[Covers up her head and cries.
Mítritch (listening). Really they're up to some villainy, blow them to shivers! Oh, these women are vile creatures! One can't say much for men either; but women!... They are like wild beasts, and stick at nothing!
Nan (rising). Daddy; I say, daddy!
Mítritch. Well, what now?
Nan. The other day a traveller stayed the night; he said that when an infant died its soul goes up straight to heaven. Is that true?
Mítritch. Who can tell? I suppose so. Well?
Nan. Oh, it would be best if I died too.
[Whimpers.
Mítritch. Then you'd be off the list!
Nan. Up to ten one's an infant, and maybe one's soul would go to God. Else one's sure to go to the bad!