Ralph: Take care might he be nearer than what you think!
   (He points at Simon.  All look at him.)

Staffy: Sure enough it is with himself only we found him on the hearth this morning.

Delia: He hasn’t hardly the intellect to be the thief.

Simon: I tell you I never since the day I was born could be charged with the weight of a brass pin!

Staffy: It is to Damer, my fine boy, you will have to make out your case.

Simon: So I will make it out.  Where now is Damer?

Staffy: He is gone down the road, where he brought away Jubair the dog.

Simon: What are you saying?  The dog gone is it? (Goes to door.)

Ralph:  (Taking hold of him.) What makes you go out in such a hurry?

Simon: What is that to you?

Delia: What cause has he to be making a run?

Simon: Let me mind my own business.

Staffy: It is maybe our own business.

Simon: To make a search I must in that dog’s kennel of straw.

Delia: Go out, Ralph, till you will bring it in.

   (Ralph goes out.)

Staffy:  (Seizing him) A man to go rush out headlong and money after being stolen, I have no mind to let him make his escape.

Delia: If you are honest let you stop within and not to put a bad appearance upon yourself making off.

Simon: Let me out!  I tell you I have a thing concealed in the box.

Staffy: A strange place to go hiding things and a queer story altogether.

Delia: Do not let go your hold.  He to go out into the street, he has the wide world before him.

Ralph:  (Dragging kennel in.) Here now is the box.

Simon:  (Breaking away and searching it) Where at all is it vanished?

Staffy: It is lies he was telling.  There is nothing at all within in it only a wisp of barley straw.

Simon: Where at all is it?

Staffy: What is it is gone from you?

Simon: Not a one pound left!

Delia: Why would you look to find coins of money down in Jubair’s bed?

Simon: It is there I hid it.

Staffy: What is it you hid?

Simon: All that was in the crock and that I took from it.  Where now is my bag of gold?

Staffy: Do you hear what he is after saying?

Ralph: A lad of that sort will not be safe but in the gaol.  Let us give him into the grip of the law.

Delia: No, but let the man owned it do that.

Staffy: So he can task him with it, and he drawing to the door.

Delia:  (Going to it.) It is time for you, Patrick, come in.

   (Damer comes in dragging a sack.)