FATHER DEMPSEY. Hwat hotel?

AUNT JUDY. Indeedn you'e not goin to a hotel. You'll stay with
us. I'd have put you into Larry's room, only the boy's pallyass
is too short for you; but we'll make a comfortable bed for you on
the sofa in the parlor.

BROADBENT. You're very kind, Miss Doyle; but really I'm ashamed
to give you so much trouble unnecessarily. I shan't mind the
hotel in the least.

FATHER DEMPSEY. Man alive! There's no hotel in Rosscullen.

BROADBENT. No hotel! Why, the driver told me there was the finest
hotel in Ireland here. [They regard him joylessly].

AUNT JUDY. Arra would you mind what the like of him would tell
you? Sure he'd say hwatever was the least trouble to himself and
the pleasantest to you, thinkin you might give him a thruppeny
bit for himself or the like.

BROADBENT. Perhaps there's a public house.

FATHER DEMPSEY [grimly.] There's seventeen.

AUNT JUDY. Ah then, how could you stay at a public house? They'd
have no place to put you even if it was a right place for you to
go. Come! is it the sofa you're afraid of? If it is, you can have
me own bed. I can sleep with Nora.