Vashti.  ’Taint with no parsons as I do hold, nor with what may come from the mouths of they, neither.

Jane.  And Steve, I knowed what was in his mind when parson was gone out.  ’Twas not much as he did say, being a man what hasn’t many words to his tongue.  But he took and fetched down his big coat what do hang up yonder, and told I to put a bit of black to the sleeve of it.  Leastways, he didn’t speak the words, but I seed what he was after, and I took and sewed a bit on, and he’s wore it ever since till yesterday—­And that’s eleven year ago it be—­so there.

Vashti.  Her be moving about upon the earth, her be.  And I seems to feel the tread of she at night time, and by day as well.  Her bain’t shrouded, nor boxed, nor no churchyard sod above the limbs of she—­ you take my words—­and there shall come a day when the latch shall rise and her be standing among us and a-calling on her child and husband what’s forgotten she.

Jane.  For goodness sake, Vashti, have done speaking about such things to-night.  If Steve was to hear you, why I shouldn’t wonder if he was to put you out of the door and into the snow—­and ’tis most unfitting for to talk so afore the child.

Vashti. [Calling out loudly.] Come back to I, May—­you come back to I—­there bain’t no one what thinks on the name of you, or what wants you but your old mother.  You come back to I!

Jane.  I’ll thank you for to shut your mouth, old Vashti!  ’Tain’t nothing to be proud on as you’ve got, and ’twould be better if you was to be less free in your hollering.  Look, here’s Dorry coming.

[Dorry comes into the kitchen; she is wearing her new white frock.

Dorry.  See, Granny, I’ve been and put it on for to show you better.  See the lace?  Isn’t it nice?  And the beads, too.  I didn’t stop for to put on my shoes, nor my new stockings.  Nor my hat, what’s got a great long feather all round of it.

Jane.  You bad, naughty girl, Dorry, you’ll crease and tumble that frock so as it’s not fit to be seen to-morrow!  Whatever did you go to put it on for?

Dorry.  So as that Gran should see something pretty, and so as she should come out of her trouble.  Gran’s always got some trouble in her mind, han’t you, Granny?

Vashti.  A twelve year gone by, my child.

Jane.  I’ll give it you if you starts off again.

Vashti.  A twelve year gone by —

Dorry.  A twelve year gone by, what then, Granny?

Vashti.  ’Tis more’n eleven years since her wented out of the door, my child—­your poor mammy.  Out of the door, out of the door!  And likely as not ’twill be feet first as her shall be brought in again.

Dorry.  Granny, was my poor mammy, what’s dead, nice looking like
Miss Sims as is going for to marry Dad, to-morrow?