The callousness with which Christy names the reprobate jars on the moral sense of the family. Uncle William shakes his head slowly and repeatedly. Mrs. Titus catches her breath convulsively through her nose. Her husband speaks.
UNCLE TITUS.
Well, I hope he will have the grace not to come. I hope so.
The Dudgeons all murmur assent, except Christy, who goes to the window and posts himself there, looking out. Hawkins smiles secretively as if he knew something that would change their tune if they knew it. Anderson is uneasy: the love of solemn family councils, especially funereal ones, is not in his nature. Judith appears at the bedroom door.
JUDITH.
(with gentle impressiveness). Friends, Mrs. Dudgeon. (She takes the chair from beside the fireplace; and places it for Mrs. Dudgeon, who comes from the bedroom in black, with a clean handkerchief to her eyes. All rise, except Essie. Mrs. Titus and Mrs. William produce equally clean handkerchiefs and weep. It is an affecting moment.)
UNCLE WILLIAM.
Would it comfort you, sister, if we were to offer up a prayer?
UNCLE TITUS.
Or sing a hymn?
ANDERSON.
(rather hastily). I have been with our sister this morning already, friends. In our hearts we ask a blessing.
ALL.
(except Essie). Amen.
They all sit down, except Judith, who stands behind Mrs. Dudgeon’s chair.
JUDITH.
(to Essie). Essie: did you say Amen?