Jamie. Well, aren't they?
Hilda [with some show of spirit]. No, they're not; and if you're so sick of sitting here, why don't you go home; I can wait. I'm not afraid.
Jamie [yawning again]. Don't be silly.
Hilda. It seems to me you're the silly one; just as though you couldn't——
Jamie [impatiently]. Well, if you think it's fun sitting here all night waiting for two soft heads that don't know enough to ache when they're in pain, you're mistaken; that's all.
Hilda [moving away from him]. I should think you'd be ashamed!
Jamie [with rising impatience]. That's right; now get mad!
Hilda. I'm not mad; so there! But—I—— [She begins to sniffle suspiciously. For some time neither speaks. The moon has waned and a strange, new light, of a sickly cast, is rising in the eastern sky. A restless bird in a tree near by pipes one nervous note; then all is silence again.]
Jamie [stretching and again yawning]. What are you crying about?
Hilda [swallowing two or three times, chokingly]. I—I—I'm not crying——