Cyn. (dryly). I should thought it might have been.
Hep. Hey? What did you say, Cynthy?
Cyn. (hastily). I—I was—going to ask you about Ariel. You went over?
Hep. Yes, as soon as I made up my mind that Sammy was telling the truth I started right over and what do you think I found? Five women there ahead of me! Ain’t that terrible? Shouldn’t you think they’d have let her alone, jest gettin’ home that way, an’ she looked tired to death, though I must say she is prettier’n ever. An’ I says to her, says I——.
Samuel Sawyer (outside). Maw! Oh, maw! Be you in Miss Cynthy’s house?
Hep. (starting up). Good land! Sammy! What’s he want? (Going toward door, C.) It’s a pity a body can’t go calling without bein’ chased up by the family! (Opens door.) What do you want? No! You’re too wet to come in.
Cyn. (quickly). No, he isn’t! (Goes to door.) You come right in, Sammy. I don’t mind a little water. I’ve lived too close to it all my life to be afraid of it.
Enter Sam., C. He is about nine years old, small for his age and rather delicate looking. He is a decidedly pretty boy and in decided contrast to either mother or father. He wears raincoat and hat and rubber boots.
Hep. Take your feet right off this floor!
Sam. (uncertainly lifting first one foot then the other). How’ll I do it? Where’ll I put ’em, maw?