This is the signal for the breaking-up of the party.  Anderson takes his hat from the rack and joins Uncle William at the fire.  Uncle Titus fetches Judith her things from the rack.  The three on the sofa rise and chat with Hawkins.  Mrs. Dudgeon, now an intruder in her own house, stands erect, crushed by the weight of the law on women, accepting it, as she has been trained to accept all monstrous calamities, as proofs of the greatness of the power that inflicts them, and of her own wormlike insignificance.  For at this time, remember, Mary Wollstonecraft is as yet only a girl of eighteen, and her Vindication of the Rights of Women is still fourteen years off.  Mrs. Dudgeon is rescued from her apathy by Essie, who comes back with the jug full of water.  She is taking it to Richard when Mrs. Dudgeon stops her.

Mrs. Dudgeon (threatening her).  Where have you been? (Essie, appalled, tries to answer, but cannot.) How dare you go out by yourself after the orders I gave you?

Essie.  He asked for a drink—­(she stops, her tongue cleaving to her palate with terror).

Judith (with gentler severity).  Who asked for a drink? (Essie, speechless, points to Richard.)

Richard.  What!  I!

Judith (shocked).  Oh Essie, Essie!

Richard.  I believe I did. (He takes a glass and holds it to Essie to be filled.  Her hand shakes.) What! afraid of me?

Essie (quickly).  No.  I—­ (She pours out the water.)

Richard (tasting it).  Ah, you’ve been up the street to the market gate spring to get that. (He takes a draught.) Delicious!  Thank you. (Unfortunately, at this moment he chances to catch sight of Judith’s face, which expresses the most prudish disapproval of his evident attraction for Essie, who is devouring him with her grateful eyes.  His mocking expression returns instantly.  He puts down the glass; deliberately winds his arm round Essie’s shoulders; and brings her into the middle of the company.  Mrs. Dudgeon being in Essie’s way as they come past the table, he says) By your leave, mother (and compels her to make way for them).  What do they call you?  Bessie?

Essie.  Essie.

Richard.  Essie, to be sure.  Are you a good girl, Essie?

Essie (greatly disappointed that he, of all people should begin at her in this way) Yes. (She looks doubtfully at Judith.) I think so.  I mean I—­I hope so.

Richard.  Essie:  did you ever hear of a person called the devil?

Anderson (revolted).  Shame on you, sir, with a mere child—­

Richard.  By your leave, Minister:  I do not interfere with your sermons:  do not you interrupt mine. (To Essie.) Do you know what they call me, Essie?

Essie.  Dick.

Richard (amused:  patting her on the shoulder).  Yes, Dick; but something else too.  They call me the Devil’s Disciple.