Mary.  And of the good leaves there is hounds tongue.  Wear it at the feet of you against dogs what be savage.  Herb Benet you nail upon the door.  No witch nor evil thing can enter to your house.

Lubin.  And have you naught that can deaden the stab of love upon the heart, mistress

Isabel. [Speaking in anguish.] Aught that can turn our faithless lovers back again to we?

Mary.  That I have.  See these small packages—­you that love Robert, take you this—­and you who courted Rose-Anna, stretch out your hand.

[She puts a small paper packet into the hands of each.

Lubin. [Looking uncertainly at his packet.] What’ll this do for me,
I’d like to know?

Mary.  ’Tis an unfailing charm.  A powder from roses, fine as dust, and another seed as well.  You put it in her glass of water—­and the love comes back to you afore next sun-rise.

Isabel.  And will it be the same with I?

Mary.  You have the Herb of Robert there.  Be careful of it.  To-morrow at this hour, his heart will be all yours again, and you shall do what you will with it.

Isabel.  O I can’t believe in this.  ’Tis too good to be true, and that it be—­A fine gentleman as Robert be now and a poor little wretch like me!

Lubin. [Slowly.] ’Tis but a foolish dream like.  How are folks like us to get mixing and messing with the drinks of they?  Time was when I did sit and eat along of them at the table, the same as one of theirselves.  But now!  Why, they’d take and hound me away from the door.

Isabel.  And me too.

Mary. [Breaking off a spray of the enchanters nightshade from the bunch drying.] That’ll bring luck, may be.

[Isabel takes it and puts it in her dress and then wraps the packet in her bundle.  Lubin puts his packet away also.  Whilst they are doing this, Mary strolls a little way on the road.

Mary. [Returning.] The man from Daniels be coming along.

Lubin. [Hastily.] What, old Andrews?

Mary.  No.  This is another.  Folk do marvel how Miller John do have the patience to keep in with him.

Lubin.  How’s that?

Mary.  So slow and heavy in his ways.  But he can drink longer at the cider than any man in the county afore it do fly to his head, and that’s why master do put up with him.

[Jeremy comes heavily towards them, a straw in his mouth.  His hat is pushed to the back of his head.  His expression is still and impassive.  He comes straight towards Mary, then halts.

Mary.  Come, Jeremy, I reckon ’tis not for rue nor tea of marjoram you be come here this morning?

Jeremy. [Looking coldly and critically at the travellers and pointing to them.] Who be they?