ehind in the wet grass; n
hwat would the masther say if I left the sammin and the goose be
the side o the road for annywan to pick up?

CORNELIUS. Oh, you've a dale to say for yourself, you,
butther-fingered omadhaun. Wait'll Ant Judy sees the state o that
sammin: SHE'LL talk to you. Here! gimme that birdn that fish
there; an take Father Dempsey's hamper to his house for him; n
then come back for the rest.

FATHER DEMPSEY. Do, Patsy. And mind you don't fall down again.

PATSY. Sure I--

CORNELIUS [bustling him up the bill] Whisht! heres Ant Judy.
[Patsy goes grumbling in disgrace, with Father Dempsey's hamper].

Aunt Judy comes down the hill, a woman of 50, in no way
remarkable, lively and busy without energy or grip, placid
without tranquillity, kindly without concern for others: indeed
without much concern for herself: a contented product of a
narrow, strainless life. She wears her hair parted in the middle
and quite smooth, with a fattened bun at the back. Her dress is a
plain brown frock, with a woollen pelerine of black and aniline
mauve over her shoulders, all very trim in honor of the occasion.
She looks round for Larry; is puzzled; then stares incredulously
at Broadbent.

AUNT JUDY. Surely to goodness that's not you, Larry!

CORNELIUS. Arra how could he be Larry, woman alive? Larry's in
no hurry home, it seems. I haven't set eyes on him. This is his
friend, Mr Broadbent. Mr Broadbent, me sister Judy.

AUNT JUDY [hospitably: going to Broadbent and shaking hands
heartily]. Mr. Broadbent! Fancy me takin you for Larry! Sure we
haven't seen a sight of him for eighteen years, n he only a lad
when he left us.

BROADBENT. It's not Larry's fault: he was to have been here
before me. He started in our motor an hour before Mr Doyle
arrived, to meet us at Athenmullet, intending to get here long
before me.

AUNT JUDY. Lord save us! do you think he's had n axidnt?

BROADBENT. No: he's wired to say he's had a breakdown and will
come on as soon as he can. He expects to be here at about ten.

AUNT JUDY. There now! Fancy him trustn himself in a motor and we
all expectn him! Just like him! he'd never do anything like
anybody else. Well, what can't be cured must be injoored. Come on
in, all of you. You must be dyin for your tea, Mr Broadbent.

BROADBENT [with a slight start]. Oh, I'm afraid it's too late for
tea [he looks at his watch].

AUNT JUDY. Not a bit: we never have it airlier than this. I hope
they gave