sna thinkin' o' yer deein', feyther--only--it's no
guid for a bairn--
DAVID. Where's the harm in my giein' him a bit story before he
gangs tae his bed?
LIZZIE. I'm no sayin' there's ony harm in it this yinst, feyther;
but it's no richt to gae on nicht after nicht wi' never a break--
DAVID. Whit wey is it no richt if there's nae harm in it?
LIZZIE. It's giein' in to the wean.
DAVID. Whit wey should ye no' gie in to him if there's nae harm
in it?
LIZZIE (_keeping her patience with difficulty_). Because it gets
him into the habit.
DAVID. But why should he no' get into the habit if there's nae
harm in it?
(_John at the table chuckles. Lizzie gives him a look, but he
meets it not._)
LIZZIE. Really, feyther, ye micht be a wean yerself, ye're that
persistent.
DAVID. No, Lizzie, I'm no' persistent, I'm reasoning wi' ye. Ye
said there was nae harm in my tellin' him a bit story, an' now ye
say I'm not to because it'll get him into the habit; an' what I'm
askin' ye is, where's the harm o' his gettin' into the habit if
there's nae harm in it?
LIZZIE. Oh, aye; ye can be gey clever, twistin' the words in my
mouth, feyther; but richt is richt, an' wrang's wrang, for all
yer cleverness.
DAVID (_earnestly_). I'm no bein' clever ava, Lizzie,--no' the
noo,--I'm just tryin' to make ye see that, if ye admit there's
nae harm in a thing, ye canna say there's ony harm in it, an'
(_pathetically_) I'm wantin' to tell wee Alexander a bit story
before he gangs to his bed.
JOHN (_aside to her_). Och, wumman--
LIZZIE. T'ts, John; ye'd gie in tae onybody if they were just
persistent enough.
JOHN. He's an auld man.
LIZZIE (_really exasperated_). I ken fine he's an auld man, John,
and ye're a young yin, an' Alexander's gaein' to be anither, an'
I'm a lone wumman among the lot o' ye, but I'm no' gaein' to gie
in to--
JOHN (_bringing a fresh mind to bear upon the argument_). Efter a',
Lizzie, there's nae harm--
LIZZIE (_almost with a scream of anger_). Och, now you've stairted,
have you? Harm. Harm. Harm. You're talkin' about harm, and I'm
talking about richt an' wrang. You'd see your son grow up a
drunken keelie, an' mebbe a thief an' a murderer, so long as you
could say there was nae harm in it.
DAVID (_expostulating with some cause_). But I cudna say there was
nae harm in that, Lizzie, an' I wudna. Only when there's nae
harm--
LIZZIE. Och. (_Exits, calling off to the cause of the trouble._)
Are ye i
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