MRS. ROBERTS. Yes, M'm.
ENID. It is his doing, that they don't come to an agreement. Now is n't it, Annie?
MRS. ROBERTS. [Softly, with her eyes on ENID, and moving the fingers of one hand continually on her breast.] They do say that your father, M'm——
ENID. My father's getting an old man, and you know what old men are.
MRS. ROBERTS. I am sorry, M'm.
ENID. [More softly.] I don't expect you to feel sorry, Annie. I know it's his fault as well as Roberts's.
MRS. ROBERTS. I'm sorry for any one that gets old, M'm; it 's dreadful to get old, and Mr. Anthony was such a fine old man, I always used to think.
ENID. [Impulsively.] He always liked you, don't you remember? Look here, Annie, what can I do? I do so want to know. You don't get what you ought to have. [Going to the fire, she takes the kettle off, and looks for coals.] And you're so naughty sending back the soup and things.
MRS. ROBERTS. [With a faint smile.] Yes, M'm?
ENID. [Resentfully.] Why, you have n't even got coals?