MICHAEL [climbs down from the top of the oven] Just look, the sun's already quite high. [Puts on his boots] She must have gone to fetch water with mother. How my head aches! I won't do it again; the devil take it! [Crosses himself before the icon, prays, and then washes his hands and face] I'll go and harness.
Enter Martha with firewood.
MARTHA. And yesterday's beggar? Has he gone?
MICHAEL. Must have gone. Can't see him.
MARTHA. Oh well, let him go. He seemed a clever chap though.
MICHAEL. He took your part!
MARTHA. What of that!
Michael puts on his coat.
MARTHA. And the tea and sugar? Did you put them away last night, eh?
MICHAEL. I thought you did.