Vicar.
A great and a good cause.
Mrs. Littlewood.
But why did God take my second? He was the only one I had left, the only comfort of my old age, my only joy, the only thing I had to prevent me from seeing that my life had been wasted and it would have been better if I had never been born. I haven’t deserved that. When a horse has served me long and faithfully till he’s too old to work I have the right to send him to the knacker’s yard, but I don’t, I put him out to grass. I wouldn’t treat a dog as my Father has treated me. I’ve been cheated. You say that God will forgive us our sins, but who is going to forgive God? Not I. Never. Never!
[In a height of frenzy she rushes out into the garden. There is silence in the room.
Mrs. Wharton.
Don’t be angry with her, Vicar. She’s beside herself with grief.
Vicar.
She’ll come back. She’s like a petulant child that has been thwarted for its good. It cries and stamps, but in a little while it throws itself into its mother’s arms, and begs, all tears, for forgiveness.