Steve.  So ’twould be—­so ’twould be—­’Twas a grand thought of yourn, Rosie.

Annie.  Steve —

Steve. [Taking her hand.] Annie, I’m fair beside myself this day.

Annie.  O, Steve, there was never a day in my life like this one. [Dorry and Jane come down.

Dorry.  O, Miss Sims, you do look nice!  Gran’ma, don’t Miss Sims look nice?  And Rosie, too.  O, they have nice gowns and hats on, haven’t they, Dad?

Steve.  I don’t see no gowns nor hats, and that’s the truth.  But I sees summat what’s like—­what’s like a meadow of grass in springtime afore the sun’s got on to it.

Dorry.  Why, Dad, ’tis white, not green, as Miss Sims is wearing.

Steve.  ’Tis in the eyes of her as I finds my meadow.

Dorry.  O, let me see, Dad, let me look, too!

Rose. [Going up to George, who has been standing aloof and moody in the background.] Come, Mr. Davis, we must have a look, too.

Jane.  ’Get along, get along.  We han’t time for such foolishness. 
It be close on twelve already.

Annie.  O, let me be, all of you!  I declare, I don’t know which way to look, I don’t.

Steve.  I’ll show you, Annie, then.

Rose. [To George.] Well, Mr. Davis, you don’t seem over bright this morning.

Steve.  ’Tis with the nerves as he be took!

Dorry.  Look at what he’s wearing in his buttonhole, Rosie.

Rose.  ’Tis kept beautiful and fresh.

Steve.  Come on, come on, all of you.  ’Tis time we was at the church.

Rose.  Hark to him!  He’s in a rare hurry for to get out of the house to-day.

George.  Bain’t the old lady a-coming?

Jane.  That she bain’t, the old drinking gipsy—­’tis at the spirits as her got in the night—­and put away very near the best part of a bottle.  Now she’s best left to sleep it off, she be.

Steve.  Come on, George.  Come, Dorry.

Dorry.  O, isn’t it a pity as Granny will get at the drink, Mr. Davis?  And isn’t Miss Sims nice in her white dress?  And don’t Dad look smiling and pleased?  I never did know Dad smile like this afore.

George. [Heavily.] Come on, Dorry—­you take hold of me.  You and me, we’ll keep nigh one to t’other this day, won’t us?

Rose. [Calling from outside.] Come on, Mr. Davis.

[They all go out.

Act III.—­Scene 2.

Nearly an hour later.  The cottage room is full of sunlight.

Vashti Reed is awake and gazing vacantly about her from the same chair by the fire.  Someone knocks repeatedly at the door from outside.

Vashti.  And ’tis no bit of rest as I gets for my bones, but they must come and hustle I and call I from the dreams which was soft. [The knocking is heard again.