THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. No, Bennet, oh no! I should leave them
up. Very thoughtful of you, indeed.

BENNET. It seemed to me one ought to leave no stone unturned. [He
returns to his labours in the bedroom.]

THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL [after a pause]. I do hope she'll LIKE
the Bennets.

THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I think she will--after a time, when she
is used to them.

THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. I am so anxious it should turn out well.

THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. I feel sure she's a good woman. Vernon
would never have fallen in love with her if she hadn't been good.
[They take each other's hand, and sit side by side, as before, upon
the settee. The twilight has faded: only the faint firelight
remains, surrounded by shadows.] Do you remember, when he was a
little mite, how he loved to play with your hair? [The younger Miss
Wetherell laughs.] I always envied you your hair.

THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. He was so fond of us both. Do you
remember when he was recovering from the measles, his crying for us
to bath him instead of Mrs. Bennet? I have always reproached myself
that we refused.

THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. He was such a big boy for his age.