Glen Aldyn Plays/Hollantide, or Jem’s Mother

Jem’s Mother.

SCENE.–A parlour with table set for tea. Fireplace at side opposite door. Candles, photographs, etc., on shelf. A sofa or settee on which lies a new hat. Lamp burning. Mrs. Fayle and Lizzie talking earnestly.

Mrs. F.: So that’s the way it is, Lizzie veen, an'’ I have net felt so cheered this long time as I am to-night. There’s something seems to have been goin’ beside me all day long whisperin’: “He will come back; he will come back”; an’ I believe well it is this everin’ itself that he will come. Have you got the Book there, Lizzie?

Lizzie: Yes, sure; an’ the key of the house door to put in it. We’ll try it again, Mrs. Fayle, before anyone comes in.

Mrs. F.: Yes, chile, yes; try it now careful an’ serious. Three times have it opened at the same place this week when we have been together, an’ I believe it an’ all is tellin’ us for to hope.

Lizzie fetches old Manx Bible, dusts it reverently, and lays it on table. With Mrs. Fayle’s hand over her eyes, she opens the Book at random, slips key in, and closes it again. They stand a moment looking at each other.

Mrs. F.: Now, Lizzie, open quick an’ see what words the head of the key is touchin’.

Lizzie opens Book half fearfully; Mrs. Fayle watching, with hands pressed over her heart.

Mrs. F. [in a low strained voice]: Well, what’s it sayin’?

Lizzie: Aw, look at that now/ Here’s them very words again: “Joy cometh in the morning.” [Putting Book aside and key in her pocket.] What better could it say for us. I believe in my heart we will see him this night itself! Sit you down now, Mrs. Fayle, an’ I’ll make a drop of tea to calm you. An’ you wont take it too much to heart if after all we still have to wait an’ hope.

Mrs. F. [wiping her eyes and sitting down]: No, no, Lizzie veen. Whatever comes we mus’ take off it. I will be patient too. It’s only you an’ me, Lizzie, that’s got any hope at all, but look how strong the feeling is in the both of us? The people is all tellin’ me for to give up hoping, an’ they’re saying that you should be giving him up too; but after all, Lizzie veen, what’s our Jem to all them wans? It’s to us, who love him, the signs come.

Lizzie: It is so, Mrs. Fayle, an’ I was wanting to tell you that I, too, have been so uplifted in my heart all this day that I was just coming over to see you.

Mrs. F.: There’s always signs in for those that will be looking for them. Think now of Jem’s old Mona bringing in a piece of iron in her mouth this morning. They say it’s terrible lucky to find a piece of old iron unexpected, an’ what for would Mona bring such a thing in her month to me? Not a piece of a stick as she does many a morning, nor even a stone for me to throw for her, the crathur, but a piece of coul iron as thick as your wriss an’ heavy, too, in her jaws. Well come then, Lizzie. I only looked in to see would you come with me.

Lizzie: Yes, I will; but I wont be able to stay, for I’ve the milking to do yet, an’ there’s two or three little kiartlins wantin’ doing in the dairy, too. [She takes sun-bonnet from peg and puts it on. They go out together. Hoptunaa boys heard in the distance as door opens.]

Same scene. Door opens and enter Kirry.

Kirry [looking around]: Are you in, Lizzie? [Coming into room, calls again and knocks on floor.] Are you theer, Lizzie? Aw, well now, an’ me come all the way from Lhergy Rennie to be disappointed like this. [Lifts cosy from tea-pot.] Tea made, too, so she can’t be far. Gone over the road to see Jem’s mother, it’s like. Them two is thick thremenjus they’re sayin’–the both of them sartain sure the poor falla will come home again. [Looks at cakes on hearth, tries one, finishes it, then another.] These is good, though. I’m hungry, too. What’s keepin’ her at all? [Takes a chair and sits down.] I may as well be takin’ ress for all, for I’m tired scandalous walking about the town an’ houlin’ on to the parcels. You’d think the people was made of elbows the way they’re knockin’ up against you when you’re thryin’ to have a look in at the shop windows. It’s terribly lonely, too, among such a sight of people. Well Lizzie is better off than me, for she have got a memory anyway. [Taking picture from shelf and looking wistfully at it, holding it out to the light.] Isn’t that the very marra of Jem! What’s this readin’ below–middlin’ small writin’, too. [Reads slowly and laboriously]: “’Tis batther to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.” Well that’s nice readin’, too. I wonder did Jem send her that in a latther one time? Dear me, it’s time I was lookin’ roun’, too, or I’ll be goin’ a leavin’ worse nor Lizzie; but the men’s sceerce thremenjus–an’ middlin’ shy, too, they’re savin’. [Walks about restlessly, sees hat lying on settle, picks it up and turns it round admiringly in her hand.] Aw, see that now. She’ve been thrimmin’ a new hat for Sunday. Tossed up middlin’ stylish at her, too! Well, now, is the girl making out that he really will come home an’ not lost at all, as they said he was? [Tries on hat.] I would like to look in the glass now to see does it suit me. Hollantide an’ all, when they’re sayin’ the man you’re to have will come and look over your shoulder in the glass. Still an’ for all it’s middlin’ serious thryin’ them things. I don’t know have I got the nerve! But it’s early yet, an’ besides there’ll not he no ill-wans goin’ about to-night when all Them Others is goin’ through the world. I’ll thry it anyhow.

Goes up to mirror and looks at herself smilingly, admiring the hat. Enter Bobby, who, seeing Kirry, tip-toes towards her and grins over her shoulder in the glass. Kirry turns round with a shriek, and hits him smartly.

Kirry: You young limb! How dare you be doin’ imperence upon me like that. I’ll tell your Daa as sure’s you’re livin’. What do you want comin’ in other people’s houses when they're out and terrifying the people!

Bobby: What do you want, Kirry Cregeen–oomin’ in other people’s houses when they’re out,–an’ eatin’ other people’s cakes?

Kirry: Don’t you be givin’ me none of your sauce now.

Tries to catch and slap him. Robby escapes each time, grinning and jeering.

Booby: Who ate the cakes, Kirry?

Kirry: How dare you say I ate the cakes.

Bobby: I didn’t say you ate the cakes, now!

Kirry: Then how dare you say I touched the cakes!

Bobby: I didn’t see you touch the cakes; I only guessed it because you were so mad. I don't spy on other people through the windows–an’ I don’t go for to thry on other people’s new hats either.

Kirry: Bobby, darlin’, be quate now. I only took wan lil teener wan jus’ to see were they keepin’ hot for Lizzie. Don’t tell on me an’ I’ll give you a sweetie when I’m down on Sunday. [Puts cover over cakes.]

Bobby: Conversation lozenges, Kirry?

Kirry: Yes, sure; lozengers with red an’ yaller pothry an’ conundrums.

Bobby: Are you keepin’ the hat hot for Lizzie, too, Kirry?

Kirry: Aw, the sakes. [Pulling off hat in confusion.] You may as well be goin’ now, Bobby.

Bobby: Give me wan of them lil cakes, Kirry, an’ I’ll not tell.

Kirry: Aw, Bobby, I don’t like for fear she’ll come in. Well, jus’ wan then. [Bobby eats and holds out his hand for more.] Well there’s two now. [He tries to snatch plate.] That’s enough, now. Give over then–you’ll have them on the flure all in a minute–there now, look at that! [Plate falls and cakes are scattered.] An’ the plate broke an’ all. [Wringing her hands.] Now what’ll we do!

Bobby [cheerfully, picking up cakes and stuffing them into his mouth with delight]: We mus’ finish them now, Kirry, for they’re terrible untidy on the flure like that. Leave the pieces of the plate an’ she’ll think they’ve been took at the cat. Quick now; here she’s comin’.

Kirry: Don’t you be tellin’ no crimes on me now, Bobby, an’ I’ll tell none on you. Mind you now!

Door opens and Lizzie comes in.

Lizzie: Oh, Kirry, have you come down to see me, an’ me gone out. Sit down for all, ’am we’ll have some tea. Well Bobby, boy, were you wanting me?

Bobby: I was jus’ bringin’ back yonder lil iron you lent Daa; there it is on the fender. [Sidles slowly towards door.]

Kirry: I was in the town, Lizzie, fetchin’ a few erran’s, an’ I thought I would give a look in to see you.

Lizzie: Right too, an’ I’m pleased shockin’ to see you. Sit down, sit down. I had just slipped put with Mrs. Fayle for a few minutes, and I wet the tea before I went out, so it’s ready. [Catching sight of broken plate on hearth.] Losh save us. what's this at all!

Kirry [looking warningly at Bobby]: It will be the cat, it’s like, that’s been doin’ havock on the table.

Lizzie: But there’s no cat in now–not since poor pussy-bogh was stole.

Kirry: There’s plenty strange cats goin’ roun’ on the houses though at this time of year.

Bobby: Deed Lizzie an’ I saw a cat in this very house–an’ a fine big wan she was too–an’ long claws on her–

Kirry: Is that Bobby’s Daa callin’? [Listening at door and shaking her fist at him behind Lizzie’s back.] You’ll catch it, Bobby, if you don’t run.

Bobby [going slowly]: Cats is middlin’ inquisitive, too. I seen that wan goin’ in an’ she was lookin’ at herself in the glass–

Kirry: If you don’t hurry, I’ll go bail your Daa will give it you, for he was complainin’ of you to a parcel of us in the street only this very everin’.

Bobby [going]: She had her claws on the hat yondhar, too, thinkin’ them wings was chickens, it’s like! Miaow! [Exit.]

Kirry: Them boys has th’ imperince of sin at them.

Lizzie: Aw, poor Bobby for all. There’s no harm in the chile, an’ no mother to be steerin’ him either. Well come now to the table, Kirry, an’ make yourself at home.

Pours out tea; the girls take their tea chatting quietly. Kirry empties her cup into saucer to study the grounds. Lizzie comes round and looks carefully at it with her.

Kirry: Are you seein’ anything, Lizzie?

Lizzie: I’m not so good as some for seein’. Still an’ for all, Kirry–look there–isn’t that a sign of some one comin’ for you? Fair, isn’t he? an’ middlin’ tall an’ talkin’ the Baarle very stylish–

Kirry [snatching the saucer and looking]: Dear me, Lizzie, how are you seein’ so clavver? Listen here now. I’ve brought an apple in my bag to see what will we make of the parings. Give me a knife now, Lizzie, an’ stan’ yon back (sheer and watch. You mus’n’t speak wan word, for you don’t know who mite be hearin’. Turn the lamp down now an’ be quate.

Sits down and slowly peels apple in one piece. Throws the peel over her shoulder, and wait; while Lizzie looks carefully at the peel on the floor.

Lizzie [slowly]: Well now, I wouldn’ thruss but it’s–

Kirry: Yes, yes! What gel?

Lizzie: Is it–a double-u?

Kirry: Yes, sure! Why not?

Lizzie: Or perhaps it might be–M.

Kirry [sharply]: Aw no, not at all. Give another look, Lizzie, an’ maybe if you gave it a lil shove with the poker–

Lizzie: No, no, that wouldn’t do at all. W, it is, though, as sure’s you’re theer.

Kirry: That’s good now [looking pleased]. W. might stand for–well for–a name like Watterson, mightn’t it? Still an’ for all there’s no sayin’! [Wistfully]: Well now, surely he’ll come forward an’ make up his mind soon now–but the mother is coorse terrible an’ detarmined he’s not to get married–she’s not want in’ no gels about–shooin’ them aiway as if they was–

Bobby [at door]: Cats!

Kirry [rushing aft him]: Are you there again, you young torment!

Bobby dodges, and goes to Lizzie.

Lizzie: Well, Bobby, what’s doin’ on you now?

Hobby: Lizzie, there’s a Mr. Wattorson in at our plaee. [Kirry looks interested.] An’ he was askin’ if Miss Cregeen was gone home from the town yet–

Kirry: Dear me, Bobby darlin’, an’ what did you say?

Bobby [to Lizzie]: I toul him I thought Miss Oregeen was gone home this hour since.

Kirry: You didn’t! How dare you, Bobby, go for to say such a thing.

Bobby [to Lizzie]: How would I be knowin’? It was Daa toul him she might be here, an’ sent me to see, as Mr. Watterson would be willin’ to offer her a lift home–if the car would be empty at him.

Lizzie: Was that about the car being empty put in your message, Bobby?

Kirry: I’ll be boun’ it wasn’t. Look here, Bobby darlin’–

Bobby: My word, isn’t she gettin’ tandhar with her “Bobby darlin’”! A lil bit ago it was “Bobby, you limb,” or “Bobby, you scum of the earth.”

Kirry: Be quate now an’ listen. Tell you Mr. Watterson where I am, an’ maybe Lizzie will be askin’ him to come in an’ see her.

Lizzie: Yes, sure–though it’s a poor place for him to be comin’ in. [Takes apron and dusts chair, sets a clean cup on table, etc.] Tell him to come, an’ welcome.

Bobby: Aw well, he’ll be a quile yet, for he was gettin’ a shoe put on that classy mare he drives, an’ he an’ Daa was havin’ a cooish an’ a smook at our house wheer there’s no women-folk to be scutchin’ roun’ an’ puttin’ things away, an’ talkin’ so foolish that no one can get a word in.

Kirry: Go quick now, Bobby, that’s a lamb.

Bobby: Lamb now, is it? My stars it will be “my lil cherubim” soon–queers them wings of Lizzies that I’ll put them on before the glass to see will they suit me?

Kirry: Gave over now, or I’ll suit you with a pair of goose-wings. Go on now an’ toll him quickly for [to Lizzie] there’ll be a power of people on the road to-night, an’ some of these wans is so boul they would be askin’ him to give them a lif’ whether he would or no.

Lizzie: Go on now, Bobby, an’ here’s a penny for you.

Bobby: Thank you, Lizzie; you’ve always got a kind word for a poor man–

Kirry: Man!

Bobby: Or a pussy cat [going as Kirry pretends to chase him.] Poor pussy-bogh! Miaow! [Exit.]

Kirry: Now, Lizzie, what was I tell in’ you? M. indeed! No indeed. W. is a far more stylisher latther. Is my skirt right, Lizzie? [Turns round, arranges her blouse, etc.]

Lizzie: Who Watterson will he be, Kirry? Yes, sure, your skirt is right enough. You’ve a way with you that makes all your things look right, Kirry. Sit down again an’ let me put your hair nice, too. These fash’nable hats is terrible crushin’ for the hair. [Kirry sits tapping her foot restlessly; Lizzie pulls and puffs out her hair.] Who Watterson, I was sayin’, Kirry?

Kirry: His people was from Crosby, I believe, but he was goin’ a rarin’ in the Colonies somewheer–Australia or Van Dieman’s Land, or some of these places, an’ came in to a nice bit of money they’re sayin’. Any way he bought the Lherghy Glass jus’ alongside of our place, an’ has been livin’ there with his mother this six months or more.

Lizzie [stepping back to look at effect]: Now go and look at yourself in the glass, Kirry veen.

Kirry [looking at herself well-pleased, then turning back to Lizzie]: There’s another apple in the bag there, Lizzie. Are you goin’ to have a try for yourself?

Lizzie: No, no, I’m not. There’s only wan letter in the alphabet that I would be seein’ however the peel might fall, an’ I never want to see another.

Kirry: It’s like poor Jem will never come back now, Lizzie bogh, an’ the people is all sayin’ it’s a pity you should be spendin’ the time waitin’ for him still.

Lizzie [quietly]: He will come, back yet, Kirry. His mother is sure he will, an’ so am I.

Kirry: The both of you is obstinate terrible, an’ th’ oul woman is detarmined too. I don’t know indeed what makes you both take such a notion, with the name on the list an’ the story toul in the papers an’ all.

Lizzie: Well, Kirry, look at the good boy Jem always was to his mother–never leaving her an’ hour without tellin’ her where he was going, that she would not be onaisy–an’ if anything had come on him, wouldn’t he have come back for to tell her?

Kirry: Well, Lizzie, you may be right. They’re sayin’ there's never a day passes but she’s goin’ wanderin’ along the roads at the beginning of the night to see will she meet him.

Lizzie: She do so. Every night, wet or dry, an’ I’m goin’ after her times to meet her an’ bring her home, for she is not noticin how the time passes, an’ if she has been out only ten minutes you can easy satisfy her that the night is near over, an’ persuade her to come back an’ put the kettle on for him. An’ then we’re persuadin’ her to take a lil lie down, an’ that way we’re gettin’ her to sleep through the night.

A low knock heard.

Kirry: That’ll be her now it’s like.

Lizzie goes out and returns with Mrs. Fayle, who puts her hand over her eyes, dazed with the light.

Lizzie: Come in, Mrs. Fayle. You’ll remember Kirry Cregeen that used to be livin’ down here?

Mrs. Fayle gives a little old-fashioned curtsey, with her white handkerchief folded in her hand.

Mrs. F.: Yes, sure, an’ how are you keepin’ Miss Cregeen?

Kirry: Nicely, thank you, Mrs. Fayle, an’ how’s yourself this long time?

Mrs. F.: Well enough, well enough, thank you, an’ I’m not mindin’ the coul an’ I’m not mindin’ the heat, for when we’re wonderin’ in the mornin’–will he come this everin’–an’ in th’ everin’–will he come in th’ mornin’–the days is much alike. Are you ready, Lizzie veen?

Lizzie: Aw, sit a lil while Mrs. Fayle, dear. Sure Kirry here is tired, for she’s had a long thramp from Lherghy Rennie over. Stop an’ take ress for a bit now, an’ then we’ll take her a piece of the road home on our way to meet Jem.

Kirry [hastily]: Never mind me at all. I’ll do all right an’ wait here by the fire a bit.

Mrs. F.: Well, well girls. Don’t let me be hinderin’, but you wont keep me too long, will you? [Sitting down and following Lizzie about with her eyes, as she sets a cup of tea before her, then stirring it absently and looking at Kirry.] You see, Miss Cregeen, we are thinkin’ my son Jem may come home any time now–this very night he may.

Lizzie takes milkcan and goes out.

Kirry: Yes, sure, so Lizzie was tellin’ me. [A pause.] But they’re sayin’ the ship an’ all was lost, Mrs. Fayle.

Mrs. F.: An’ if she was lost, the crathur, there was men saved in the boats.

Kirry [sadly]: There was men lost too, Mrs. Fayle.

Mrs. F.: Aye, the sowles! But look at our Jem the boy he was. No wather in the sea could drown him, an’ wouldn’t he be certain to be picked up at last?

Kirry: He might, too. P’raps by some outlandish crew that was goin’ foreign, an’ be taken roun’ the worl’ with them. Or he might have lost his memory as some of them does.

Mrs. F.: No, no, our Jem had the memory of a horse.

Kirry: But he might have been ill in his mind, too, an’ the memory gone at him. So there’s no sayin’–he may come yet for all. Still he's been gone a long time now, Mrs. Fayle.

Mrs. F.: Over a year now–but I’m not losin’ heart–no, no. Listen here now, an’ I will tell you somethin’. At Hollantide night last year I was out there at th’ oul Cabbal in the little everin’, an’ I was seein’ all the people that was passin’ from the earth–thousan’s of them, oul an’ young, an’ lil childher, an’ the great hosts of warriors an’ haroes that were sweepin’ from the gray coul sea in the Nor’s to the warm blue oceans of the Sou’s. An’ every wan as they passed turned and looked at me, an’ my Jem was not among them. This night again have I seen them–thousan’s an’ thousan’s of them with their sores an’ their sins cleansed an’ healed with the terrible pains they had borne–an’ I tell you they all turned an’ looked at me, but my Jem was not among them. [Breaks down exhausted.]

Kirry [gently laying a hand on her]: May God bring him safe home to you after all!

Mrs. F. [rising]: No fear, no fear. But I must be goin’ home now just to see is all ready for him an’ tell our oul man to put an’ air of fire in the parlour for him, for the night is coul.

Kirry goes out with her to the door. Returns and begins siding the tea things, thoughtfully. Knock heard. Kirry looks up. Enter Watterson.

Kirry: Good everin’, Mr. Watterson. You will be wantin’ to see Miss Lace, no doubt. She’s gone out, but she’ll be in just now, if it wouldn’t be askin’ too much for you to sit down and wait a lil while.

Watterson: Well, it is nice to find you by yourself for once.

Kirry: Aw, well now. Was it me you were wantin’ for anything? I’m afraid I must not stay now. P’raps you can be givin’ a sight in at our place tomorrow when I’ll be at home.

Hurriedly making for her parcels. Watterson tries to take them from her. Parcels are spilled, and picked up with laughter and confusion.

Watterson: As I was saying, it is nice to find you by yourself, for there is generally such a pack around you, and you are so busy that you never have time for a word with a poor fellow like me.

Kirry: Aw, now, don’t be makin’ fun of me. Surely you wouldn’t have me always dandherin’ roun’ with a pothry book.

Watterson: Not much fear–for what with the cows an’ the children, and the goats and the hens and the meg-lambs, I never get the chance for a word. Well, now, that I came to ask was, would you drive home with me this evening?

Kirry [shyly]: Aw, well now, thank you very kindly for askin’ me; it will be a real treat, instead of the long walk with all them weary parcels.

Enter Lizzie. Hoptunaa Boys heard as door opens.

Lizzie: Here’s the Hoptunaa Boys–Bobby an’ all. Oh, is this your friend, Kirry? He’s kindly welcome.

Shakes hands with Watterson. Hoptunaa Boys come in with their cabbage-bons in their Lands, and sing their stave in Manx. Lizzie gives them “pieces,” and they go out, singing.

Lizzie [calling after them]: Good-night, boys. [To Watterson]: I must ask you to excuse me now, as I promised to go to Mrs. Fayle, but sit down an’ make yourselves at home, an’ I’ll be back again presently. [Exit.]

Kirry: Deed it’s time I was takin’ the road home, too.

Rising and beginning to pin on hat.

Watterson: What’s your hurry, Miss Cregeen? I was just thinking how nice it was to be sitting by the fire with a nice girl looking as if she was the mistress of the house.

Kirry [lays her hat down and pokes fire]: Well, you see I promised our wans that we’d bake the soddag valloo to-night.

Watterson: What’s that at all, Miss Cregeen?

Kirry: Are you Manx an’ navver heard of the soddag valloo–the dumb-cake?

Watterson: Manx I am–though my father was a Scotchman. But you see I was rared in the Colonies, and mother is not one to be talking of things much.

Kirry: Well, you see the soddag valloo is a surt of a bonag they’re makin’ at Hollantide of flour an’ wather, an’ it’s goin’ a bakin’ on the hearth. Then each of the girls must take a piece an’ eat it walkin’ backwards to her bed, navver sayin’ wan word.

Watterson: What then, Kirry?

Kirry: Kirry sounds pretty, the saf’ way you say it; but still an’ for all I don’t know that you have any right to be callin’ it to me.

Watterson: Right enough, Kirry; an’ us such near neighbours. Dear me the time we have together is far too short to be going all the length of “Miss Cregeen” all the time.

Kirry: Your mother might be blamin’ me if it come to her ears that you were callin’ me Kirry.

Watterson. No fear–what is it Bobby’s father says–she’ll get lave. Well, what happens then, Kirry, when the pieces are all eaten?

Kirry: Why, they dream, of course, of–well–of somebody.

Watterson: Oh, is it just somebody? Dear me, I could dream of somebody easy enough without any sodday valloo. Isn’t it some particular somebody, Kirry veen?

Kirry: Well they’re sayin’–but I’m not mindin’ such capers–but they’re sayin’–. Aw, listen! listen! [getting up hastily and going to door. Voices and talking heard.] That’s Jem Fayle’s voice, as sure as I am standin’ here, an’ Lizzie an’ his mother with him. They’ve brought him back for all!

Enter Jem with his Mother and Lizzie. Jem and his Mother hand in hand, facing the audience.

Kirry: Well, Jem! Is it yourself that’s in after all?

Jem: Aye, aye, myself it is an’ no other that I know of! My word how homely it was to hear the Hoptunaa Boys as I came over the hill. [Lizzie brings chair forward and girls place Mrs. Fayle in it.] That’s right, girls. Let her sit a bit an’ then we’ll be takin’ the road home to Daa an’ the rest. [To Mrs. Fayle]: You’ll be all right now, Mammy, an’ you’ll be takin’ ress these coul nights, sittin’ by the fire with your bit of knittin’, an Daa with his pipe on the other side, all comfortable.

Kirry: It’s like Jem will be stoppin’ home now?

Mrs. F.: Yes, yes; I hope well he will, for Daa an’ me is gettin’ up in years now, an’ he will be able to take the mill off our hands. You’ll be fine an’ glad to settle down, wont you, Jem boy?

Jem: I will so. But not just yet Mammy, for there’s work to be done first, an’ there’s the boys out yonder callin’ for help to do it. An’ there's Mothers an’ Sweethearts waitin’ for them to come home, too,–the way you an’ Lizzie have been waitin’ for me. [Looking round.] Where is my girl now? [drawing Lizzie forward.] I’ll tell you what we’ll do Mammy. Lizzie an’ me will get married at once now, an’ then you’ll be havin’ your home together, an’ you’ll keep each other in heart talkin’ of the boy that came back when he was lost, an’ will come back with other Mother’s boys when the war is over.

Mrs. F.: Well, well boy! I’ve got you safe now for a bit anyway, an’ if it’s your duty will be callin’ you away again, it was for to do your duty that I rared you, so I’m not losin’ heart, no, no! An’ as for Lizzie here, if I was to walk the world over–from the Calf to the Point of Ayre–I would not find a sweeter nor a more faithfuller daughter than the girl my Jem has chose for to be his wife.