JIM:
Now you're talking sense. Leave me--
And married to me in a church, and all!
But, that's all over; and you're not huffed now.
There's naught in me to take a scunner at.
Yet the shying filly may prove a steady mare,
Once a man's astriddle her who'll stand no capers.
You've got to let a woman learn who's master,
Sooner or later: so, it's just as well
To get it over, once and for all. That's that.
And now, let Judith go. Come, Phoebe, lass:
I thought you'd a tender heart. Don't be too hard
On a luckless wench: but let bygones be bygones.
All's well that ends well. And what odds, my lass,
Even if the brat were mine?

PHOEBE:
Judith, you're ready?

JIM:
Let the lass bide, and sup with us. I'll warrant
She'll not say nay: she's a peckish look, as though
She'd tasted no singing-hinnies this long while back.
Mother, another cup. Draw up your chairs.
We've not a wedding-party every day
At Krindlesyke. I'm ravenous as a squab,
When someone's potted dad and mammy crow.
So sit down, Phoebe, before I clear the board.

PHOEBE:
Judith, it's time we were getting home.

JUDITH:
Home, lass?
I've got no home: I've long been homeless: I ...

PHOEBE:
That much he told me about you: he spoke the truth
So far, at least: but I have still a home,
My mother will be glad to see me back--
Ay, more than glad: she was loth to let me go;
Though, trusting Jim, as she trusted everyone,
She said but little: and she'll welcome you,
If only for your baby's sake. She's just
A child, with children. Unless you are too proud ...
Nay! But I see you'll come. We'll live and work,
And tend the bairn, as sisters, we who care.
Come, Judith.

(_She throws the door wide and goes out, without looking back. JIM steps
forward to stay her, but halts, bewildered, on the threshold, and
stands gazing after her._)

JIM:
I'm damned! Nay, lass, I bid you bide:
I'd see you straked, before I'd let you go ...
Do you hear, I bid ... The blasted wench, she's gone--
Gone! I've a mind ... If I don't hang for her ...
Just let me get my fingers ... But, I'm betwattled
Like a stoorded tup! And this is my wedding-day!

(_He stands speechless; but at length turns to JUDITH, who is gazing
after PHOEBE with an unrealizing stare._)

JIM:
Well ... anyway, you'll not desert me, Judith.
Old friends are best: and I--I always liked you.
The other lass was a lam