HEPHZIBAH. The world's full of husbands. I canna' bide them. They're true enough when they're ailin'—but a lass can't keep her Jo always sick. Hey, Miss Gerty! Do forgi'e your auld Heppy!
GERTRUDE. For what?
HEPHZIBAH. Why, your own man, so I've heered, ne'er had as much as a bit headache till he caught his fever and died o't.
GERTRUDE. No, I never knew Captain Thorpe to complain of an ache or a pain.
HEPHZIBAH. And he was a rare, bonny husband to thee, if a tales be true.
GERTRUDE. Yes, Heppy. [Listening, startled.] Who's this?
HEPHZIBAH. [Going and looking.] Maister Amos. [AMOS enters briskly.]
AMOS. [To GERTRUDE.] How is she?
GERTRUDE. [Assisting him to remove his overcoat.] More as she used to be—so still, so gentle. She's reading.
AMOS. [Looking at her significantly.] Reading?