Dorry.  There’s Gran gone off on her tales again.

[Jane crosses the hearth and puts a shawl over the head of Vashti, who relapses again into sleep.

Steve. [Sitting down by rose.] What’s this, Rose?  I han’t heard tell of this afore.  Be there aught a-going on with you and George, then?

Rose.  No, Steve, there isn’t nothing in it much, except that George and me we walked out last Sunday in the evening like—­and a two or three time before.

Steve.  And is it that you be a-keeping of that flower for to give to George, then?

Rose.  Well—­’tis for George as I’ve saved it out of some what the gardener up at Squire’s gived me.

Steve. [As though to himself.] ’Tis a powerful many years since George he went a-courting.  I never knowed him so much as look upon a maid, I didn’t since —

Rose.  Well, Steve, I’m sure there’s no need for you to be upset over it.  ’Tis nothing to you who George walks out with, or who he doesn’t.

Steve.  Who said as I was upset, Rose?

Rose.  Look at the long face what you’ve pulled.  Annie, if ’twas me,
I shouldn’t much care about marrying a man with such a look to him.

Annie.  What’s up, Steve?  What’s come over you like, all of a minute?

Steve.  ’Tis naught, Annie, naught.  ’Twas summat of past times what comed into the thoughts of me.  But ’tis naught.  And, Rose, if so be as ’twas you as George is after, I’d wish him to have luck, with all my heart, I would, for George and me—­well, we too has always stuck close one to t’other, as you knows.

Jane.  Ah—­that you has, George and you—­you and George.

Annie.  Hark—­there’s someone coming up now.

Dorry.  O, let me open the door—­let me open it!

[She runs across the room and lifts the latch.  George stands in the doorway shaking the snow from him.  Then he comes into the room.

Dorry.  I’m going to the dance, Mr. Davis.  Look, haven’t I got a nice frock on?

Steve.  Good evening, George, and how be you to-night?

George.  Nicely, Steve, nicely.  Good evening, Mrs. Browning.  Miss Sims, good evening—­Yes, Steve, I’ll off with my coat, for ’tis pretty well sprinkled with snow, like.

[Steve helps George to take off his overcoat.

Rose.  A happy New Year to you, Mr. Davis.

Jane.  And that’s a thing which han’t no luck to it, if ’tis said afore the proper time, Rosie.

Rose.  Well, but ’tis New Year’s Eve, isn’t it?

George.  Ah, so ’tis—­and a terrible nasty storm as ever I knowed!  ’Twas comed up very nigh to my knees, the snow, as I was a-crossing of the meadow.  And there lay some poor thing sheltering below the hedge, with a bit of sacking throwed over her.  I count ’tis very near buried alive as anyone would be as slept out in such a night.