watchful prison faculty of adapting itself to whatever may be best
for its owner at the moment. At this moment it is obviously best
for her to look at the ground, and yet to take in the faces of MR
MARCH and MARY without their taking her face in. A moment, for all,
of considerable embarrassment.

MR MARCH. [Suddenly] We'll, here we are!

The remark attracts FAITH; she raises her eyes to his softly with a
little smile, and drops them again.

So you want to be our parlour-maid?

FAITH. Yes, please.

MR MARCH. Well, Faith can remove mountains; but--er--I don't know if she
can clear tables.

BLY. I've been tellin' Mr March and the young lady what you're capable
of. Show 'em what you can do with a plate.

FAITH takes the tray from the sideboard and begins to clear the
table, mainly by the light of nature. After a glance, MR MARCH
looks out of the window and drums his fingers on the uncleaned pane.
MR BLY goes on with his cleaning. MARY, after watching from the
hearth, goes up and touches her father's arm.

MARY. [Between him and MR BLY who is bending over his bucket, softly]
You're not watching, Dad.