WELLWYN. Ah! Well-it's all over, now! How d'you feel—eh?
Better?
MRS. MEGAN. Yes. I feels all right now.
[She sits up again on the little stool before the fire.]
WELLWYN. No shivers, and no aches; quite comfy?
MRS. MEGAN. Yes.
WELLWYN. That's a blessing. All well, now, Constable—thank you!
CONSTABLE. [Who has remained discreetly apart at the door-cordially.] First rate, sir! That's capital! [He approaches and scrutinises MRS. MEGAN.] Right as rain, eh, my girl?
MRS. MEGAN. [Shrinking a little.] Yes.
CONSTABLE. That's fine. Then I think perhaps, for 'er sake, sir, the sooner we move on and get her a change o' clothin', the better.
WELLWYN. Oh! don't bother about that—I'll send round for my daughter—we'll manage for her here.