_ What is it ails you? You are uneasy about something.
What is it you are hiding from me?

_Hazel:_ What would I have to hide but that the papers got mixed
in some way, and you have in your hand what I wrote about yourself,
and not what you wrote about myself?

_Mineog:_ What way did they get into the wrong pocket now?

_Hazel: (Putting MS. in his pocket.)_ Give me back my own and I
will give you back your own.

_Mineog:_ I don't know. You are putting it in my mind there might
be something underhand. I would like to make sure what did you say
about me in the heel. _(Turns over.)_ "He was honest and widely
respected." _Was_ honest--are you saying me to be a rogue at this
time?

_Hazel:_ That's not fair dealing to be searching through it
against my will.

_Mineog:_ "He was trusted through the whole townland." _Was_
trusted--is it that you are making me out to be a thief?

_Hazel:_ Well, follow your own road and take your own way.

_Mineog:_ "----Mr. Mineog leaves no family to lament his loss, but
along with the _Tribune_, which he fostered with the care of a father,
we offer up prayers for the repose of his soul." _(Stands up.)_ It
is a notice of my death you are after writing!

_Hazel:_ You should understand that.

_Mineog:_ An obituary notice! Of myself! Is it that you expect me
to quit the living world between this and Thursday?

_Hazel:_ I had no thought of the kind.

_Mineog:_ I'm not stretched yet! What call have you to go offer
prayers for me?

_Hazel:_ I tell you I had it put by this long time till I would
have occasion to use it.

_Mineog:_ Is it this long time, so, you have been waiting for my
death?

_Hazel:_ Not at all.

_Mineog:_ You to kill me to-day and to think to bury me to-morrow!

_Hazel:_ Can't you listen? I was wanting something to fill space.

_Mineog:_ Would nothing serve you to fill space but only my own
corpse? To go set my coffin making and to put nettles growing on my
hearth! Wouldn't it be enough to rob my house or to make an attack
upon my means? Wouldn't that fill up the gap?

_Hazel:_ Let you not twist it that way!

_Mineog:_ The time I was in the face of my little dinner to go
startle me with a thing of the sort! I'm not worth the ground I
stand on! For the _Champion_ of next Thursday! I to be dead ere
Thursday!

_Hazel:_ I looked for no such thing.

_Mineog:_ What is it makes you say me to be done and dying? Am I
reduced in the face?

_Hazel:_ You are not.