"I saw Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the day, and Julius Caesar at night!" John answered. "Is my Uncle Matthew unconscious?"
"No. He has all his senses about him. He knows well he's dying. Did he never speak to you about that?"
John shook his head. "I couldn't bear it if he did. Does he mind, d'you think?"
"No, he does not. Why should he mind? It's us that's left behind that's to be pitied, not them that goes. I can't make out the people of these days, the way they pity the dead and dying, when it's the living's to be pitied. Did you like the plays, John?"
John roused himself to answer. "Aye," he said, "they were grand. What happened when he took bad?"
"We had just had our supper, and he started to go up the stairs, and all of a sudden he called out for your ma, and we both ran to him together, her and me, and the look on his face frightened me. I didn't stop to hear what was wrong. I went off to fetch Dr. Dobbs as quick as I could move. I never saw Julius Caesar myself, but I mind well the time I saw Romeo and Juliet. It was an awful long time ago, when the oul' Theatre Royal ... not this one, but the one before it, that was burnt down ... and we saw Romeo and Juliet. That's a tremendous piece, John! It gripped a hold of my heart, I can tell you, and I came away from the theatre with the tears streaming down my face. I always was a soft one, anyway. That poor young boy and his lovely wee girl tormented and tortured by people that was older nor them, but hadn't half the sense! It grips you, that play!"
"Aye," said John.
"You'll hardly believe me, John, but the play was so real to me that when they talked about getting married, I said to myself I'd go and see the wedding. I did by my troth!"
"Eh?" said John abstractedly.
"I was talking about the play!..."