Jane. Yes, miss. Your pa is not here, miss?
Eglantine (jumps up). No. Is it a caller?
Jane. No, miss: a letter.
Eglantine. Only a letter! oh, dear! Never any visitors; nothing but letters now, and none of them for me. I shall die, or go mad. (Sits.)
Jane. Yes, miss: your pa is a very sot man, and won’t never see no company, since he grew hard of hearing, three years ago. (Takes the flowers from vase.)
Eglantine. O Jane! how can I bear it? Life is so dull, so dull! (Sobs.)
Jane (wiping lamp-glass). Yes, miss. And think of me, miss: took into service for my voice, and obligated to holler at your pa all day long. Holler? Yes; yell and scream, I calls it.
Eglantine. Has nothing been heard from that aurist papa wrote to a month ago!
Jane. No, miss; not a word. Dear, dear! I shall be a dummy in six months, I’m sure. I hain’t no more voice now than a frog.