Then my poor wife lost her senses, and I
haven't had peace or ease ever since. She thinks that
she is the Queen of England, and that I'm the King.
FAVLEY
An' have you no children?
DEVLIN
One boy.
FALVEY
An' what does he do for a livin'?
DEVLIN
He's a private in the militia, and his mother thinks
he's the Prince of Wales.
FALVEY
God help us all, but 'tis the queer things that happen
to the poor.
DEVLIN
An' what are you doin' in these parts?
FALVEY
Lookin' for work.
DEVLIN
An' that itself is the worst kind of hardship. I don't
think that there's much doin' these times for the
natives, not to mention the strangers, though 'tis
the strangers get the pickings wherever they go.
We'll have a look at the newspaper and see what's
doin' anyway. (_Reads from the advertisement columns_)
"Wanted a respectable man, to act as a coachman to
His Lordship the Bishop. He must have a good appearance,
have sober habits, and a knowledge of
horses and the ways of the clergy."
That won't do.
"Wanted, a young man of dashing appearance, with
a good vocabulary to act as travelling salesman, must
be well recommended, and have a thorough knowledge
of the dry goods business."
That won't do either.
"Wanted, a middle-aged man to act as companion to
an invalid.
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