Dorry.  Couldn’t I go along of they, Gran’ma, and wear my new frock, and the beads, too?  I never see’d them dance th’ old year out yet, I haven’t.

Jane.  Get along with you, Dorry.  ’Tis many a year afore you’ll be of an age for such foolishness.  And that’s what I calls it, this messing about with dancing and music and I don’t know what.

Dorry.  Katie Sims be younger nor me and she’s let to go, she is.

Jane.  You bain’t Katie Sims, nor she you.  And if the wedding what’s to-morrow isn’t enough to stuff you up with nonsense, I don’t know what is.

Dorry.  I wish it was to-morrow now, Gran’ma, I do.  Shall you put on your Sunday gown first thing, or wait till just afore we goes to church?

Jane.  How your tongue do go!  Take and bide quiet a bit, if you knows how.

Dorry.  I shall ask Dad if I may go along of him and Miss Sims to the dance, I shall.  Dad’s got that kind to me since last night—­he gived me a sixpence to buy sweets this morning when I hadn’t asked.  And won’t it be nice when Miss Sims comes here to live, and when you has someone to help you in the work, Gran’ma?

Jane.  Well—­’tis to be hoped as ’twill be all right this time.

Dorry.  This time, Gran’ma!  Why, wasn’t it all right when Dad was married afore, then?

Jane. [Getting the lamp from a shelf.] I don’t light up as a rule till ’tis six o’clock, but I count it’s a bit of snow coming as have darkened the air like.

Dorry.  Gran’ma, isn’t Miss Sims nice-looking, don’t you think?  I’d like to wear my hair like hers and have earrings a-hanging from me and a-shaking when I moves my head, I would.

Jane. [Setting the lamp on the table.] Here, fetch me the matches, do.

Dorry. [Bringing the matches.] Was my mammy nice-looking, like Miss Sims, Gran’ma?

Jane.  I’m one as goes by other things nor looks—­For like as not ’tis fine looks as is the undoing of most girls as has them—­give me a plain face and a heart what’s pure, I says, and ’tis not far out as you’ll be.

Dorry.  Was my mammy’s heart pure, Gran’ma? [A moment’s silence.  Jane lights the lamp.  Dorry leans at the table, watching her.

Dorry.  Was my mammy’s—­[A loud knock on the outside door.

Jane.  Who’s that come bothering round!  Run and see, Dorry, there’s a good child.

Dorry.  It’ll be Gran’ma Vashti, I daresay.  She do mostly knock at the door loud with her stick.

[Dorry runs to the window and looks out.

Dorry.  ’Tis her, and the snow white all upon her.

[Dorry goes to the door to open it.

Jane. [To herself.] Of all the meddlesome old women—­why can’t her bide till her’s wanted.