Mrs. G. Goodness, gracious! what an awful idea!
March. Awful! perhaps it is; but she likes it. I’ve seen them on the rocks as chipper as a pair of blackbirds; her eyes glistening and her cheeks rosy, while Sept. was pouring all sorts of soft speeches into her ears.
Mrs. G. Heavens and airth! this won’t do! I’ll tell your father of this the minit he comes home.
March. No you won’t, Mother Gale. Hush, here’s the young lady now.
(Enter Kate, R.)
Kate. May I come in?
Mrs. G. To be sure you may, and welcome (places a chair, R., and dusts it with her apron). It’s awful dirty here.
Kate (sits). Dirt? I have not yet been able to discover a particle in the house. It’s a miracle of cleanliness. Well, March, what are you doing?
March. Oh! fixin’ up the lines a little.