Tales and Novels Volume VIII Part 37

[_Exit CHRISTY with the poker._

_Miss G._ There, Biddy, that will do--any how.--Just shut down the lid, can't ye? and find me my other shoe. Biddy--then, lave that,--come out o' that, do girl, and see the bed!--run there, turn it up just any way;--and Biddy, run here,--stick me this tortise comb in the back of my head--oh! (_screams and starts away from BIDDY._) You ran it fairly into my brain, you did! you're the grossest! heavy handiest!--fit only to wait on Sheelah na Ghirah, or the like.--(_Turns away from BIDDY with an air of utter contempt._) But I'll go and resave the major properly.--(_Turns back as she is going, and says to BIDDY_) Biddy, settle all here, can't ye?--Turn up the bed, and sweep the gla.s.s and dust in the dust corner, for it's here I'm bringing him to dinner,--so settle up all in a minute, do you mind me, Biddy! for your life!

[_Exit Miss GALLAGHER._

_BIDDY, alone_--(_speaking while she puts the things in the room in order._)

_Settle up all in a minute!_--asy said!--and _for my life_ too!--Why, then, there's not a greater slave than myself in all Connaught, or the three kingdoms--from the time I get up in the morning, and that's afore the flight of night, till I get to my bed again at night, and that's never afore one in the morning! But I wouldn't value all one pin's pint, if it was kind and civil she was to me. But after I strive, and strive to the utmost, and beyand--(_sighs deeply_) and when I found the innions, and took the apple-pie off her hands, and settled her behind, and all to the best of my poor ability for her, after, to go and call me Sheelah na Ghirah! though I don't rightly know who that Sheelah na Ghirah was from Adam--but still it's the bad language I get, goes to my heart. Oh, if it had but plased Heaven to have cast me my lot in the sarvice of a raal jantleman or lady instead of the likes of these! Now, I'd rather be a dog in his honour's or her honour's house than lie under the tongue, of Miss Gallagher, as I do--to say nothing of ould Christy.

_Miss GALLAGHER'S voice heard, calling,_

Biddy! Biddy Doyle! Biddy, can't ye?

_Biddy._ Here, miss, in the room, readying it, I am.

_CHRISTY GALLAGHER'S voice heard calling,_

Biddy!--Biddy Doyle!--Biddy, girl! What's come o' that girl, that always out o' the way idling, when wanted?--Plague take her!

_Biddy._ Saints above! hear him now!--But I scorn to answer.

_Screaming louder in mingled voices, CHRISTY'S and Miss GALLAGHER'S,_

Biddy! Biddy Doyle!--Biddy, girl!

_Christy._ (_putting in his head_) Biddy! sorrow take ye! are ye in it?--And you are, and we cracking our vitals calling you. What is it you're dallying here for? Stir! stir! dinner!

[_He draws back his head, and exit._

_BIDDY, alone._

Coming then!--Sure it's making up the room I am with all speed, and the bed not made after all!--(_Throws up the press-bed._)--But to live in this here house, girl or boy, one had need have the lives of nine cats and the legs of forty.

[_Exit._

SCENE III.

_The Kitchen of the Inn._

_Miss FLORINDA GALLAGHER and CHRISTY GALLAGHER._

_Boys and Men belonging to the Band, in the back Scene._

_Christy._ (_to the band_) The girl's coming as fast as possible to get yees your dinners, jantlemen, and sorrow better dinner than she'll give you: you'll get all instantly--(_To Miss GALLAGHER_) And am not I telling you, Florry, that the drum-major did not come in yet at all, but went out through the town, to see and get a billet and bed for the sick man they've got.

_Enter BIDDY, stops and listens._

_Miss G._ I wonder the major didn't have the manners to step in, and spake to the lady first--was he an Irishman, he would.

_Biddy._ Then it's my wonder he wouldn't step in to take his dinner first--was he an Englishman, he would. But it's lucky for me and for him he didn't, becaase he couldn't, for it won't be ready this three-quarters of an hour--only the Scotch broth, which boiled over.

[_BIDDY retires, and goes on cooking.--CHRISTY fills out a gla.s.s of spirits to each of the band._

_Miss G._ Since the major's not in it, I'll not be staying here--for here's only riff-raff triangle and gridiron boys, and a black-a-moor, and that I never could stand; so I'll back into the room. Show the major up, do you mind, father, as soon as ever he'd come.

_Christy._ Jantlemen all! here's the king's health, and confusion worse confounded to his enemies, for yees; or if ye like it better, here's the plaid tartan and fillibeg for yees, and that's a comprehensive toast--will give ye an appet.i.te for your dinners.

[_They drink in silence._

_Miss G._ Did ye hear me, father?

_Christy._ Ay, ay.--Off with ye!

[_Exit Miss GALLAGHER, tossing back her head.--CHRISTY pours out a gla.s.s of whiskey for himself, and with appropriate graces of the elbow and little finger, swallows it, making faces of delight._

_Christy._ Biddy! Biddy, girl, ye!--See the pig putting in his nose--keep him out--can't ye?

_Biddy._ Hurrush! hurrush! (_Shaking her ap.r.o.n._) Then that pig's as sinsible as any Christian, for he'd run away the minute he'd see me.

_Christy._ That's manners o' the pig.--Put down a power more turf, Biddy:--see the jantlemen's gathering round the fire, and has a right to be _could_ in their knees this St. Patrick's day in the morning--for it's March, that comes in like a lion.

[_The band during this speech appear to be speaking to BIDDY.--She comes forward to CHRISTY._

_Christy._ What is it they are whispering and conjuring, Biddy?

_Biddy._ 'Twas only axing me, they were, could they all get beds the night in it.

_Christy._ Beds! ay can yees, and for a dozen more--only the room above is tinder in the joists, and I would not choose to put more on the floor than two beds, and one shake-down, which will answer for five; for it's a folly to talk,--I'll tell you the truth, and not a word of lie.

Wouldn't it be idle to put more of yees in the room than it could hold, and to have the floor be coming through the parlour ceiling, and so spoil two good rooms for one night's bad rest, jantlemen?--Well, Biddy, what is it they're saying?

_Biddy._ They say they don't understand--can they have beds or not?

_Christy._ Why, body and bones! No, then, since nothing else will they comprehend,--_no_,--only five, say,--five can sleep in it.

[_The band divide into two parties,--Five remain, and the others walk off in silence._

_Biddy._ And it's into the room you'd best walk up, had not yees, five jantlemen, that sleep?

[_The five walk into the parlour--CHRISTY preparing to follow, carrying whiskey bottle and, jug--turns back, and says to BIDDY,_

Is it dumb they are all? or _innocents_?

_Biddy._ Not at all innocents, no more than myself nor yourself. Nor dumb neither, only that the Scotch tongue can't spake English as we do.

_Christy._ Oh! if that's all, after dinner the whiskey punch will make 'em spake, I'll engage.