(He lays down hayfork and lights his pipe.)

BARTLEY.  You will not get it into tramps to-day.  The rain will be down on it by evening, and on myself too.  It’s seldom I ever started on a journey but the rain would come down on me before I’d find any place of shelter.

JACK SMITH.  If it didn’t itself, Bartley, it is my belief you would carry a leaky pail on your head in place of a hat, the way you’d not be without some cause of complaining.

(A voice heard:  “Go on, now, go on out o’ that.  Go on, I say.")

JACK SMITH.  Look at that young mare of Pat Ryan’s that is backing into Shaughnessy’s bullocks with the dint of the crowd!  Don’t be daunted, Pat, I’ll give you a hand with her. (He goes out, leaving his hayfork.)

MRS. FALLON.  It’s time for ourselves to be going home.  I have all I bought put in the basket.  Look at there, Jack Smith’s hayfork he left after him!  He’ll be wanting it. (Calls) Jack Smith!  Jack Smith!—­He’s gone through the crowd; hurry after him, Bartley, he’ll be wanting it.

BARTLEY.  I’ll do that.  This is no safe place to be leaving it. (He takes up fork awkwardly and upsets the basket.) Look at that now!  If there is any basket in the fair upset, it must be our own basket! (He goes out to right.)

MRS. FALLON.  Get out of that!  It is your own fault, it is.  Talk of misfortunes and misfortunes will come.  Glory be!  Look at my new egg-cups rolling in every part—­and my two pound of sugar with the paper broke—­

MRS. TARPEY (turning from stall).  God help us, Mrs. Fallon, what happened your basket?

MRS. FALLON.  It’s himself that knocked it down, bad manners to him. (Putting things up) My grand sugar that’s destroyed, and he’ll not drink his tea without it.  I had best go back to the shop for more, much good may it do him!

(Enter TIM CASEY.)

TIM CASEY.  Where is Bartley Fallon, Mrs. Fallon?  I want a word with him before he’ll leave the fair.  I was afraid he might have gone home by this, for he’s a temperate man.

MRS. FALLON.  I wish he did go home!  It’d be best for me if he went home straight from the fair green, or if he never came with me at all!  Where is he, is it?  He’s gone up the road (jerks elbow) following Jack Smith with a hayfork.

(She goes out to left.)

TIM CASEY.  Following Jack Smith with a hayfork!  Did ever anyone hear the like of that. (Shouts) Did you hear that news, Mrs. Tarpey?

MRS. TARPEY.  I heard no news at all.

TIM CASEY.  Some dispute I suppose it was that rose between Jack Smith and Bartley Fallon, and it seems Jack made off, and Bartley is following him with a hayfork!