BELL: Nay! not that bed-- Eliza’s bed! The old witch lay in wait For me ... and now she has me! Well, what odds? Jim called me witch: and the old spaewife and I Should be the doose bedfellows, after all. Early to bed and early to rise ... I’ve never Turned in, while I could wink an eye, before: I’ve always sat late ... And I’d sit it out Now ... But I’m dizzy ... And that old witch, Eliza-- I little guessed she’d play this cantrip on me: But what a jest--Jerusalem, what a jest! She must be chuckling, thinking how she’s done me: And I could laugh, if it wasn’t for the pain ... It doesn’t do to rattle broken ribs-- But I could die of laughing, split my sides, If they weren’t split already. Yet my clapper Keeps wagging: and I’m my own passing-bell-- They knew, who named me ... Talking to gain time ... It’s running out so quick ... And mum’s the word: I mustn’t rouse her ... She sleeps couthily, Free of the coil of cumber and trouble ... I never Looked on a lonelier face ... The flames ... the flames ... They’re roaring to the stars ... roaring ... roaring ... The heather’s all turned gold ... and golden showers-- Izles and flying embers and falling stars ... Great flakes of fire ... They’ve set the world alow ... It’s all about me ... blood-red in my eyes ... I’m burning ... What have I to do with worms! Burning ... burning ... burning ... (_Her voice sinks to a low moaning, which goes on for some time, then stops abruptly. After a while, JUDITH comes into the living-room, fills a basin of water from a bucket, and carries it into the other room. She returns with BELL’s orange-coloured kerchief, which she 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. MICHAEL: My mother here?