MR. HUBBARD (taking it from her). Now, dear, I will go down and put them in position. Let us hope that fortune will be kind to us.
MRS. HUBBARD. Let us hope so, darling. And quickly. For (picking up her page of the magazine) it is a trifle cold. [He goes out and she is left reading.
SCENE II.—Outside the house the snow lies deep. The stocking and sock are tied on to the door-knocker. There is a light in the window.
A party of carol-singers, with lanterns, come by and halt in the snow outside the house.
PETER ABLEWAYS. Friends, are we all assembled?
JONAS HUMPHREY. Ay, ay, Peter Ableways, assembled and met together in a congregation, for the purpose of lifting up our voices in joyous thanksgiving, videlicet the singing of a carol or other wintry melody.
JENNIFER LING. Keep your breath for your song, Master Humphrey. That last "Alleluia" of yours was a poor windy thing, lacking grievously in substance.
JONAS (sadly). It is so. I never made much of an Alleluia. It is not in my nature somehow. 'Tis a vain boastful thing an Alleluia.
MARTHA PORRITT. Are we to begin soon, Master Ableways? My feet are cold.
JONAS. What matter the feet, Martha Porritt, if the heart be warm with loving-kindness and seasonable emotions?