[A tapping at the door is heard, the women turn as ENID enters.
She wears a round fur cap, and a jacket of squirrel's fur. She
closes the door behind her.]

ENID. Can I come in, Annie?

MRS. ROBERTS. [Flinching.] Miss Enid! Give Mrs. Underwood a chair,
Madge!

[MADGE gives ENID the chair she has been sitting on.]

ENID. Thank you!

ENID. Are you any better?

MRS. ROBERTS. Yes, M'm; thank you, M'm.

ENID. [Looking at the sullen MADGE as though requesting her
departure.] Why did you send back the jelly? I call that really
wicked of you!

MRS. ROBERTS. Thank you, M'm, I'd no need for it.

ENID. Of course! It was Roberts's doing, wasn't it? How can he let
all this suffering go on amongst you?

MADGE. [Suddenly.] What suffering?

ENID. [Surprised.] I beg your pardon!

MADGE. Who said there was suffering?

MRS. ROBERTS. Madge!

MADGE. [Throwing her shawl over her head.] Please to let us keep
ourselves to ourselves. We don't want you coming here and spying on
us.

ENID. [Confronting her, but without rising.] I did n't speak to
you.

MADGE. [In a low, fierce voice.] Keep your kind feelings to
yourself. You think you can come amongst us, but you're mistaken.
Go back and tell the Manager that.

ENID. [Stonily.] This is not your house.

MADGE. [Turning to the door.] No, it is not my house; keep clear of
my house, Mrs. Underwood.

[She goes out. ENID taps her fingers on the table.]

MRS. ROBERTS. Please to forgive Madge Thomas, M'm; she's a bit upset
to-day.

[A pause.]

ENID. [Looking at her.] Oh, I think they're so stupid, all of them.

MRS. ROBERTS. [With a faint smile]. Yes, M'm.

ENID. Is Roberts out?

MRS. ROBERTS. Yes, M'm.

ENID. It is his doing, that they don't come to an agreement. Now is
n't it, Annie?

MRS. ROBERTS. [Softly, with her eyes on ENID, and moving the fingers
of one hand continually on her breast.] They do say that your
father, M'm----

ENID. My father's getting an old man, and you know what old men are.

MRS. ROBERTS. I am sorry, M'm.

ENID. [More softly.] I don't expect you to feel sorry, Annie. I
know it's his fault as well as Roberts's.

MRS. ROBERTS. I'm sorry for any one that gets old, M'm; it 's
dreadful to get old, and Mr. Anthony was such a fine old man, I
always used to think.

ENID. [Impulsively.] He always liked you, don't you remember? Look
here, Annie, what can I do?