face on you the like of that?

_Conan_: I'll do well enough. There will be
the black of the smoke from the engine on it any
way, and I after journeying in the train.

_Celia_: You will not go be a disgrace to me.

_Conan_: If it is black it is yourself forced me to it.

_Celia_: If I did I'll make up for it, putting a
clean face upon you now. _(Dips towel in pail and
sings "With a fillip"--air, "Garryowen"--as she
washes him.)_

"Bring to mind how the thrush gathers twigs for his nest
And the honey bee toils without ever a rest
And the fishes swim ever to keep themselves clean,
And you'll praise me for making you fit to be seen!
With a fillip, a fillip, a fillip.
A fillip, a fillip, a fillip.
A fillip, a fillip, a fillip, a fillip,
A fillip, a fillip, a fillip, a fillip!"

_Conan_: Let me go, will you! Let you stop!
The soap that is going into my eye!

_Celia_: My grief you are! Let you be willing
to suffer, so long as you will be tasty and decent
and be a credit to ourselves.

_Conan_: The suds are in my mouth!

_Celia_: One minute now and you'll be as clean
as a bishop!

_Conan_: Let me go, can't you!

_Celia_: Only one thing wanting now.

_Conan_: I'm good enough, I tell you!

_Celia_: To cut the wisp from the back of your
poll.

_Conan_: You will not cut it!

_Celia_: And you'll go into the grandeurs of
Dublin and you being as neat as an egg.

_Conan: (With a roar.)_ Leave meddling with
my hair. I that can change the world with one
turn of my hand!

_Celia_: Wait till I'll find the scissors! That's
not the way to be going showing off in the town,
if you were all the saints and Druids of the universe!

_Conan: (Breaking free and rushing out.)_ My
seven thousand curses on the minute when I didn't
leave you as you were. _(Goes.)_

_Celia: (Looking at Mother.)_ There's meal on
your dress from the cake you're after putting in
the oven--where now did that bellows fall from?
_(Taking up bellows.)_ It comes as handy as a
gimlet. There _(blows the meal off)_, that now will
make a big difference in you.

_Rock: (Seizing bellows.)_ Leave now that down
out of your hand. Let you go looking for a
scissors!

_(Celia goes off singing "The Beautiful City
of Sligo.")_

_Mother: (Sitting down.)_ I'm thinking it's seven
years to-day, James Rock, since you took a lend
of my clock.

_Rock_: You're raving! What call would I have
to ask a lend of your clock?

_Mother_: The way y