ye see
anything of Matsy and the goat.

CLARISSA. Yes, mum. (_Goes to door at L._)

MRS. MULLIGAN. Mary Ann Mulligan, quit fooling with yer sash. If I've
told yer once I've told yer a hundred times it's liable to bust and
yer skirt and yer waist ain't on speakin' terms.

CLARISSA (_at door_). Maw, here comes Mrs. O'Toole.

MRS. MULLIGAN. It's the goat. He's been filling himself up on the
O'Toole cabbages. My, my, that goat'll be the death of me yet.

_Enter_ MRS. O'TOOLE, _limping in from L._

MRS. O'TOOLE. Good evening, Mrs. Mulligan.

MRS. MULLIGAN. The same to ye, Mrs. O'Toole. Come in and set down.

MRS. O'TOOLE. I have no time to set down, and I have no inclination to
set down. And it's all on account of yer goat, Shamus O'Brien.

MRS. MULLIGAN. Me goat, is it?

MRS. O'TOOLE. It is the same, and it's an injured woman I am this
night.

MRS. MULLIGAN. My, my! I'll have to kill that old goat. He's entirely
too obstreperous. And did he chase you, Mrs. O'Toole?

MRS. O'TOOLE. Chase me? He did worse than chase me. He caught up with
me.

MRS. MULLIGAN. And where is he now?

MRS. O'TOOLE. Niver a know do I know where he is. I left your boy
Matsy chasing him down the alley with a rope.

MRS. MULLIGAN. Bridget, go in the far room and get a wee drop of tay
for Mrs. O'Toole.

MRS. O'TOOLE. I can't drink any tay. I'm that injured I can't drink at
all, at all.

MRS. MULLIGAN. A drop of tay will warm ye up. Hurry, Bridget.

BRIDGET. Yis, mum. (_Exits R._)

MRS. O'TOOLE. I was out in me cabbage garden picking a bit of cabbage
for me owld man's Christmas dinner. I was bending over looking at the
cabbage whin all of a sudden I felt meself flying through the air and
I landed in the watering trough, so I did. And it was full of water.
And I'm almost killed entirely--and it's all the fault of your goat,
Mrs. Mulligan.

MRS. MULLIGAN. There, now, Kathleen, darlin', sit down and take things
easy.

MRS. O'TOOLE. I'll not sit down, Mollie Mulligan. Sure I'm thinking
I'll be after spindin' the rist of me life standing up on me two fate.

MRS. MULLIGAN. So the goat struck ye, did he?

MRS. O'TOOLE. He did.

MRS. MULLIGAN. My, my, the trouble I've had all along of that Shamus
O'Brien. He's an awful goat, is Shamus O'Brien.

_Enter_ BRIDGET _with two cups of tea._

BRIDGET. Here's the tea, mum.

MRS. MULLIGAN. Thank ye kindly, Bridget. Here, Kathleen, take a cup of
tay and let it soothe your wounded feelin