glasses, and appears to be some fifty years of age.)

Daniel. Yes. Did the Whig come yet?

Mary. Yes. I put it in your workshop.

Daniel (glancing at the clock). Bless my heart, it's half-past one!

Mary (reproachfully). It is, indeed, uncle.

Daniel. Well! Well! Time goes round, Mary. Time goes round. (Kate picks up the bucket and goes out by the yard door.) Where's your father? (He crosses over to the workshop door.)

Mary. He's out working with Sam Brown at the threshing all morning since seven o'clock.

Daniel. Well! Well! A very industrious man is John Murray. Very. But lacking in brains, my dear—lacking in brains. Kind, good-hearted, easy-going, but—ah! well, one can't help these things. (He goes towards the workshop.) Where did you say the Whig was, Mary?

Mary. It's in your workshop. (He crosses over to go there.)

Mary. You were very late coming in last night, uncle.

Daniel. Eh? (He goes in, gets the paper, comes out again.)

Mary. I heard you coming in, and the clock was just after striking two. (He sits down and opens paper.)

Daniel. Well—I met a few friends last night. Appreciative friends I could talk to, and I was explaining that new idea of mine that I've been working at so long—that new idea for a fan-bellows. It's a great thing. Oh yes. It should be. I sat up quite a while last night, thinking it over, and I believe I've got more ideas about it—better ones.

Mary. Do you think you'll make money off it, uncle?

Daniel. Mary—if it comes off—if I can get someone to take it up, I believe 'twill make our fortune, I do.

Mary. Oh, uncle, it would be lovely if you did, and I would just die to see that nasty McMinn woman's face when she hears about you making such a hit.

Daniel. McMinn? Has that woman been sneering about me again? That's one woman, Mary, I can't stand. I can never do myself justice explaining ideas in company when that woman is present.

Mary. Never mind her, uncle. (Coming close beside him.) Do you mind the time last time, uncle, when you went up to Belfast for a week to see about that patent for—what's this the patent was, uncle?

Daniel (uncomfortably). Last time? Aye? Why?

Mary. Yes. Don't you remember you said you knew of an awfully nice boy that you met, and you were going to bring him down here.

Daniel. Upon my soul, I had clean forgotten. Yes, yes. I think I did say something about a young fellow I met.

Mary. Was he nice, uncle?

Daniel (becoming absorbed in the newspaper). Eh? I think so. Oh. He was—very nice chap.

Mary. Well, you said he was coming here to see me, and he never turned up yet.

Daniel. Did I? Very possibly. I suppose he must have forgotten.

Mary (walking away to the left and then back again pouting). I'm sick of the boys here. There's only Alick McCready that's anyway passable. When will you see him again, uncle?

Daniel. Well—possibly, when I go up to town again. Very soon, perhaps. That is if your father, Mary, can spare the money.

Mary (thoughtfully). I don't know, uncle. You see that would be five times now, and somehow you never seem to get anything done. That's what he said, mind you, uncle.

Daniel (mournfully). Well! Well! To think of me toiling and moiling away in that workshop of mine, day after day, and week after week, and year after year—and there's all the thanks you get for it.

Mary. Uncle?

Daniel (somewhat irritably as he gets engrossed reading). Well?

Mary. Look, if you went up to Belfast again soon, won't you see that boy? I wonder what he's like. (She gets close beside her uncle and nestles beside him.) Is he dark or fair?

Daniel. Yes, yes. I think so.

Mary. Dark?

Daniel. Yes. I believe he is dark.

Mary. And tall?

Daniel (trying vainly to read in spite of the interruptions). Very tall.

Mary. Oh, how nice! And uncle, is he good-looking?

Daniel. Very. Fine looking fellow.

Mary. That's grand; and uncle, is he well to do?

Daniel. He has every appearance of it.

Mary. Oh you dear old uncle! (She nestles closer to him.) But maybe he wouldn't look at me when he has a whole lot of town girls to go with.

Daniel. My dear niece, you don't know what a very good-looking young lady you are, and besides he saw your photograph.

Mary. Which photograph?

Daniel (perplexed). Which photograph? Your own of course!

Mary. The one I got taken at Lurgan?

Daniel. Yes. I think so.

Mary. Oh uncle! That horrid thing! Why didn't you show him the one I got taken at Newcastle?

Daniel. My mistake. Very sorry, indeed, Mary, I assure you. But I tell you what, I'll take the album with me next time. Will that do?

Mary (laughing). There. Now you're only joking. (Suddenly.) What do you do all the time you stay in Belfast, uncle?

Daniel (uneasily). Um—um——Business, my dear girl, business. See engineers and all that sort of thing, and talk things over. It takes time, you know, Mary, time.

Mary. You've been an awful long time inventing, uncle, haven't you?

Daniel. Well, you know, Mary dear—time—it takes time. You can't rush an inventor.

Mary. Well look, uncle. You know I can just wheedle father round my wee finger, can't I?

Daniel. You can indeed.

Mary. Well, look: if you promise to bring down this boy you are talking about, I'll get father to give you enough to have two weeks in Belfast. There. It's a bargain.

Daniel. Um—well—he may not be there you know.

Mary (disappointed). O uncle!

Daniel. You see he travels a lot and he may be away. He may be in London. In fact I think—yes. He said he would be going to London.

Mary. Then why not go to London?

Daniel (starting up and speaking as if struck with delight at the possibility). Eh? I never thought of that! (He collapses again.) But no. Your father, Mary. He would never give me the money. No.

Mary. But you're more likely to meet people there