The Eldest Daughter. We cannot manage to shut it quite.
The Uncle. It is because of the damp. Let us all push together. There must be something in the way.
The Father. The carpenter will set it right to-morrow.
The Grandfather. Is the carpenter coming to-morrow?
The Daughter. Yes, grandfather; he is coming to do some work in the cellar.
The Grandfather. He will make a noise in the house.
The Daughter. I will tell him to work quietly. [Suddenly the sound of a scythe being sharpened is heard outside.]
The Grandfather [with a shudder]. Oh!
The Uncle. What is that?
The Daughter. I don't quite know; I think it is the gardener. I cannot quite see; he is in the shadow of the house.