LIZZIE.  No, he’s no’ asleep, but I’ve shut both doors, and the neighbors canna hear him.

JOHN.  Aw, Lizzie—­

LIZZIE (sharply).  John—­

DAVID.  Whit was I tellin’ ye, John, about weans gettin’ their ain way if the neighbors had ears an’ they lived close?  Was I no’ richt?

LIZZIE (answering for JOHN with some acerbity).  Aye, ye were richt, feyther, nae doot; but we dinna live that close here, an’ the neighbors canna hear him at the back o’ the hoose.

DAVID.  Mebbe that’s why ye changed Alexander into the parlor an’ gied me the bed in here when it began to get cold—–­

LIZZIE (hurt).  Aw, no, feyther; I brought ye in here to be warmer—­

DAVID (placably).  I believe ye, wumman—­(with a faint twinkle)—­but it’s turned oot luckily, has it no’?

(DAVID waits for a reply but gets none.  LIZZIE fetches needlework from the dresser drawer and sits above table.  DAVID’S face and voice take on a more thoughtful tone.)

DAVID (musing).  Puir wee man!  If he was in here you’d no’ be letting him greet his heart oot where onybody could hear him.  Wud ye?

LIZZIE (calmly).  Mebbe I’d no’.

JOHN.  Ye ken fine ye’d no’, wumman.

LIZZIE.  John, thread my needle an’ dinna take feyther’s part against me.

JOHN (surprised).  I’m no’.

LIZZIE.  No, I ken ye’re no meanin’ to, but you men are that thrang—­

(She is interrupted by a loud squall from DAVID, which he maintains, eyes shut, chair-arms gripped, and mouth open, for nearly half a minute, before he cuts it off abruptly and looks at the startled couple at the table.)

LIZZIE.  Mercy, feyther, whit’s wrang wi’ ye?

DAVID (collectedly).  There’s naethin’ wrang wi’ me, Lizzie, except that I’m wantin’ to tell wee Alexander a bit story—­

LIZZIE (firmly but very kindly).  But ye’re no’ goin’ to—­

(She breaks off in alarm as her father opens his mouth preparatory to another yell, which however he postpones to speak to JOHN.)

DAVID.  Ye mind whit I was saying aboot the dispensation o’ Providence to help weans till they could try for theirselves, John?

JOHN.  Aye.

DAVID.  Did it no’ occur to ye then that there ought to be some sort of dispensation to look after the auld yins who were past it?

JOHN.  No.

DAVID.  Aweel—­it didna occur to me at the time—­(and he lets off another prolonged wail).

LIZZIE (going to him).  Shsh!  Feyther!  The neighbors will hear ye!!!

DAVID (desisting as before).  I ken fine; I’m no’ at the back of the hoose. (Shorter wail.)

LIZZIE (almost in tears).  They’ll be coming to ask.

DAVID.  Let them.  They’ll no’ask me. (Squall.)