EZRA: I wish he’d married Judith. Cow-eyed, you called the wench; but cows have horns, And, whiles, they use them when you least expect. ’Twould be no flighty heifer you’d to face, If she turned mankeen. But, I liked the runt. Jim might do worse. ELIZA: You liked ... But come, I’ll set Your chair outside, where you can feel the sun; And hearken to the curlew; and be the first To welcome Jim and Phœbe as man and wife. Come! EZRA: Are the curlew calling? ELIZA: Calling? Ay! And they’ve been at it all the blessed day, As on the day I came to Krindlesyke. Likely the new bride--though ’twasn’t at the time I noticed them: too heedless and new-fangled. She may be different: she may hear them now: They’re noisy enough. EZRA: I cannot catch a note: I’m getting old, and deaved as well as darkened. When I was young, I liked to hear the whaups Calling to one another down the slacks: And I could whistle, too, like any curlew. ’Twas an ancient bird wouldn’t answer my call: and now I’m ancient myself--an old, blind, doddering heron, Dozing his day out in a syke, while minnows Play tiggy round his shanks and nibble his toes; And the hawk hangs overhead. But then the blood Was hot, and I’d a relish--such a relish! Keen as a kestrel ... and now ... ELIZA: It’s Jim and Phœbe-- The music and the dazzle in their heads: And they’ll be here ... EZRA: I wish he’d married Judith: She’s none the worse for being a ruddled ewe. ELIZA: Nay, God forbid! At least, I’m spared that bildert. (_EZRA rises; and ELIZA carries out his chair, and he hobbles after her. She soon returns, and puts griddle-cakes into the oven to keep hot. Presently a step is heard on the threshold, and JUDITH ELLERSHAW stands in the doorway, a baby in her arms. ELIZA does not notice her for a few moments; then, glancing up, recognizes her with a start._) ELIZA: You, Judith Ellershaw! I thought ’twas Jim. JUDITH: You thought ’twas Jim? ELIZA: Jim and ... To think it’s you! Where’ve you sprung from? It’s long since you’ve shown face In these parts; and we’d seen the last of you, I reckoned, little dreaming--and, least of all, To-day! JUDITH: And should I be more welcome, then, On any other? ELIZA: Welcome? I hardly know. Decent folk don’t keep open house for your sort At any time. Your foot’s not dirtied that doorstone A dozen times in your life: and then, to come, To-day, of all days, just when Jim ... (_Breaks off abruptly._) JUDITH: When Jim?