Judith, you’re ready?
Jim:
Let the lass bide, and sup with us. I’ll warrant
She’ll not say nay: she’s a peckish look, as though
She’d tasted no singing-hinnies this long while back.
Mother, another cup. Draw up your chairs.
We’ve not a wedding-party every day
At Krindlesyke. I’m ravenous as a squab,
When someone’s potted dad and mammy crow.
So sit down, Phœbe, before I clear the board.
Phœbe:
Judith, it’s time we were getting home.
Judith:
Home, lass?
I’ve got no home: I’ve long been homeless: I ...
Phœbe:
That much he told me about you: he spoke the truth
So far, at least: but I have still a home,
My mother will be glad to see me back—
Ay, more than glad: she was loth to let me go;
Though, trusting Jim, as she trusted everyone,
She said but little: and she’ll welcome you,
If only for your baby’s sake. She’s just
A child, with children. Unless you are too proud ...
Nay! But I see you’ll come. We’ll live and work,
And tend the bairn, as sisters, we who care.
Come, Judith.
(She throws the door wide and goes out, without looking back. Jim steps forward to stay her, but halts, bewildered, on the threshold, and stands gazing after her.)