JOE. [Doggedly.] No. We'll go to the workhouse.
MARY. You've seen them in there, haven't you?
JOE. Yes.
MARY. You've seen them standing at the window, staring at the world? And they'd take you away from me.
JOE. That's better than—
MARY. [Firmly.] I won't do it, Joe. I've been a good wife to you—I've been a good mother: and I love you, though I'm ragged and have pawned all my clothes; and I'll strangle myself rather than go to the workhouse and be shut away from you.
JOE. [With a loud cry.] No! I'll make them give me something; and if I have to kill, it shan't be my wife and child! To-morrow I'll come home with food and money—to-morrow—
[There is a sudden wail from the child; JOE stops and stares at her; MARY goes quickly to the mattress and soothes the little girl.
MARY. Hush, dear, hush—no it's not morning yet, not time for breakfast. Go to sleep again, dear. Yes, daddy's come back, and things are going to be all right now—No, dear, you can't be hungry, really—remember those beautiful cakes. Go to sleep, Minnie, dear. You're cold? [She takes off her ragged shawl and wraps it round the child.] There, dear, you won't be cold now. Go to sleep, Minnie—
[The child's wail dies away, as MARY soothes her back to sleep.