Enter POLICEMAN.
Pol. What ails her? (Goes to lift her.)
Sus. Leave her alone, will you? Let her head down. Get some water.
Pol. Drunk—is she?
Sus. Hold your tongue, you brute! If she'd a satin frock on, i'stead o' this here poor cotton gownd, you'd ha' showed her t'other side o' your manners! Get away with you. You're too ugly to look at.—Mattie! Mattie! Look up, child.
Pol. She mustn't lie there.
Mat. Susan!
Pol. Come, my girl.
Sus. You keep off, I tell you! Don't touch her. She's none o' your sort. Come, Mattie, dear.—Why don't you make 'em move on?
Pol. You'd better keep a civil tongue in your head, young woman.