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Krindlesyke by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
page 175 of 186 (94%)
throws on the fire, where it burns to a grey wisp. She then takes a
nightdress and a white mutch from a drawer in the dresser, and carries
them into the other room, where she stays for some time. The baby in
the cradle wakens, and begins to whimper till JUDITH comes out,
shutting the door behind her, and takes it in her arms._)

JUDITH:
Whisht, whisht, my canny hinny, my bonnie boy!
Your wee warm body’s good to cuddle after ...
Whisht, whisht! (_Gazing in the fire._)
First, Phœbe--and then, Bell ... Oh, Jim!

_Steps are heard on the threshold, and MICHAEL and RUTH enter, carrying
their sleeping sons, NICHOLAS, aged five, and RALPH, aged three. They
put down the children on the settle by the hearth, where they sit,
dazed and silent, sleepily rubbing their eyes._

RUTH:
Well, I’m not sorry to be home again:
My arms are fairly broken.

MICHAEL:
Ay: they’re heavy.
The hoggerel you lift up turns a sheep
Before you set it down again. Well, Judith,
You’ve had a quiet day of it, I warrant?

JUDITH (_in a low voice_):
Michael, your mother’s here.

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