (_The two men shake hands._)

(CURTAIN.)

ACT III

_The same scene two weeks later._ BROWN _comes in by yard door holding
letters in his hand, which he examines curiously at intervals._

BROWN (_shouting loudly_). Miss Mary! Are you there, Miss Mary?

KATE (_coming in from parlour_). Hi there. Stop that shouting. D'ye
want to wake the dead?

BROWN. I want to give these letters to Miss Mary. Where is she?

KATE. Who're they for? Let's look at them.

BROWN. Not for you anyway. (_Loudly._) Miss Mary.

KATE. Ach quit deaving me with your shouting.

MARY (_coming in_). What's the matter? Oh! Letters! Any for me, Sam?

BROWN. Aye. There's a post card for you, Miss Mary, and a registered
letter for Mr. John. The posty says he'll call on the road back for
the account when yo