Six Plays by Lady Florence Henrietta Fisher Darwin Part 72

DORRY. And wear my new frock what's ironed, and the beads what Miss Sims gived me.

JANE. [Looking out at the window.] I'm thinking as we shall get some snow by and bye. 'Tis come over so dark all of a sudden.

DORRY. Couldn't I go along of they, Gran'ma, and wear my new frock, and the beads, too? I never see'd them dance th' old year out yet, I haven't.

JANE. Get along with you, Dorry. 'Tis many a year afore you'll be of an age for such foolishness. And that's what I calls it, this messing about with dancing and music and I don't know what.

DORRY. Katie Sims be younger nor me and she's let to go, she is.

JANE. You bain't Katie Sims, nor she you. And if the wedding what's to-morrow isn't enough to stuff you up with nonsense, I don't know what is.

DORRY. I wish it was to-morrow now, Gran'ma, I do. Shall you put on your Sunday gown first thing, or wait till just afore we goes to church?

JANE. How your tongue do go! Take and bide quiet a bit, if you knows how.

DORRY. I shall ask Dad if I may go along of him and Miss Sims to the dance, I shall. Dad's got that kind to me since last night--he gived me a sixpence to buy sweets this morning when I hadn't asked. And won't it be nice when Miss Sims comes here to live, and when you has someone to help you in the work, Gran'ma?

JANE. Well--'tis to be hoped as 'twill be all right this time.

DORRY. This time, Gran'ma! Why, wasn't it all right when Dad was married afore, then?

JANE. [Getting the lamp from a shelf.] I don't light up as a rule till 'tis six o'clock, but I count it's a bit of snow coming as have darkened the air like.

DORRY. Gran'ma, isn't Miss Sims nice-looking, don't you think? I'd like to wear my hair like hers and have earrings a-hanging from me and a-shaking when I moves my head, I would.

JANE. [Setting the lamp on the table.] Here, fetch me the matches, do.

DORRY. [Bringing the matches.] Was my mammy nice-looking, like Miss Sims, Gran'ma?

JANE. I'm one as goes by other things nor looks--For like as not 'tis fine looks as is the undoing of most girls as has them--give me a plain face and a heart what's pure, I says, and 'tis not far out as you'll be.

DORRY. Was my mammy's heart pure, Gran'ma? [A moment's silence.

JANE lights the lamp. DORRY leans at the table, watching her.

DORRY. Was my mammy's--[A loud knock on the outside door.

JANE. Who's that come bothering round! Run and see, Dorry, there's a good child.

DORRY. It'll be Gran'ma Vashti, I daresay. She do mostly knock at the door loud with her stick.

[DORRY runs to the window and looks out.

DORRY. 'Tis her, and the snow white all upon her.

[DORRY goes to the door to open it.

JANE. [To herself.] Of all the meddlesome old women--why can't her bide till her's wanted.

[DORRY opens the door wide, and VASHTI Comes slowly in to the room, leaning on a big staff.

JANE. Well, Vashti Reed, and what brings you down from the hill to- day? 'Twould have been better had you bid at home, with the dark coming on and the snow.

DORRY. [Who has closed the door.] Sit down, Granny--there, close against the fire, do.

[VASHTI stands in the middle of the room, looking from one to another.

DORRY. Sit down, Granny, by the fire, do.

VASHTI. 'Tis in the house and out of it as I have went. And down to the pool where the ice do lie, and up on the fields where 'tis fog, And there be summat in I what drives I onward, as might the wind.

And no where may the bones of me rest this day.

JANE. If 'tis to talk your foolishness as you be come, you'd best have stopped away. Here, sit you down, Vashti Reed, and behave sensible, and maybe as I'll get you summat warm to drink presently.

DORRY. Yes, Grannie, sit you down along of we.

[VASHTI sits stiffly down by the hearth, leaning on her stick. JANE resumes her place, and DORRY puts her little stool between them.

VASHTI. And in the night when I was laid down, against the windowpane it fled a three times. A three time it fled and did beat the pane as though 'twould get in. And I up and did open the window.

And the air it ran past I, and 'twas black, with naught upon it but the smell of a shroud. So I knowed.

DORRY. What did you know, Granny?

VASHTI. [Leaning forward and warming her hands at the fire, speaking as though to herself.] Summat lost--summat lost, and what was trying to get safe away.

DORRY. Safe away? From what, Granny?

VASHTI. And there be one what walks abroad in the night time, what holds in the hand of him a stick, greater nor this staff what I holds here, and the knife to it be as long again by twice.

DORRY. O, Granny, I'll be a-feared to go across the garden after dark, I shall.

JANE. What do you want to go and put that there into the child's head for? I'd like for Steve to hear you talking of such stuff.

VASHTI. I sat me down at the table, but the victuals was as sand in the mouth, and the drink did put but coldness within I. And when the door was closed, 'twas as if one did come running round the house and did beat upon it for to be let in. Then I did go for to open it, but the place outside was full of emptiness, and 'twas they old carrion crows what did talk to I out of the storm.

JANE. How you do go on, to be sure! Why don't you speak of summat what's got some sense to it? Come, don't you know as Steve, his wedding day, 'tis to-morrow as ever is.

DORRY. 'Tis the New Year, too, Granny, as well as Dad's marriage.

VASHTI. [Suddenly.] Be this house made ready for a-marrying, then?

DORRY. Why, of course it be, Granny. Don't you see how 'tis cleaned and the new net curtains in the windows, and the bit of drugget 'gainst the door where the old one always tripped me up?

VASHTI. I see naught but what 'tis more like a burial here. So 'tis. And 'tis a burial as I've carried in my heart as I comed down from the hills.

DORRY. [Looking out of the window.] Granny, you'll be forced to bide the night along of we, 'cause the snow be falling thick, and 'twill be likely as not as you'll lose your way if you start for to go home again when 'tis snowing.

JANE. Th' old thing may as well bide the night now she be come.

Hark you, Vashti, 'twill save you the journey down to-morrow like, if you bides the night, and the chimney corner is all as you ever wants.