Cornelius.  Well, you see how it is, Larry.  Round about here, we’ve got the land at last; and we want no more Goverment meddlin.  We want a new class o man in parliament:  one dhat knows dhat the farmer’s the real backbone o the country, n doesn’t care a snap of his fingers for the shoutn o the riff-raff in the towns, or for the foolishness of the laborers.

Doran.  Aye; an dhat can afford to live in London and pay his own way until Home Rule comes, instead o wantin subscriptions and the like.

Father Dempsey.  Yes:  that’s a good point, Barney.  When too much money goes to politics, it’s the Church that has to starve for it.  A member of parliament ought to be a help to the Church instead of a burden on it.

Larry.  Here’s a chance for you, Tom.  What do you say?

Broadbent [deprecatory, but important and smiling].  Oh, I have no claim whatever to the seat.  Besides, I’m a Saxon.

Doran.  A hwat?

Broadbent.  A Saxon.  An Englishman.

Doran.  An Englishman.  Bedad I never heard it called dhat before.

Matthew [cunningly].  If I might make so bould, Fadher, I wouldn’t say but an English Prodestn mightn’t have a more indepindent mind about the lan, an be less afeerd to spake out about it, dhan an Irish Catholic.

Cornelius.  But sure Larry’s as good as English:  aren’t you,
Larry?

Larry.  You may put me out of your head, father, once for all.

Cornelius.  Arra why?

Larry.  I have strong opinions which wouldn’t suit you.

Doran [rallying him blatantly].  Is it still Larry the bould
Fenian?

Larry.  No:  the bold Fenian is now an older and possibly foolisher man.

Cornelius.  Hwat does it matter to us hwat your opinions are?  You know that your father’s bought his farm, just the same as Mat here n Barney’s mill.  All we ask now is to be let alone.  You’ve nothin against that, have you?

Larry.  Certainly I have.  I don’t believe in letting anybody or anything alone.

Cornelius [losing his temper].  Arra what d’ye mean, you young fool?  Here I’ve got you the offer of a good seat in parliament; n you think yourself mighty smart to stand there and talk foolishness to me.  Will you take it or leave it?

Larry.  Very well:  I’ll take it with pleasure if you’ll give it to me.

Cornelius [subsiding sulkily].  Well, why couldn’t you say so at once?  It’s a good job you’ve made up your mind at last.

Doran [suspiciously].  Stop a bit, stop a bit.

Matthew [writhing between his dissatisfaction and his fear of the priest].  It’s not because he’s your son that he’s to get the sate.  Fadher Dempsey:  wouldn’t you think well to ask him what he manes about the lan?