Kate. Here. Away out and get them purtas dug for the dinner. We're tired hearing your gabble.
Brown (retreating to door and eyeing Kate meaningly). The master was complaining again to me yesterday evening about the dinner he got. There's no mistake he likes his meat like myself, and right enough it was bad yesterday. I was chowing haws all evening to keep off the hunger.
Kate. Go on you out of this.
Brown. That's all the news this morning. (He makes a grimace at Kate and goes out into the yard.)
Mary. I can't understand this post card. (Kate goes over and looks at it along with Mary.)
"O wad that God the gift wad gie us,
To see oorselves as ithers see us."
What does that mean? "How's the uncle?" It's some cheeky person anyway—"from D.M." Who could that be?
Kate. It's not McCready, Miss, is it?
Mary. No. That's not his writing.