The Boy. If ye don't mind I'd rather stand on 'em 'til they gets a little used to it. They been numb off an' on mos' all day.
The Woman. Soon as yer sisters come, Timmie, ye'd betther go to bed—'tis the best place to get warm.
The Boy. I can't—I got most a three-hour trip yet. I won't get home any 'fore midnight if I don't get lost, and maybe I'll get lost—I did once out there. I've got to take a box o' 'Merican Beauty roses to a place eight mile out, an' the house ain't on the car track, but nearly a mile off, the boss said. I wisht they could wait till mornin', but the orders was they just got to get the roses to-night. You see, out there they don' have no gas goin' nights when there's a moon, an' there'd ought to be a moon to-night, on'y the clouds is so thick there ain't no light gets through.
The Old Woman. There's no sthar shinin' to-night, Tim. [She shakes her head ominously. She goes to the window for the second time, opens it as before, and looks out. Shutting the window, she comes back and speaks slowly and sadly.] Niver a sthar. An' the shepherds will be havin' a hard time, Tim, like you, findin' their way.
The Boy. Shepherds? In town? What shepherds?
The Woman. She means the shepherds on Christmas Eve that wint to find the Blessed Babe, Jesus.
The Old Woman. 'Tis Christmas Eve, Timmie; ye haven't forgot that, have ye?
The Boy. You bet I ain't. I know pretty well when Christmas is comin', by the way I got to hustle, an' the size of the boxes I got to carry. Seems as if my legs an' me would like to break up pardnership. I got to work till midnight every night, an' I'm so sleepy I drop off in the cars whenever I get a seat. An' the girls is at the store so early an' late they don't get time to cook me nothin' to eat.
The Woman. Be ye hungry, Timmie?
The Boy [diffidently and looking at the floor]. No, I ain't hungry now.