JOE. [Annoyed by song—frets. Goes to the door.] Here, you boys—don't hang around that shop; go up in the square an' sing.
MRS. VERNON. What you sen' 'em away fur?
JOE. Oh, it's one o' them blamed "mother" songs. Nobody ever sings anything about father—except the "Old man's drunk again," or somethin' like that.
DAVE. Your move, Lizbeth.
LIZBETH. [Petulantly.] Don't I know it?
SAM. Move there.
DAVE. Hold on, I can't beat both of you.
LIZBETH. Don't tell me, Sam. I'd a moved there anyway. Come on, Dave.
KATE. [Solus.] A whole hour longer; I cannot wait.
MRS. VERNON. What's fretting you, Kate?