ng to the cottage] Mother: come along: youre
wanted.

[Mrs Warren appears on the threshold, and is immediately transfixed,
recognizing the clergyman.]

VIVIE [continuing] Let me introduce--

MRS WARREN [swooping on the Reverend Samuel] Why it's Sam Gardner, gone
into the Church! Well, I never! Don't you know us, Sam? This is George
Crofts, as large as life and twice as natural. Don't you remember me?

REV. S. [very red] I really--er--

MRS WARREN. Of course you do. Why, I have a whole album of your letters
still: I came across them only the other day.

REV. S. [miserably confused] Miss Vavasour, I believe.

MRS WARREN [correcting him quickly in a loud whisper] Tch! Nonsense! Mrs
Warren: don't you see my daughter there?

ACT II

[Inside the cottage after nightfall. Looking eastward from within
instead of westward from without, the latticed window, with its curtains
drawn, is now seen in the middle of the front wall of the cottage, with
the porch door to the left of it. In the left-hand side wall is the door
leading to the kitchen. Farther back against the same wall is a dresser
with a candle and matches on it, and Frank's rifle standing beside them,
with the barrel resting in the plate-rack. In the centre a table stands
with a lighted lamp on it. Vivie's books and writing materials are on a
table to the right of the window, against the wall. The fireplace is on
the right, with a settle: there is no fire. Two of the chairs are set
right and left of the table.]

[The cottage door opens, shewing a fine starlit night without; and Mrs
Warren, her shoulders wrapped in a shawl borrowed from Vivie, enters,
followed by Frank, who throws his cap on the window seat. She has had
enough of walking, and gives a gasp of relief as she unpins her hat;
takes it off; sticks the pin through the crown; and puts it on the
table.]

MRS WARREN. O Lord! I don't know which is the worst of the country, the
walking or the sitting at home with nothing to do. I could do with a
whisky and soda now very well, if only they had such a things in this
place.

FRANK. Perhaps Vivie's got some.

MRS WARREN. Nonsense! What would a young girl like her be doing with
such things! Never mind: it don't matter. I wonder how she passes her
time here! I'd a good deal rather be in Vienna.

FRANK. Let me take you there. [He helps her to take off her shawl,
gallantly giving her shoulders a very perceptible squeeze as he does
so].

MRS WARREN.