Charity (rises and comes l.). Oh, do be patient! I've a strange fancy to see how you look there in the old seat. Come, take your places, and tell me what you see there. (John sits with Mrs. Maynard on bench, she next the fire; he takes her hand.) That's nice. (Goes to back of bench.) Now, tell me, what see you there? (Enter Stub, door in flat, excitedly.)
Stub. I've put 'em up, Miss Charity, an'—an'—
Charity. Silence, Stub! (He comes down l.)
Stub (aside). Dat's de quarest woman eber I see: ben in de house five minutes, an' not tole de news.
Charity. Well, John, I'm waiting.
John. There, Charity, is my picture-gallery of old memories, that both sadden and cheer waiting and aching hearts. What do I see? (Looking into fire.) The face of my brave soldier boy: the face that has glowed upon us in its noble manhood for many, many years.
Charity. The face of a hero, John: there are no bitter memories there. He died bravely: passed into the better life with the grand army of martyrs, crowned with glory.
Stub. Yas indeed, dead an' gone, Massa Cap'n: God bless him! Miss Charity, am you gwine to tell—
Charity. Be silent! (Stub goes l., shaking his head.)
Stub. I shall bust it out: I can't help it.