Vashti. A twelve year gone by—
Dorry. A twelve year gone by, what then, Granny?
Vashti. ’Tis more’n eleven years since her wented out of the door, my child—your poor mammy. Out of the door, out of the door! And likely as not ’twill be feet first as her shall be brought in again.
Dorry. Granny, was my poor mammy, what’s dead, nice looking like Miss Sims as is going for to marry Dad, to-morrow?
Vashti. ’Twas grand as a tree in full leaf and the wind a-moving all the green of it as was your mammy, my dear.
Dorry. And did she have fine things to her, nice gowns and things, like Miss Sims, Granny?
Jane. ’Twas the looks of her and the love of finery and pleasuring what was her undoing, as ’twill be the undoing of you, too, Dorry, if you don’t take care. ’Tis she as you favours, and none of your father’s people, more’s the pity, and ’tis more thoughtful and serious as you’ll have to grow if you don’t want to come to harm. You take and go right up, and off with that frock, do you hear me?
Dorry. O, I wanted to be let to go to the dancing now I’d got it on, I did.
Jane. Dancing, there you are! Dancing and finery, ’tis all as you do think on, and ’tis plain to see what’s got working in the inside of you, Dorry. ’Tis the drop of bad blood as you has got from she what bore you. But I might as well speak to that door for all you cares. Only, hark you here, you’ll be sorry one of these days as you han’t minded me better. And then ’twill be too late.
[Steve comes down the stairs, pushes open the door and enters.