MRS. DUDGEON. (_peremptorily_). Don’t answer me, Miss; but show your obedience by doing what I tell you. (_Essie, almost in tears, crosses the room to the door near the sofa._) And don’t forget your prayers. (_Essie goes out._) She’d have gone to bed last night just as if nothing had happened if I’d let her.
CHRISTY. (_phlegmatically_). Well, she can’t be expected to feel Uncle Peter’s death like one of the family.
MRS. DUDGEON. What are you talking about, child? Isn’t she his daughter—the punishment of his wickedness and shame? (_She assaults her chair by sitting down._)
CHRISTY. (_staring_). Uncle Peter’s daughter!
MRS. DUDGEON. Why else should she be here? D’ye think I’ve not had enough trouble and care put upon me bringing up my own girls, let alone you and your good-for-nothing brother, without having your uncle’s bastards—
CHRISTY. (_interrupting her with an apprehensive glance at the door by which Essie went out_). Sh! She may hear you.
MRS. DUDGEON. (_raising her voice_). Let her hear me. People who fear God don’t fear to give the devil’s work its right name. (_Christy, soullessly indifferent to the strife of Good and Evil, stares at the fire, warming himself._) Well, how long are you going to stare there like a stuck pig? What news have you for me?
CHRISTY. (_taking off his hat and shawl and going to the rack to hang them up_). The minister is to break the news to you. He’ll be here presently.
CHRISTY. (_standing on tiptoe, from boyish habit, to hang his hat up, though he is quite tall enough to reach the peg, and speaking with callous placidity, considering the nature of the announcement_). Father’s dead too.
CHRISTY. (_sulkily, coming back to the fire and warming himself again, attending much more to the fire than to his mother_). Well, it’s not my fault. When we got to Nevinstown we found him ill in bed. He didn’t know us at first. The minister sat up with him and sent me away. He died in the night.
MRS. DUDGEON. (_bursting into dry angry tears_). Well, I do think this is hard on me—very hard on me. His brother, that was a disgrace to us all his life, gets hanged on the public gallows as a rebel; and your father, instead of staying at home where his duty was, with his own family, goes after him and dies, leaving everything on my shoulders. After sending this girl to me to take care of, too! (_She plucks her shawl vexedly over her ears._) It’s sinful, so it is; downright sinful.
