time!

_Staffy:_ What are you talking about, Delia? It is Patrick you
were meaning to say.

_Damer:_ Let her go on prattling out Damer to my face, as it is
often she called it behind my shoulders. Damer the chandler, the
miser got the spoil of the Danes, that was mocked at since the time
of the Danes. I know well herself and the world have me christened
with that nickname.

_Ralph:_ Ah, it is not to dispraise you they put it on you, but to
show you out so wealthy and so rich.

_Damer:_ I am thinking it is not love of my four bones brings you
on this day under my thatch?

_Staffy:_ We heard tell you were after being destroyed with a
jennet.

_Damer:_ Picking up newses and tidings of me ye do be. It is short
the delay was on you coming.

_Delia:_ And I after travelling through the most of the day on the
head of you being wounded and hurt, thinking you to be grieving to
see one of your own! And I in dread of my life stealing past your
wicked dog.

_Damer:_ My joy he is, scaring you with his bark! If it wasn't for
him you would have me clogged and tormented, coming in and bothering
me every whole minute.

_Delia:_ There is no person in Ireland only yourself but would
have as much welcome for me to-day as on the first day ever they saw
me!

_Damer:_ What's that you are doing with my broom?

_Delia:_ To do away with the spider's webs I did, where the
shelves were looped with them and smothered. Look at all that came
off of that pack of cards.

_Damer:_ What call had you to do away with them, and they
belonging to myself? Is it to bleed to death I should and I to get a
tip of a billhook or a slasher? You and your vagaries to have left
me bare, that I would be without means to quench the blood, and it
to rise up from my veins and to scatter on every side!

_Delia:_ Is it that you are without e'er a rag, and that ancient
coat to be hanging on the wall?

_Damer:_ The place swept to flitters! What is that man of yours
doing and he handling my turf?

_Ralph:_ It was herself thought to be serviceable to you, setting
out the fuel that was full of dampness where it would get an air of
the fire.

_Damer:_ To dry it is it? _(Seizes sods and takes them from the
hearth.)_ And what length would it be without being burned and
consumed and it not to be wet putting it on? _(Pours water over it.)_
And I after stacking it purposely in the corner where there does be
a drip from the thatch.

_Ralph:_ She but thought it