BROADBENT [beaming candidatorially]. I must thank you very
particularly, Mr Haffigan, for your support this morning. I value
it because I know that the real heart of a nation is the class
you represent, the yeomanry.

MATTHEW [aghast] The yeomanry!!!

LARRY [looking up from his paper]. Take care, Tom! In Rosscullen
a yeoman means a sort of Orange Bashi-Bazouk. In England, Mat,
they call a freehold farmer a yeoman.

MATTHEW [huffily]. I don't need to be insthructed be you, Larry
Doyle. Some people think no one knows anythin but dhemselves. [To
Broadbent, deferentially] Of course I know a gentleman like you
would not compare me to the yeomanry. Me own granfather was
flogged in the sthreets of Athenmullet be them when they put a
gun in the thatch of his house an then went and found it there,
bad cess to them!

BROADBENT [with sympathetic interest]. Then you are not the first
martyr of your family, Mr Haffigan?

MATTHEW. They turned me out o the farm I made out of the stones o
Little Rosscullen hill wid me own hans.

BROADBENT. I have heard about it; and my blood still boils at the
thought. [Calling] Hodson--

HODSON [behind the corner of the house] Yes, sir. [He hurries
forward].