Smith. The Black Flag for ever! George’ll trot him round to Mother Clarke’s in two twos.] How long’ll you be?
Brodie. The time to lock up and go to bed, and I’ll be with you. Can you find your way out?
Smith. Bloom on, my Sweet William, in peaceful array. Ta-ta.
SCENE VIII
Brodie, Old Brodie; to whom, Mary.
Mary. O Willie, I am glad you did not go with them. I have something to tell you. If you knew how happy I am, you would clap your hands, Will. But come, sit you down there, and be my good big brother, and I will kneel here and take your hand. We must keep close to dad, and then he will feel happiness in the air. The poor old love, if we could only tell him! But I sometimes think his heart has gone to heaven already, and takes a part in all our joys and sorrows; and it is only his poor body that remains here, helpless and ignorant. Come, Will, sit you down, and ask me questions—or guess—that will be better, guess.
Brodie. Not to-night, Mary; not to-night. I have other fish to fry, and they won’t wait.
Mary. Not one minute for your sister? One little minute for your little sister?
Brodie. Minutes are precious, Mary. I have to work for all of us, and the clock is always busy. They are waiting for me even now. Help me with the dad’s chair. And then to bed, and dream happy things. And to-morrow morning I will hear your news—your good news; it must be good, you look so proud and glad. But to-night it cannot be.
Mary. I hate your business—I hate all business. To think of chairs, and tables, and foot-rules, all dead and wooden—and cold pieces of money with the King’s ugly head on them; and here is your sister, your pretty sister, if you please, with something to tell, which she would not tell you for the world, and would give the world to have you guess, and you won’t?—Not you! For business! Fie, Deacon Brodie! But I’m too happy to find fault with you.