Con. Just a little way, I mean, till we get to the wide streets. You couldn't lend me an old cloak, could you?
Sus. I 'ain't got one stitch, miss, but what I stand up in—'cep' it be a hodd glove an' 'alf a pocket-'an'kercher. Nobody 'ill know you.
Con. But I oughtn't to be out dressed like this.
Sus. You've only got to turn up your skirt over your head, miss.
Con. (drawing up her skirt) I never thought of that!
Sus. Well, I never!
Con. What's the matter?
Sus. Only the whiteness o' the linin' as took my breath away, miss. It ain't no use turnin' of it up: you'll look like a lady whatever you do to hide it. But never mind: that ain't no disgrace so long as you don't look down on the rest of us. There, miss! There you are—fit for a play! Come along; I'll take care of you. Lawks! I'm as good as a man—I am!
Con. Good-bye then, Mattie.
Mat. Good-bye, miss. God bless you.