EZRA: So Jim’s back: And has slipped by his old dad without a word? I caught no footfall, though once I’d hear an adder Slink through the bent. I’m deafer than an adder-- Deaf as the stone-wall Johnny Looney built Around the frog that worried him with croaking. I couldn’t hear the curlew--not a note. But I forget my manners. Jim, you dog, To go and wed, and never tell your dad! I thought ’twas swedes you were after: and, by gox! It’s safer fetching turnips than a wife. But, welcome home! Is this the bonnie bride? You’re welcome, daughter, home to Krindlesyke. (_Feeling her face._) But, wife, it’s Judith, after all! I kenned That Judith was the lucky lass. You said ’Twas somebody else: I cannot mind the name-- Some fly-by-the-sky, outlandish name: but I Was right, you see. Though I be blind and deaf, I’m not so dull as some folk think. There’s others Are getting on in years, forby old Ezra. Though some have ears to hear the churchyard worms Stirring beneath the mould, and think it time That he was straked and chested, the old dobby Is not a corpse yet: and it well may happen He’ll not be the first at Krindlesyke to lie, Cold as a slug, with pennies on his eyes. Aiblains, the old ram’s cassen, but he’s no trake yet: And, at the worst, he’ll be no braxy carcase When he’s cold mutton. Ay, I’m losing grip; But I’ve still got a kind of hold on life; And a young wench in the house makes all the difference. We’ve hardly blown the froth off, and smacked our lips, Before we’ve reached the bottom of the pot: Yet the last may prove the tastiest drop, who kens? You’re welcome, daughter. (_His hand, travelling over her shoulder, touches the child._) Ah, a brat--Jim’s bairn! He hasn’t lost much time, has Jim, the dog! Come, let me take it, daughter. I’ve never held A grandchild in my arms. Six sons I’ve had, But not one’s made me granddad, to my knowledge: And all the hoggerels have turned lowpy-dyke, And scrambled, follow-my-leader, over the crag’s edge, But Jim, your husband: and not for me to say, Before his wife, that he’s the draft of the flock. Give me the baby: I’ll not let it fall: I’ve always had a way with bairns, and women. It’s not for naught I’ve tended ewes and lambs, This sixty-year. (_He snatches the baby from JUDITH, before she realizes what he is doing, and hobbles away with it to the high-backed settle by the fire, out of sight. Before JUDITH can move to follow him, steps are heard on the threshold._) ELIZA: Ah, God: they’re at the door! _As she speaks, JIM and PHŒBE BARRASFORD enter, talking and laughing. JUDITH ELLERSHAW shrinks into the shadow behind the door, while they come between her and the settle on which EZRA is nursing the baby unseen. ELIZA stands dazed in the middle of the room._