MRS. DUDGEON (to herself, thinking of her husband). Thief!
Thief!! (She shakes herself angrily out of the chair; throws
back the shawl from her head; and sets to work to prepare the
room for the reading of the will, beginning by replacing
Anderson's chair against the wall, and pushing back her own to
the window. Then she calls, in her hard, driving, wrathful way)
Christy. (No answer: he is fast asleep.) Christy. (She shakes him
roughly.) Get up out of that; and be ashamed of yourself--
sleeping, and your father dead! (She returns to the table; puts
the candle on the mantelshelf; and takes from the table drawer a
red table cloth which she spreads.)

CHRISTY (rising reluctantly). Well, do you suppose we are never
going to sleep until we are out of mourning?

MRS. DUDGEON. I want none of your sulks. Here: help me to set
this table. (They place the table in the middle of the room, with
Christy's end towards the fireplace and Mrs. Dudgeon's towards
the sofa. Christy drops the table as soon as possible, and goes
to the fire, leaving his mother to make the final adjustments of
its position.) We shall have the minister back here with the
lawyer and all the family to read the will before you have done
toasting yourself. Go and wake that girl; and then light the
stove in the shed: you can't have your breakfast here. And mind
you wash yourself, and make yourself fit to receive the company.
(She punctuates these orders by going to the cupboard; unlocking
it; and producing a decanter of wine, which has no doubt stood
there untouched since the last state occasion in the family, and
some glasses, which she sets on the table. Also two green ware