DEB. (Laughing.) And you think that your duck will live and die in the Woodbarrow pond, aunt? (Helps Mrs. Rollitt to fold.)
MRS. R. Ah, bless un, yes, the lads they fancy that any place is better than the old home; but arter they’ve had a good look round, they know that the old home’s better than any place else. He’ll flutter about a bit maybe (looks at Deborah), but he’ll settle down in the nest ‘fore long, and the children will be running about the house (Deborah turns away a little) and making it untidy—Bless ‘em—afore I close my eyes.
DEB. (Demurely.) I wonder who he’ll marry.
MRS. R. Ah, I wonder now. (Crosses to put linen in chest of drawers.)
DEB. (r. folding linen.) There’s Polly Steddles. He walked home from church with her last Sunday. I think he’s a little sweet on Polly Steddles, don’t you, aunt?
(Mrs. R. comes l. of table r.)
MRS. R. Ah, it bean’t much good being a little sweet on a girl that size. It would take a power of sweetness to go round her. (Crosses L. with linen.).
DEB. She’s big, but then men like big women, don’t they, aunt?
MRS. R. (l.) Ah, some on ’em goes in for quantity, and some on ’em goes in for quality. The little ones, they go in for size cause they bean’t much of it themselves; and the big ones goes in for sense, cause that be what they be most in need of. (Goes R.) And Allen, he be’s medium, so he can just please himself.
DEB. And there’s Miss Dexter, that he drives over to Minehead so often. (Mrs. Rollitt goes l.) He thinks a lot of her, I know.