[_Mrs. Holroyd opens the door. In the silence can be heard the pulsing of the fan engine, then the driving engine chuffs rapidly: there is a shirr of brakes on the rope as it descends._ MRS. HOLROYD That's twice they've sent the chair down--I wish we could see.... Hark! GRANDMOTHER What is it? MRS. HOLROYD Yes--it's stopped at the gate. It's the doctor's. GRANDMOTHER (_coming to the door_) What, Lizzie? MRS. HOLROYD The doctor's motor. (_She listens acutely_) Dare you stop here, mother, while I run up to the top an' see? GRANDMOTHER You'd better not go, Lizzie, you'd better not. A woman's best away. MRS. HOLROYD It is unbearable to wait. GRANDMOTHER Come in an' shut the door--it's a cold that gets in your bones. (_She goes in_) MRS. HOLROYD Perhaps while he's in bed we shall have time to change him. It's an ill wind brings no good. He'll happen be a better man. GRANDMOTHER Well, you can but try. Many a woman's thought the same. MRS. HOLROYD Oh, dear, I wish somebody would come. He's never been hurt since we were married. GRANDMOTHER No, he's never had a bad accident, all the years he's been in the pit. He's been luckier than most. But everybody has it, sooner or later. MRS. HOLROYD (_shivering_) It _is_ a horrid night. GRANDMOTHER (_querulous_) Yes, come your ways in. MRS. HOLROYD Hark! [_There is a quick sound of footsteps. Blackmore comes into the light of the doorway._ BLACKMORE They're bringing him. MRS. HOLROYD (_quickly putting her hand over her breast_) What is it? BLACKMORE You can't tell anything's the matter with him--it's not marked him at all. MRS. HOLROYD Oh, what a blessing! And is it much? BLACKMORE Well-- MRS. HOLROYD What is it? BLACKMORE It's the worst. GRANDMOTHER Who is it?--What does he say? [_Mrs. Holroyd sinks on the nearest chair with a horrified expression. Blackmore pulls himself together and enters. He is very pale._ BLACKMORE I came to tell you they're bringing him home. GRANDMOTHER And you said it wasn't very bad, did you? BLACKMORE No--I said it was--as bad as it could be. MRS. HOLROYD (_rising and crossing to her mother-in-law, flings her arms round her; in a high voice_) Oh, mother, what shall we do? What shall we do? GRANDMOTHER You don't mean to say he's dead? BLACKMORE Yes. GRANDMOTHER (_staring_) God help us, and how was it? BLACKMORE Some stuff fell. GRANDMOTHER (_rocking herself and her daughter-in-law--both weeping_) Oh, God have mercy on us! Oh, God have mercy on us! Some stuff fell on him. An' he'd not even time to cry for mercy; oh, God spare him! Oh, what shall we do for comfort? To be taken straight out of his sins. Oh, Lizzie, to think he should be cut off in his wickedness! He's been a bad lad of late, he has, poor lamb. He's gone very wrong of late years, poor dear lamb, very wrong. Oh, Lizzie, think what's to become of him now! If only you'd have tried to be different with him. MRS. HOLROYD (_moaning_)