MRS. DUDGEON (raising her voice). Let her hear me. People who
fear God don't fear to give the devil's work its right name.
(Christy, soullessly indifferent to the strife of Good and Evil,
stares at the fire, warming himself.) Well, how long are you
going to stare there like a stuck pig? What news have you for me?

CHRISTY (taking off his hat and shawl and going to the rack to
hang them up). The minister is to break the news to you. He'll be
here presently.

MRS. DUDGEON. Break what news?

CHRISTY (standing on tiptoe, from boyish habit, to hang his hat
up, though he is quite tall enough to reach the peg, and speaking
with callous placidity, considering the nature of the
announcement). Father's dead too.

MRS. DUDGEON (stupent). Your father!

CHRISTY (sulkily, coming back to the fire and warming himself
again, attending much more to the fire than to his mother). Well,
it's not my fault. When we got to Nevinstown we found him ill in
bed. He didn't know us at first. The minister sat up with him and
sent me away. He died in the night.

MRS. DUDGEON (bursting into dry angry tears). Well, I do think
this is hard on me--very hard on me. His brother, that was a
disgrace to us all his life, gets hanged on the public gallows as
a rebel; and your father, instead of staying at home where his
duty was, with his own family, goes after him and dies, leaving