ESSIE.
I—
MRS. DUDGEON.
(peremptorily). Don’t answer me, Miss; but show your obedience by doing what I tell you. (Essie, almost in tears, crosses the room to the door near the sofa.) And don’t forget your prayers. (Essie goes out.) She’d have gone to bed last night just as if nothing had happened if I’d let her.
CHRISTY.
(phlegmatically). Well, she can’t be expected to feel Uncle Peter’s death like one of the family.
MRS. DUDGEON.
What are you talking about, child? Isn’t she his daughter—the punishment of his wickedness and shame? (She assaults her chair by sitting down.)
CHRISTY.
(staring). Uncle Peter’s daughter!
MRS. DUDGEON.
Why else should she be here? D’ye think I’ve not had enough trouble and care put upon me bringing up my own girls, let alone you and your good-for-nothing brother, without having your uncle’s bastards—
CHRISTY.
(interrupting her with an apprehensive glance at the door by which Essie went out). Sh! She may hear you.
MRS. DUDGEON.
(raising her voice). Let her hear me. People who fear God don’t fear to give the devil’s work its right name. (Christy, soullessly indifferent to the strife of Good and Evil, stares at the fire, warming himself.) Well, how long are you going to stare there like a stuck pig? What news have you for me?
CHRISTY.
(taking off his hat and shawl and going to the rack to hang them up). The minister is to break the news to you. He’ll be here presently.
MRS. DUDGEON.
Break what news?