SUSAN (with a bow).  Good morning, sir.

GERVASE. (looking round).  Good morning.

SUSAN.  I had thought to be alone.  I trust my singing did not discommode you.

GERVASE.  Not at all.  I like it.  Do go on.

SUSAN.  Alas, the song ends there.

GERVASE.  Oh, well, couldn’t we have it again?

SUSAN.  Perhaps later, sir, if you insist. (Taking off his hat) Would it inconvenience you if I rested here for a few minutes?

GERVASE.  Not a bit.  It’s a jolly place to rest at, isn’t it?  Have you come far this morning?

SUSAN.  Three or four miles—­a mere nothing on a morning like this. 
Besides, what does the great William say?

GERVASE.  I don’t think I know him.  What does he say?

SUSAN.  A merry heart goes all the way.

GERVASE.  Oh, Shakespeare, yes.

SUSAN.  And why, you ask, am I merry?

GERVASE.  Well, I didn’t, but I was just going to.  Why are you merry?

SUSAN.  Can you not guess?  What does the great Ralph say?

GERVASE (trying hard).  The great Ralph. . . .  No, you’ve got me there. 
I’m sure I don’t know him.  Well, what does he say?

SUSAN.  Give me health and a day, and I will make the pomp of Empires ridiculous.

GERVASE.  Emerson, of course.  Silly of me.

SUSAN.  So you see, sir—­I am well, the day is well, all is well.

GERVASE.  Sir, I congratulate you.  In the words of the great Percy—­(to himself) that’s got him.

SUSAN (at a loss).  The—­er—­great Percy?

GERVASE.  Hail to thee, blithe spirit!

SUSAN (eagerly).  I take you, I take you!  Shelley!  Ah, there’s a poet,
Mr.—­er—­I don’t think I quite caught your name.

GERVASE.  Oh!  My name’s Gervase Mallory—­to be referred to by posterity, I hope, as the great Gervase.

SUSAN.  Not a poet, too?

GERVASE.  Well, no, not professionally.

SUSAN.  But one with the poets in spirit—­like myself.  I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Mallory.  It is most good-natured of you to converse with me.  My name is Susan, (GERVASE bows.) Generally called Master Susan in these parts, or sometimes Gentleman Susan.  I am a travelling Peddler by profession.

GERVASE.  A delightful profession, I am sure.

SUSAN.  The most delightful of all professions. (He begins to undo his pack,) Speaking professionally for the moment, if I may so far venture, you are not in any need of boot-laces, buttons, or collar-studs?

GERVASE (smiling).  Well, no, not at this actual moment.  On almost any other day perhaps—­but no, not this morning.

SUSAN.  I only just mentioned it in passing—­en passant, as the French say. (He brings out a paper bag from his pack.) Would the fact of my eating my breakfast in this pleasant resting place detract at all from your appreciation of the beautiful day which Heaven has sent us?