A mature country woman holding the shaft of some implement addresses a younger one standing languorously at the gate of the garden.
The full caption reads as follows:
Mrs. Magillicuddy (to her daughter). “Why, why, Roseen! What’s been delayin’ ye? And me waitin’ this hour past to come in wid the milk!”
Rose. “O, sure, thin, mother dear, on me way back from the meada’ I met such a darlin’ English jintleman—A rale artist. Why, and he axed me to allow him to take me landskip; and O, mother mavrone, it’s a wonder how like me he med it, glory be to the saints!”