Vermont (aside). Lisa! Now, there's a name; and I went and called her Moses.
Moselle. Lisa, Lisa! Why, somebody called me by that name long, long ago.
Nevada. No: that was my child's name.
Vermont. Right, Nevada: your child left in my arms; your child that has been tenderly cared for, who is the luck of this camp. (Crosses, and takes Moselle's hand.)
Tom and Jube. Our Mosey!
Vermont. Is—
Nevada. My child!
Vermont. Lisa Murdock. (Passes her to C.)
Moselle. My father, you—
Nevada (clasping her in his arms). Mine, mine at last.