If he hadn't been able to swim he would have been drowned!
Thea.
Your hair is coming down, Martha, your hair is coming down.
Martha.
Pooh!——Let it come down! It bothers me day and night. I may not wear short hair like you; I may not wear my hair down my back like Wendla; I may not wear bangs, and I must always do my hair up at home——all on account of my aunt!
Wendla.
I'll bring the scissors with me to-morrow to devotions. While you are saying, “Blessed are they who do not stray,” I will clip it off.
Martha.
For heaven's sake, Wendla! Papa would beat me black and blue, and Mamma would lock me up in the coal hole for three nights.
Wendla.