MRS. DUDGEON. Oh you may well ask. (To Essie.) Go to your room,
child, and lie down since you haven't feeling enough to keep you
awake. Your history isn't fit for your own ears to hear.

ESSIE. I--

MRS. DUDGEON (peremptorily). Don't answer me, Miss; but show your
obedience by doing what I tell you. (Essie, almost in tears,
crosses the room to the door near the sofa.) And don't forget
your prayers. (Essie goes out.) She'd have gone to bed last night
just as if nothing had happened if I'd let her.

CHRISTY (phlegmatically). Well, she can't be expected to feel
Uncle Peter's death like one of the family.

MRS. DUDGEON. What are you talking about, child? Isn't she his
daughter--the punishment of his wickedness and shame? (She
assaults her chair by sitting down.)

CHRISTY (staring). Uncle Peter's daughter!

MRS. DUDGEON. Why else should she be here? D'ye think I've not
had enough trouble and care put upon me bringing up my own girls,
let alone you and your good-for-nothing brother, without having
your uncle's bastards--

CHRISTY (interrupting her with an apprehensive glance at the door
by which Essie went out). Sh! She may hear you.