MARY DOUL -- [nearly in tears.] -- It's a poor thing, God help
us, and what good'll our gray hairs be itself, if we have our
sight, the way we'll see them falling each day, and turning dirty
in the rain?

[The bell sounds nearby.]

MARTIN DOUL -- [in despair.] -- He's coming now, and we won't get
off from him at all.

MARY DOUL. Could we hide in the bit of a briar is growing at the
west butt of the church?

MARTIN DOUL. We'll try that, surely. (He listens a moment.) Let
you make haste; I hear them trampling in the wood. [They grope
over to church.]

MARY DOUL. It's the words of the young girls making a great stir
in the trees. (They find the bush.) Here's the briar on my left,
Martin; I'll go in first, I'm the big one, and I'm easy to see.

MARTIN DOUL -- [turning his head anxiously.] -- It's easy heard
you are; and will you be holding your tongue?

MARY DOUL -- [partly behind bush.] -- Come in now beside of me.
(They kneel down, still clearly visible.) Do you think they can
see us now, Martin Doul?

MARTIN DOUL. I'm thinking they can't, but I'm hard set to know;