Part 2 (1/2)

her auld feyther all alone by the fire in anither an'--ye ken--Philosophy--

(_He ceases to speak and wipes his gla.s.ses again. JOHN, intensely troubled, tiptoes up to the door and opens it a foot. The wails of ALEXANDER can be heard m.u.f.fled by a farther door. JOHN calls off._)

JOHN. Lizzie.

(_Lizzie immediately comes into sight outside the door with a ”Shsh.”_)

JOHN. Yer feyther's greetin'.

LIZZIE (_with a touch of exasperation_). Och, I'm no heedin'!

There's another wean in there greetin' too, an' I'm no heedin'

him neither, an' he's greetin' twicet as loud as the auld yin.

JOHN (_shocked_). Ye're heartless, wumman.

LIZZIE (_with patience_). No, I'm no' heartless, John; but there's too much heart in this family, an' someone's got to use their heid.

(DAVID _cranes round the side of his chair to catch what they are saying. She stops and comes to him kindly but with womanly firmness._)

LIZZIE. I'm vexed ye should be disappointed, feyther, but ye see, don't ye--

(_A singularly piercing wail from ALEXANDER goes up. LIZZIE rushes to silence him._)

LIZZIE. Mercy! The neighbors will think we're murderin' him.

(_The door closes behind her._)

DAVID (_nodding for a s.p.a.ce as he revolves the woman's att.i.tude_).

Ye hear that, John?

JOHN. Whit?

DAVID (_with quiet irony_). She's vexed I should be disappointed.

The wumman thinks she's richt! Women always think they're richt--mebbe it's that that makes them that obstinate. (_With the ghost of a twinkle_) She's feart o' the neighbors, though.

JOHN (_stolidly_). A' women are feart o' the neighbors.

DAVID (_reverting_). Puir wee man. I telt ye he was greetin', John.

He's disappointed fine. (_Pondering_) D' ye ken whit I'm thinkin', John?

JOHN. Whit?

DAVID. I'm thinkin' he's too young to get his ain way, an' I'm too auld, an' it's a fine thocht!

JOHN. Aye?

DAVID. Aye. I never thocht of it before, but that's what it is.

He's no' come to it yet, an' I'm past it. (_Suddenly_) What's the most important thing in life, John?