Patsy, intolerably overburdened, loses his balance, and sits down involuntarily.  His burdens are scattered over the hillside.  Cornelius and Father Dempsey turn furiously on him, leaving Broadbent beaming at the stone and the tower with fatuous interest.

Cornelius.  Oh, be the hokey, the sammin’s broke in two!  You schoopid ass, what d’ye mean?

Father Dempsey.  Are you drunk, Patsy Farrell?  Did I tell you to carry that hamper carefully or did I not?

Patsy [rubbing the back of his head, which has almost dented a slab of granite] Sure me fut slpt.  Howkn I carry three men’s luggage at wanst?

Father Dempsey.  You were told to leave behind what you couldn’t carry, an go back for it.

Patsy.  An whose things was I to lave behind?  Hwat would your reverence think if I left your hamper behind 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?