(The child has taken the bag of nails from Reuben, and hands them to him, one by one, as he drives them in. One of the nails pierces the child’s palm. He bows his head over it.)
Carpenter.—
Why, there, there, there! You’ve done it now!
Reuben, ’twas your fault to allow
A little child like him to play
With anything so sharp as they!
(Mary comes forward and kneels by the child’s side. She takes his hand and tries to staunch the blood)
Has it gone far?
Mary.—
The wound is deep.