Vashti.  ’Twas grand as a tree in full leaf and the wind a-moving all the green of it as was your mammy, my dear.

Dorry.  And did she have fine things to her, nice gowns and things, like Miss Sims, Granny?

Jane.  ’Twas the looks of her and the love of finery and pleasuring what was her undoing, as ’twill be the undoing of you, too, Dorry, if you don’t take care.  ’Tis she as you favours, and none of your father’s people, more’s the pity, and ’tis more thoughtful and serious as you’ll have to grow if you don’t want to come to harm.  You take and go right up, and off with that frock, do you hear me?

Dorry.  O, I wanted to be let to go to the dancing now I’d got it on, I did.

Jane.  Dancing, there you are!  Dancing and finery, ’tis all as you do think on, and ’tis plain to see what’s got working in the inside of you, Dorry.  ’Tis the drop of bad blood as you has got from she what bore you.  But I might as well speak to that door for all you cares.  Only, hark you here, you’ll be sorry one of these days as you han’t minded me better.  And then ’twill be too late.

[Steve comes down the stairs, pushes open the door and enters.

Steve.  Well, Mother, what’s up now?  Gran, you here?  Why, Dorry, what be you a-crying for?

Dorry.  I wants to be let to go to the dancing, Dad—­now that I’ve got my frock on and all.—­O, I wants to be let to go.

Steve.  Well, Mother—­what do you say?  ’Twouldn’t hurt for she to look in about half an hour, and Annie and me we could bring her back betimes.

Dorry.  O, Dad, I wants to go if ’twas only for a minute.

Steve.  There, there—­you shall go and we’ll say no more about it.

Jane.  I never knowed you give in to her so foolish like this afore, Steve.

Steve.  Well, Mother, ’tain’t every day as a man’s married, that ’tain’t.

Vashti.  And so you’re to be wed come to-morrow, Steve?  They tells me as you’re to be wed.

Steve.  That’s right enough, Gran.

Vashti. [Rising.] And there be no resting in me to-day, Steve.  There be summat as burns quick in the bones of my body and that will not let me bide.—­And ’tis steps as I hears on the roadside and in the fields—­and ’tis a bad taste as is in my victuals, and I must be moving, and peering about, and a-taking cold water into my mouth for to do away with the thing on my tongue, which is as the smell of death—­So ’tis.

Jane.  Now she’s off again!  Come, sit you down, Vashti Reed, and I’ll give you summat as’ll very likely warm you and keep you quiet in your chair a while.  Just you wait till I gets the water boiling.

[She begins to stir up the fire and sets a kettle on it.

Dorry. [From the window.] Here’s Miss Sims coming up the path, and Rosie too.  O, they’re wrapped up all over ’cause ’tis snowing.  I’ll open, I’ll open.