JUDITH (patronizing Essie, and arranging the cake and wine on the table
more becomingly). You must not mind if your aunt is strict with you.
She is a very good woman, and desires your good too.

ESSIE (in listless misery). Yes.

JUDITH (annoyed with Essie for her failure to be consoled and edified,
and to appreciate the kindly condescension of the remark). You are not
going to be sullen, I hope, Essie.

ESSIE. No.

JUDITH. That's a good girl! (She places a couple of chairs at the table
with their backs to the window, with a pleasant sense of being a more
thoughtful housekeeper than Mrs. Dudgeon.) Do you know any of your
father's relatives?

ESSIE. No. They wouldn't have anything to do with him: they were too
religious. Father used to talk about Dick Dudgeon; but I never saw him.

JUDITH (ostentatiously shocked). Dick Dudgeon! Essie: do you wish to be
a really respectable and grateful girl, and to make a place for
yourself here by steady good conduct?

ESSIE (very half-heartedly). Yes.

JUDITH. Then you must never mention the name of Richard Dudgeon--never
even think about him. He is a bad man.

ESSIE. What has he done?

JUDITH. You must not ask questions about him, Essie. You are too young
to know what it is to be a bad man. But he is a smuggler; and he lives
with gypsies; and he has no love for his mother and his family; and he
wrestles and plays games on Sunday instead of going to church. Never
let him into your presence, if you can help it, Essie; and try to keep
yourself and all womanhood unspotted by contact with such men.

ESSIE. Yes.

JUDITH (again displeased). I am afraid you say Yes and No without
thinking very deeply.

ESSIE. Yes. At least I mean--

JUDITH (severely). What do you mean?

ESSIE (almost crying). Only--my father was a smuggler; and-- (Someone
knocks.)

JUDITH. They are beginning to come. Now remember your aunt's
directions, Essie; and be a good girl. (Christy comes back with the
stand of stuffed birds under a glass case, and an inkstand, which he
places on the table.) Good morning, Mr. Dudgeon. Will you open the
door, please: the people have come.

CHRISTY. Good morning. (He opens the house door.)

The morning is now fairly bright and warm; and Anderson, who is the
first to enter, has left his cloak at home. He is accompanied by Lawyer
Hawkins, a brisk, middleaged man in brown riding gaiters and yellow
breeches, looking as much squire as solicitor. He and Anderson are
al