Mat. There wasn't an old man with him?—not an old man with a long stick?
Bill. Not with him. Daddy was on his own hook?
Mat. It must have been my father, Susan. (Sinks back on her chair.)
Sus. 'Tain't the least likely.—There, Bill! I always said you was no good! You've killed her.
Bill. Mattie! Mattie! I didn't tell him where you was.
Mat. (reviving). Run and fetch him, Bill—there's a dear! Oh! how proud I've been! If mother did say a hard word, she didn't mean it—not for long. Run, Bill, run and fetch him.
Bill. Mattie, I was a fetchin' of him, but he wouldn't trust me. And didn't he cut up crusty, and collar me tight! He's a game old cock—he is, Mattie.
Mat. (getting up and pacing about the room). Oh, Susan! my heart'll break. To think he's somewhere near and I can't get to him! Oh my side! Don't you know where he is, Bill?
Bill. He's someveres about, and blow me if I don't, find him!—a respectable old party in a white pinny, an' 'peared as if he'd go on a walkin' till he walked hisself up staudin'. A scrumptious old party!
Mat. Had he a stick, Bill?