Emphatically.
Min' that.
Mrs. Granahan.
I'll min' it right enough William Granahan. And its a sore time I have trying to keep in wi' one hand what you lavish out wi' the other.
Samuel James.
Nudging Ellen slily.
I was talking by the way to Mrs. McCrum the milliner, mother, to-day, and she said to give you word she'd have your new tay gown ready for you a Tuesday week.
William John Granahan.
Triumphantly.
There you are ma'am. There you are. Keepin' it in wi' one hand were you? Faith if I know anything you lather it out wi both hands and feet. You want to rob me of me one poun' do ye? And all for an ould tay gown!
Contemptuously.
A tay gown!
Ellen.
Maliciously.
A taygown's not expensive.
William John Granahan.
Oh indeed now? Hach. You'll be wantin' one next I suppose. A nice house this is, where a man couldn't get keepin' as much as would buy him an ounce o' tobaccy.
Viciously.
Man I do hate this hypockerisy.
Mrs. Granahan.
I'll not talk any more till ye, William Granahan. You're full o' drink and bad tongued.
William John Granahan.
If you say any more till me, I'll smash all the crockery in the house.
Mrs. Granahan.
Come out Ellen to the creamery and maybe when we come in, he'll be a bit cooler in the head.
She hurries out followed by Ellen through door to yard.
She hurries out followed by Ellen through door to yard.
William John Granahan.
To Samuel James.
She's a tarr'ble woman your mother when she's started. But I'm much obliged to you Samuel James for the mention o' that tay gown. By me sang, but that turned the enemy's flank.
Laughs.
I'm danged but you're the boy.
Gratefully.
Heth you saved me a poun' anyway.
Samuel James.
Rising and going over sheepishly to him.
You'll not forget me Da? will you?
William John Granahan.
Suspiciously.
Na.
Samuel James.
Well ye might gie us a part o' it.
William John Granahan.
How much dy'e want?
Samuel James.
Twelve shillin'.
William John Granahan.
Would you take the very boots off me feet. Where would I get ye twelve shillin'.
Samuel James.
Out o' the poun' o' coorse. Where else?
William John Granahan.
Grumblingly.
You're askin' ower much. If it was a saxpence
Samuel James shrugs his shoulders.
or a shillin'
Samuel James shrugs more emphatically.
or two shillin'?
Samuel James.
No.
William John Granahan.
or half a crown?
Samuel James.
No.
William John Granahan.
I'd think nothing of lendin' them till ye. But twelve shillin'! Would three shillin' no' do?
Samuel James.
No. It won't. Either give me the twelve shillin' or I'll tell her about your conduck—
William John Granahan.
There. There it is an bad scran to ye. To think o' me walkin' ten mile to the fair and back and arguin' wi' dailers and chates of all kinds and gettin thirty poun' for a baste I wouldn't buy myself for thirty shillin' and only gettin' eight shillin' out o' it.
Samuel James.
Whistling and counting money delightedly.
Aye. Its a hard world and no mistake.
William John Granahan.
Excitedly.
I'll go down to the shough and drown myself I will.
Samuel James.
Na. Go to MucAlanan's and drown yerself.
William John Granahan.
I'm danged but you're right. Na. Na. She'll hear me goin' out by the gate.
Samuel James.
Boys but you're the poor hearted man. Well I'm away.
He makes to door.
William John Granahan.
Where now?
Samuel James.
To Courdy Williamson's for the loan of a monkey wrinch for the new machine. The hay's for cuttin' the morrow.
William John Granahan.
Oh aye. An you'll be for coortin' that young imp of a daughter o' his I warrant ye. Were you there yisterday forenoon?
Samuel James.
Somewhat taken aback.
Yis. Why d'ye ask?
William John Granahan.
Oh nothin'. Only I hadn't a sowl to help me wi' them cattle.
Samuel James.
Well wasn't Robbie John at home? What ailed him he couldn't help ye?
William John Granahan.
Look you here Samuel James.
Samuel James comes back nearer.
I've been worried wi' that boy this long time.
Samuel James nods approvingly.
I've made up my mind to-day after seein' yon scarecrow we met at Buckna cross roads, Robbie John aither mends himself or he goes out o' this.
Samuel James.
You're right Da. You hae stud his goings on a long time. I think ye do well to stop him. It's only doin' him a kindness.
William John Granahan.
I'll just ask him to burn it when he comes in. If he won't, he can just plaze himself. I'll hae no more to do wi' him.
Suddenly.
I wunner what his mother would say to that?
Samuel James.
She' just as tired of it as you are. Wait; I'll call her in.
Goes to door back and shouts.
Are you there ma'am?
Mrs. Granahan.
Without.
Aye.
She comes to door, opens it and stands looking inquiringly at both of them.
She comes to door, opens it and stands looking inquiringly at both of them.
Well?
Samuel James.
Da's just been talkin' about Robbie John, and he wants you to hear what he says.
William John Granahan.
Robbie John's an idle useless paghle. He'll aither mend himself or go out o' this.
Mrs. Granahan.
Sharply.
Mend yourself first, me good man.
William John Granahan.
Its not like as if he tuk a drop o' drink or fell in wi' bad company, for you'll get quet o' drink and bad company if you hae no money.
Samuel James.
Slily.
It was mother and I larnt you that.
William John Granahan.
Snappishly.
Will you hould your tongue.
To Mrs. Granahan.
When he might ha' been lookin after the cattle or the pigs or somethin else, where is he? Up in the loft playin that damnation fiddle o' his. Night an mornin' he's at it.
Mrs. Granahan.
Deed and he's doin badly by it and no mistake. He's not been worth a ha' penny till us, this last six months. I think you do right just to stop him.
Samuel James.
I heerd he won three poun' at the Feis last Monday at Newcastle.
William John Granahan.
There you are. And he never offered me one ha'penny o' it. Me that brought him up and raired and fed him. Them that plays the fiddle comes to no good end, I can tell ye.
Reminiscently and with a sort of shame-faced pride.
Reminiscently and with a sort of shame-faced pride.
Not but I wasn't the great man at it myself wanst. And you were the girl that could ha' danced to it Mary. But thank God I quet it.
Samuel James.
Curiously.
Why?
William John Granahan.
I might ha took to drink and bad company and the like.
Mrs. Granahan.
You're no rid o' that yet William Granahan. Ye mind what way ye come home last Bann Fair on top o' the bread cart.
Samuel James.
Slily.
Yis. And the way the Scarva man done him out o' the price o' the two pigs.
Mrs. Granahan.
That's one thing I can't get over. Was it in a public house ye met him?
William John Granahan.
There. There. Thats enough to do about it. I hear enough about drinkin' from John Graeme every session day without you etarnally at it.
Robbie John and Grandfather enter. They evidently understand from the looks of those present that something important is talked of.
Robbie John and Grandfather enter. They evidently understand from the looks of those present that something important is talked of.
Where's that fiddle of yours Robbie John? Bring it to me.
Robbie John looks curiously at him and then at Samuel James. He goes into room and brings it out. He holds it in his hands and looks suspiciously at the father.
Robbie John looks curiously at him and then at Samuel James. He goes into room and brings it out. He holds it in his hands and looks suspiciously at the father.
Now Robbie John listen to what I and your mother have thought about this. For our sake and your own we want you to give up that accursed thing and put it from you.
Robbie John.
Why? What harm does it do you or me?
William John Granahan.
It makes you negleck your work. It makes you think o' things you shouldn't think o'. It makes you loss slape o' nights sitting up an playin' and then you can't rise in the mornin'. When you should be polissin the harness, or mendin' a ditch, or watchin' the cattle, or feedin' the poultry, you've got this thing in your hand and practisin' on it.
Robbie John.
Indignantly.
Its not true. I don't do these things. I—
William John Granahan.
Now will you atten' to your duties and give up this playin'. What good will it ever do ye? Ye seen what it brought yon man till that was in here. It's a tarrible warnin' till ye.
Robbie John.
The fiddle didn't make him what he is. The drink did that.
William John Granahan.
Scornfully.
Aye. The leader of an ould circus band or somethin' like.
Getting excited.
I'd just do wi that as I'd do with a sarpint. Trample it under my heels.
Robbie John.
Threateningly.
Dare to put a hand on it. I'll kill the first man tries to.
William John Granahan.
Angrily.
You dar' talk that way to your father!
Soothingly.
Mrs. Granahan.
Now Robbie dear. Don't be gettin' on that way.
Grandfather.
Robbie my son mind what I was tellin' ye. Its better to bear it if you can my son. Its a hard thing but you can take my word for it, you'll no regret it.
William John Granahan.
Sadly.
I had o' coorse a will drawn up and signed by 'torney McAllan and was for lavin' ye nice an' comfortable when I was to be takin' away.
He breaks down.
Robbie, Robbie, my son, sure its not my heart you're for breakin'.
Samuel James.
Coorse I heerd from one o' the judges, Robbie, at the Feis that you had the touch o' a master, and all that sort o' thing; but I advise ye—
Here the grandfather shakes his stick at him threateningly.
Here the grandfather shakes his stick at him threateningly.
I advise ye—of coorse its hard to know.
Grandfather.
Looking angrily at Samuel James.
Don't think o' that Robbie. Sure every man that plays a fiddle, thinks he's a genius. Don't be led astray son.
William John Granahan.
Coaxingly.
Aye. Your grand-da has sense wi' him Robbie. After all what about it. Man there's that bonny wee lass waitin' for you over at Graemes. To the fire wi' it.
Robbie John hesitates. The grandfather pats him approvingly. With bowed head he goes forward to place it on the fire.
Robbie John hesitates. The grandfather pats him approvingly. With bowed head he goes forward to place it on the fire.
Curtain.
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.
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.
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.
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'sniver done bein' thankful since he married. He says he doesn't know what he mightn't ha' been, if he hadn't marriedme.
Taylor.
Slily.
I can quite believethat.
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.
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 itwasnine 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.
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.
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.
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.
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—Butits 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.
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?