'
There is a moment of pleased confusion.
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Really, them sodgers!'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'The kilties is the worst!'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'I'm sure,' heartily, 'we don't grudge you your treats,
Mrs. Dowey; and sorry we are that this is the end.'
DOWEY. 'Yes, it's the end,' with a troubled look at his old lady; 'I
must be off in ten minutes.'
The little soul is too gallant to break down in company. She hurries
into the pantry and shuts the door.
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Poor thing! But we must run, for you'll be having some
last words to say to her.'
DOWEY. 'I kept her out long on purpose so as to have less time to say
them in.'
He more than half wishes that he could make a bolt to a public-house.
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'It's the best way.' In the important affairs of life
there is not much that any one can teach a charwoman. 'Just a mere
nothing, to wish you well, Mr. Dowey.'
All three present him with the cigarettes.
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'A scraping, as one might say.'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'The heart,' enigmatically, 'is warm though it may
not be gold-tipped.
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