Rose. No, you shan’t, Annie—that you shan’t!
Annie. That I shall, then—come you here, Dorry—I’ll whisper it to your ear. [Whispers it to Dorry.
Dorry. [Excitedly.] I know who ’tis—I know—’tis for Mr. Davis—for Mr. Davis! Think of that, Dad—the flower ’tis for George Davis.
Rose. O, Annie, how you could!
Steve. George—
Vashti. [Suddenly roused.] Who named George? There was but one man as was called by that name—and he courted my girl till her was faint and weary of the sound and shape of he, and so on a day when he was come—
Dorry. There’s Gran gone off on her tales again.
[Jane crosses the hearth and puts a shawl over the head of Vashti, who relapses again into sleep.
Steve. [Sitting down by Rose.] What’s this, Rose? I han’t heard tell of this afore. Be there aught a-going on with you and George, then?
Rose. No, Steve, there isn’t nothing in it much, except that George and me we walked out last Sunday in the evening like—and a two or three time before.