It seemed long before Mrs. Courage had found the strength to live up to her convictions, by faintly murmuring: “Who else?”
“Then tell me what you accuse me of?”
Mrs. Courage saw her advantage. “We ain’t ’ere to accuse nobody of nothink. If it’s ’intin’ that I’d tyke awye anyone’s character it’s a thing I’ve ’ardly ever done, and no one can sye it of me. All we want is to give our notice––”
“Then why don’t you do it—and go?”
Once more Steptoe intervened, diplomatically. “That’s what Mrs. Courage is a-doin’ of, madam. She’s finished, ain’t you Mary Ann? Jynie and Nettie is finished too––”
But it was Letty now who refused this mediation.
“No, they ain’t finished. Let ’em go on.”
But no one did go on. Mrs. Courage was now dumb. She was dumb and frightened, falling back on her two supporters. All three together they huddled between the portières. If Steptoe could have calmed his protégée he would have done it; but she was beyond his control.
“Am I the ruin and shame to this house that you was talkin’ about just now? If I am, why don’t you speak out and put it to me plain?”
There was no response. The spectators looked on as if they were at the theater.