BRODIE. You mean Ainslie? - We trust that creature too much,
Geordie.

SMITH. He's all right, Marquis. He wouldn't lay a finger on his
own mother. Why, he's no more guile in him than a set of sheep's
trotters.

[BRODIE. You think so? Then see he don't cheat you over the
dice, and give you light for loaded. See to that, George, see to
that; and you may count the Captain as bare as his last grazier.

SMITH. The Black Flag for ever! George'll trot him round to
Mother Clarke's in two twos.] How long'll you be?

BRODIE. The time to lock up and go to bed, and I'll be with you.
Can you find your way out?

SMITH. Bloom on, my Sweet William, in peaceful array. Ta-ta.


SCENE VIII

BRODIE, OLD BRODIE; to whom, MARY

MARY. O Willie, I am glad you did not go with them. I have
something to tell you. If you knew how happy I am, you would
clap your hands, Will. But come, sit you down there, and be my
good big brother, and I will kneel here and take your hand. We
must keep close to dad, and then he will feel happiness in the
air. The poor old love, if we could only tell him! But I