esticks. Out you go. Out you will go. I want
no tramps in here upsettin' my house and makin' it the talk of the
neighbours. Out you go at once.

TRAMP.

[With drunken pride.]

I thrust my company on no man or woman uninvited.

MRS. GRANAHAN.

Out you go. I want no excuses. Put him out of this Samuel James.

[Samuel James eludes his mother's eye
and beckons the tramp to stay on.]

The drunken wretch comin' in here. A nice place you'd have it William
Granahan with your fine company.

WILLIAM JOHN GRANAHAN.

I brought him home here as a tarr'ble and awful warnin' to Robbie John
what this sort of an occupation brings a man till. Yon see him Robbie
John. There's you're great fiddlin' for you. Be warned in time.

ROBBIE JOHN.

[The tramp moves to the door. Robbie
John rises and goes across to him and
taps him on the shoulder.]

Here.

[Slips him money.]

God bless you poor wanderin' soul and God forbid any Granahan should
ever be treated as you have been.

TRAMP.

Sir, I thank you.

[Coming back to him and confidentially.]

Perhaps I could yet please your ears with a romanza which I composed
myself--

MRS. GRANAHAN.

Away with you out of this. We want none of your music here.

SAMUEL JAMES.

[To tramp.]

Why don't you give up playin' that fiddle of yours and turn your hand
to honest work?

TRAMP.

[Proudly.]

Desert my fiddle. The fiddle presented to me at Vienna by my
orchestra! A genuine old Cremona 200 years old! Rather would I wander
in Hades for ever. Never! Though cruel words stab and wound me.

[Half sobbing.]

Farewell.

[All remain quiet. The strains of a melancholy
air like a serenade come from outside. It
slowly dies away in the distance. Robbie John
moves forward as if to go out.]

MRS. GRANAHAN.

[Sharply.]

Robbie John. Where are you going? Don't dare to leave the house.
My son going out to keep company with the likes of that dirty
rapscallion.

ROBBIE JOHN.

Ah mother pity the