May. [As though speaking to herself.] Back and fro, back and fro—­ On the dark of the earth and where ’twas light.  When ’twas cold and no sound but the steps of I on the road, and the fox’s bark; when ’twas hot and the white dust smouldered in the mouth of I, and things flying did plague I with the wings of they—­But ’twas always the same thought as I had—­“Some day I shall come back to Steve,” I did tell me.  And then again—­“Some day I shall get and hold Dorry in my arms.”  And now I be comed.  And Steve—­and Steve—­Ah, I be struck deep to the heart, ’tis so.  Struck deep!

Vashti.  You get upstairs to Steve, May.  Get you up there and take the place what’s yours.

May.  My place, my place!  Where’s that I want to know!  ’Tis another what’s got into the nest now, to lie snug and warm within.  And ’tis for I to spread the wings of me and to go out into the storm again.  So ’tis.

Vashti.  Get you to Steve, May, and let him but look on the form of you and on the bloom, and us’ll see what he will do with t’other hussy then.  Ah, they sneaking, mealy wenches what have got fattened up and licked over by th’ old woman till ’tis queens as they fancies theirselves, you shall tell they summat about what they be, come morning.  And your poor old mother, her’ll speak, too, what hasn’t been let sound her tongue these years gone by.  Ah, hern shall know what us do think of they, hern shall squat upon the floor and hear the truth.

May.  He thought as I was sleeping; but I looked out on her and seed the way his eyes was cast upon the girl.  Steve, if you had cast your eyes on me like that but once, in days gone by—­maybe, maybe I’d not have gone out and shut the door behind I.

Vashti.  Get you to Steve and let him see you with the candle lit.  Her bain’t no match for he, the young weasel!  ’Tis you as has the blood of me and my people what was grand folk in times gone by, ’tis you, May, as is the mate for he, above all them white-jowled things what has honey at the mouth of they, but the heart running over with poison—­Ah, and what throws you the bone and keeps the meat for their own bellies.  What sets the skin afore you and laps the cream theirselves.  Vipers, all of them, and she-cats.  There ’tis.

May.  Sit you down, Mother, and keep the tongue of you quiet.  We don’t want for to waken they.

Vashti. [Sitting down heavily.] But we’ve got to waken Steve for he to know as how you be comed home again.

May.  And where’s the good of that, when there bain’t so much as a board nor a rag, but what’s been stole from I?

Vashti.  You go and say to him as ’tis his wife what have come back to her place.  And put th’ old woman against the chimney there, and let her see you a-cutting of the bread and of the meat, and a-setting out of the food so as that they who be at the table can loose the garments of them when the eating ’tis finished, if they has a mind to, ’stead of drawing they together so not to feel ’tis leer.  Ah, ’tis time you be comed, May, ’tis time.