e and see!

GIBSON: Ah--Miss Gorodna seems to like it all, does she?

MIFFLIN: _Does_ she!

GIBSON [_a little falsely_]: None of them are happier than she is, I
suppose?

MIFFLIN: Miss Gorodna is the radiant, joyous sunshine of the whole
place!

GIBSON [_somewhat ruefully_]: Well, that's pleasant news.

[ELLA _appears from the house._]

ELLA: It's that old Ed Carter from the factory, Mr. Gibson. He heard
from Tom Riley you was expected back and he's come to call on you.

GIBSON: Tell him to come right out. [_Sees_ CARTER _beyond_ ELLA.] Come
out here, Carter! Glad to see you!

[_They shake hands._ CARTER _is unchanged as to head and
whiskers, but wears a square-cut black frock coat, or "Prince
Albert," with trousers and waistcoat of the same material; old
brown shoes, a derby hat, a blue satin four-in-hand tie._]

CARTER: How do you do, Mr. Gibson! I just thought I'd pay my respects,
as Tom Riley passed the word round the factory you was coming back.

GIBSON: Sit down, sit down!

MIFFLIN [_exuberantly_]: How do you do, Carter, how do you do! [_They
shake hands and_ MIFFLIN _pats_ CARTER _on the shoulder._] Look at him,
Mr. Gibson! Look at him! Don't you see what the New Freedom has done for
him? It's in his eye! That pride of liberty! It's in his step, in every
gesture he makes. [CARTER _strokes his whiskers._] You're old
friends--equal now, equal at last. I won't disturb you! [_Picks up his
hat, magazines, and umbrella._] He can give you more than I can, Mr.
Gibson. Good afternoon! Good afternoon!

[_He goes out through the gate._]

GIBSON: Sit down, Carter. Sit down! [_They sit._] Well, is everything
fine?

CARTER [_heartily_]: Yes, sir! It is, Mr. Gibson! Indeed it is!
[_Glances with some little pride at his clothes._] I couldn't of
expected no finer. Fact is, I never could of asked for anything like
this, even if I'd been a praying man.

GIBSON: Well, I'm glad to hear it, Carter!

CARTER: I knowed you would be, Mr. Gibson. It's all just wonderful the
way things are working out!

GIBSON: Everything is working out just right, is it?

CARTER: Oh, I don't say everything! They's bound to be some little mites
here and there. You know that yourself.

GIBSON [_grimly_]: Yes, I do! What are _your_ little mites, Carter?

CARTER: Well, what mostly gits my goat is this here Simpson's wife, Mrs.
Simpson.

GIBSON: What bothers you about Simpson's wife?

CARTER: Well, wh