Woman. O Peg! an’ would ye go from us, an’ to be a slave?
Man (picking up bundles). ’Tis all a trap to nab us.
Peg. No, there be no trap.
Woman. An’ what use of our seein’ the lady?
Peg. She be loath to keep anybody’s child without consent. The little un begs me stay; an’ I must.
Woman (entreatingly). Don’t, Peg! Let her go. She ben’t one o’ our sort.
Peg. I can’t; an’ the truth must be spoken to ye. I’m tired o’ trampin’, tired o’ beggin’ an’ thievin’, an’ skulkin’ about; an’, what’s more, I can’t lose sight o’ her.
Woman (sorrowfully). O Peg! An’ how could the little un bewitch ye so?
Peg. I can’t tell that. How can I tell what makes me pine for a sight o’ her sweet face, an’ why ’tis that the sound o’ her sweet voice touches me here (places hand on her heart), an’ why ’tis I weep when she tells me of the angels and holy things? Will ye go, or no? (Moves towards door.)
Man to Woman (confidentially). Between you an’ me, I’d sooner have Peg there. Don’t ye see? (Claps hand on her shoulder.) Many’s the nice bit she’ll help us to, or a silver penny, or a spoon.