Cremer.  She wer’ a gude wife to me—­no man didn’t ’ave no better wife.

Strangway. [Putting his hand out] Take hold—­hard—­harder!  I want yours as much as you want mine.  Pray for me, Jack, and I’ll pray for you.  And we won’t give way, will we?

Cremer. [To whom the strangeness of these words has given some relief] No, zurr; thank ’ee, zurr.  ’Tes no gude, I expect.  Only, I’ll miss ’er.  Thank ’ee, zurr; kindly.

[He lifts his hand to his head, turns, and uncertainly goes out to the kitchen.  And Strangway stays where he is, not knowing what to do.  They blindly he takes up his flute, and hatless, hurries out into the air.]

ACT II

SCENE I

About seven o’clock in the taproom of the village inn.  The bar, with the appurtenances thereof, stretches across one end, and opposite is the porch door on to the green.  The wall between is nearly all window, with leaded panes, one wide-open casement whereof lets in the last of the sunlight.  A narrow bench runs under this broad window.  And this is all the furniture, save three spittoons: 

Godleigh, the innkeeper, a smallish man with thick ruffled hair, a loquacious nose, and apple-red cheeks above a reddish-brown moustache; is reading the paper.  To him enters Tibby Jarland with a shilling in her mouth.

Godleigh.  Well, Tibby Jarland, what’ve yu come for, then?  Glass o’ beer?

     [Tibby takes the shilling from her mouth and smiles stolidly.]

Godleigh. [Twinkling] I shid zay glass o’ ‘arf an’ ’arf’s about yure form. [Tibby smiles more broadly] Yu’m a praaper masterpiece.  Well!  ’Ave sister Mercy borrowed yure tongue? [Tibby shakes her head] Aw, she ’aven’t.  Well, maid?

Tibby.  Father wants six clay pipes, please.

Godleigh.  ’E du, du ’ee?  Yu tell yure father ’e can’t ’ave more’n one, not this avenin’.  And ’ere ‘tis.  Hand up yure shillin’.

[Tibby reaches up her hand, parts with the shilling, and receives a long clay pipe and eleven pennies.  In order to secure the coins in her pinafore she places the clay pipe in her mouth.  While she is still thus engaged, Mrs. Bradmere enters the porch and comes in.  Tibby curtsies stolidly.]

Mrs. Bradmere.  Gracious, child!  What are you doing here?  And what have you got in your mouth?  Who is it?  Tibby Jarland? [Tibby curtsies again] Take that thing out.  And tell your father from me that if I ever see you at the inn again I shall tread on his toes hard.  Godleigh, you know the law about children?

Godleigh. [Cocking his eye, and not at all abashed] Surely, m’m.  But she will come.  Go away, my dear.