DAVID. Whit was I tellin' ye, John, about weans gettin' their ain
way if the neighbors had ears an' they lived close? Was I no'
richt?
LIZZIE (_answering for JOHN with some acerbity_). Aye, ye were
richt, feyther, nae doot; but we dinna live that close here, an'
the neighbors canna hear him at the back o' the hoose.
DAVID. Mebbe that's why ye changed Alexander into the parlor an'
gied me the bed in here when it began to get cold---
LIZZIE (_hurt_). Aw, no, feyther; I brought ye in here to be
warmer--
DAVID (_placably_). I believe ye, wumman--(_with a faint
twinkle_)--but it's turned oot luckily, has it no'?
(_DAVID waits for a reply but gets none. LIZZIE fetches needlework
from the dresser drawer and sits above table. DAVID'S face and
voice take on a more thoughtful tone._)
DAVID (_musing_). Puir wee man! If he was in here you'd no' be
letting him greet his heart oot where onybody could hear him. Wud
ye?
LIZZIE (_calmly_). Mebbe I'd no'.
JOHN. Ye ken fine ye'd no', wumman.
LIZZIE. John, thread my needle an' dinna take feyther's part
against me.
JOHN (_surprised_). I'm no'.
LIZZIE. No, I ken ye're no meanin' to, but you men are that
thrang--
(_She is interrupted by a loud squall from_ DAVID, _which he
maintains, eyes shut, chair-arms gripped, and mouth open, for
nearly half a minute, before he cuts it off abruptly and looks at
the startled couple at the table._)
LIZZIE. Mercy, feyther, whit's wrang wi' ye?
DAVID (_collectedly_). There's naethin' wrang wi' me, Lizzie,
except that I'm wantin' to tell wee Alexander a bit story--