MARY. Not one minute for your sister? One little minute for your little sister? BRODIE. Minutes are precious, Mary. I have to work for all of us, and the clock is always busy. They are waiting for me even now. Help me with the dad’s chair. And then to bed, and dream happy things. And to-morrow morning I will hear your news—your good news; it must be good, you look so proud and glad. But to-night it cannot be. MARY. I hate your business—I hate all business. To think of chairs, and tables, and foot-rules, all dead and wooden—and cold pieces of money with the King’s ugly head on them; and here is your sister, your pretty sister, if you please, with something to tell, which she would not tell you for the world, and would give the world to have you guess, and you won’t?—Not you! For business! Fie, Deacon Brodie! But I’m too happy to find fault with you. BRODIE. ‘And me a Deacon,’ as the Procurator would say. MARY. No such thing, sir! I am not a bit afraid of you—nor a bit angry neither. Give me a kiss, and promise me hours and hours to-morrow morning. BRODIE. All day long to-morrow, if you like. MARY. Business or none? BRODIE. Business or none, little sister! I’ll make time, I promise you; and there’s another kiss for surety. Come along. (_They proceed to push out the chair_, _L.C._) The wine and wisdom of this evening have given me one of my headaches, and I’m in haste for bed. You’ll be good, won’t you, and see they make no noise, and let me sleep my fill to-morrow morning till I wake? MARY. Poor Will! How selfish I must have seemed! You should have told me sooner, and I wouldn’t have worried you. Come along. (_She goes out_, _pushing chair_.) SCENE IX BRODIE (_He closes_, _locks_, _and double-bolts both doors_)