Three Plays: The Fiddler's House, The Land, Thomas Muskerry Part 29

TOURNOUR If he's sitting up late he'll want more coal to his fire.

CHRISTY Well, the abstracts will have to be finished to-night.

TOURNOUR Then he will be staying up. He goes out for a walk in the evenings now, and I don't know where he does be going.

CHRISTY He goes out for a walk in the country. _(Tournour makes a leer of contempt)_ Do you never go for a walk in the country, Felix Tournour?

TOURNOUR They used to take me out for walks when I was a little fellow, but they never got me out into the country since.

CHRISTY I suppose, now that you're in the porter's lodge, you watch every one that goes up and down the road?

TOURNOUR It gratifies me to do so--would you believe that now?

CHRISTY You know a lot, Felix Tournour.

TOURNOUR We're told to advance in knowledge, young fellow. How long is Tom Muskerry the Master of Garrisowen Workhouse?

CHRISTY Thirty years this spring.

TOURNOUR Twenty-nine years.

CHRISTY He's here thirty years according to the books.

TOURNOUR Twenty-nine years.

CHRISTY Thirty years.

TOURNOUR Twenty-nine years. I was born in the workhouse, and I mind when the Master came in to it. Whist now, here he is, and time for him.

_He falls into an officious manner. He closes up the stove and puts bucket away. Then he goes over to desk, and, with his foot on the rung of the office stool, he turns the gas on full. Christy Clarke gets out of armchair, and begins to arrange the periodicals that are on wooden chair. The corridor door opens. The man who appears is not the Master, however. He is the blind piper, Myles Gorman, who is dressed in the pauper garb. Myles Gorman is a Gael of the West of Ireland, with a face full of intellectual vigour. He is about sixty, and carries himself with energy. His face is pale and he has a fringe of a white beard. The eye-b.a.l.l.s in his head are contracted, but it is evident he has some vestiges of sight. Before the others are aware who he is, he has advanced into the room. He stands there now turning the attentive face of the blind_.

GORMAN Mister Muskerry! Are you there, Mister Muskerry?

TOURNOUR What do you want, my oul' fellow?

GORMAN _(with a puzzled look)_ Well, now, I've a favour to ask of your honour.

TOURNOUR Be off out of this to your ward.

GORMAN Is that Mister Muskerry?

CHRISTY Mister Muskerry isn't here.

GORMAN And who am I talking to?

CHRISTY You are talking to Felix Tournour.

GORMAN Felix Tournour! Ay, ay. Good night, Felix Tournour. When will the Master be back?

TOURNOUR _(coming to him)_ Not till you're out of this, and back in your ward.

GORMAN Wasn't there a boy speaking to me?

CHRISTY Yes _(speaking as if to a deaf man)_ The Master will be going the rounds in a while, and you can speak to him in the ward.

GORMAN I've a favour to ask the Master, and I don't want to ask it before the others. _(To Christy)_ Will the Master be here soon, a vick vig? [6]

TOURNOUR _(taking him by the shoulders)_ Here, now, come on, this is your way out.

_He turns Gorman to the door. As he is putting him out Thomas Muskerry enters_

TOURNOUR This oul' fellow came into the office, and I was leading him back into his ward.

MUSKERRY Leave the man alone.

_Tournour retreats to the stove and takes up the bucket; after a look behind he goes out and closes the corridor door. Christy Clarke takes the periodicals over to table and sits down. Myles Gorman has been eager and attentive. Thomas Muskerry stands with his back to the stove. He is over sixty. He is a large man, fleshy in face and figure, sanguine and benevolent in disposition. He has the looks and movements of one in authority. His hair is white and long; his silver beard is trimmed. His clothes are loosely fitting. He wears no overcoat, but has a white knitted m.u.f.fler round his neck. He has on a black, broad-brimmed hat, and carries a walking-stick._

[Footnote 6: _A mhic bhig,_ my little son.]

MUSKERRY Well, my good man?

GORMAN I'm here to ask a favour from you, Master.

MUSKERRY You should proffer your request when I'm in the ward.

However, I'm ready to give you my attention.

GORMAN I'm a blinded man, Master, and when you're in the ward I can't get you by yourself conveniently. I can't come up to you like the other oul' men and speak to you private like.

MUSKERRY Well, now, what can I do for you?

GORMAN _(eagerly)_ They tell me that to-morrow's the market-day, and I thought that you might give me a pa.s.s, and let me go out about the town.

MUSKERRY We'll consider it, Gorman.

GORMAN Master, let me out in the town on the market-day.

MUSKERRY We couldn't let you out to play your pipes through the town.

GORMAN I'm not thinking of the music at all, Master, but to be out in the day and to feel the throng moving about, and to be talking to the men that do be on the roads.

MUSKERRY We'll consider it, Gorman. _(He takes off m.u.f.fler, and puts it on back of armchair)_

GORMAN Well, I'm very much obliged to your honour. Good night to you, Master. _(He pa.s.ses Muskerry and goes towards the door. Muskerry has been regarding him)_

MUSKERRY Tell me this, Gorman, were you always on the roads?

GORMAN I was driving cattle, and I was dealing in horses. Then I took up with an oul' man, and he taught me the pipes. I'm playing the pipes ever since, and that's thirty years ago. Well, the eyes began to wither up on me, and now I've only a stim of sight. I'm a blinded man from this out, Master.

MUSKERRY And what will you do?