Do you feel any better—shall you have a drink of water? (Laura mournfully shakes her head; Clara turns sharply to Holroyd) She'll 'ave a drop o' something. (Holroyd goes out. Clara meanwhile fans her friend with a handkerchief. Holroyd brings stout. She pours out the stout, smells the glass, smells the bottle—then finally the cork) Eh, mester, it's all of a work—it's had a foisty cork.
[At that instant the stair foot door opens slowly, revealing the children—the girl peering over the boy's shoulder—both in white nightgowns. Everybody starts. Laura gives a little cry, presses her hand on her bosom, and sinks back, gasping.
CLARA (appealing and anxious, to Mrs. Holroyd)
You don't 'appen to 'ave a drop of brandy for her, do you, missis?
[Mrs. Holroyd rises coldly without replying, and goes to the stair foot door where the children stand.
MRS. HOLROYD (sternly, to the children)
Go to bed!
JACK
What's a matter, mother?
MRS. HOLROYD