a peaceful interlude

Evening at the Chateau de Healy.
I find the Mammy alone in the front room with the phone extension pressed to her ear.
She is listening intently, her hand over the mouth piece.
"What are you doing?" quoth I innocently.
"I'm listening in on one of your father's phone conversations," sez she.
"Mother," crieth I.
"I know, I know," sez she.
"Who's he talking to?" wondereth I.
"Some ould codger from his childhood in Blessington," explaineth she.
"You really shouldn't be listening in," murmureth I.
The Mammy nods.
"I promise you I'll never do it again," sez she bitterly. "Such a boring load of shite I've never heard in my life."