Andrew.  O May—­you say she did recollect herself—­what do you mean by those words?

May.  You see, she did give her word that she would speak sharp and rough to you.

Andrew.  What are you talking about, May?  Do you mean that the tongue of her was not speaking as the heart of her did feel?

May.  I guess ’twas sommat like that, Andrew.

Andrew.  O May, you have gladdened me powerful by these words.

May.  But, O you must not tell of me, Andrew.

Andrew.  I will never do so, May—­only I shall know better how to be patient, and to keep the spirit of me up next time that she do strike out against me.

May.  I’m not a-talking of Mill, Andrew.

Andrew.  Who are you talking of then, I’d like to know?

May.  ’Twas Annet.

Andrew.  What was?

May.  Annet who was dressed up in the cloak and bonnet of Millie that night and who did speak with you so gentle and nice.

Andrew.  Annet!

Elizabeth. [Is heard calling.] There, father, come along down and give your face a wash at the pump.

May.  Let’s go quick together into the garden, Andrew, and I’ll tell you all about it and how ’twas that Annet acted so.

[She seizes Andrew’s hand and pulls him out of the room with her.

[Curtain.]

Act III.—­Scene 2.

A few minutes later.

Elizabeth stands tying her bonnet strings before a small mirror on the wall.  Daniel is mopping his face with a big, bright handkerchief.  Annet, dressed for church, is by the table.  She sadly takes up the nosegay of flowers which Andrew brought for Millie, and moves her hand caressingly over it.

Elizabeth.  If you think that your neckerchief is put on right ’tis time you should know different, Father.

Daniel.  What’s wrong with it then, I’d like to know?

Elizabeth.  ’Tis altogether wrong.  ’Tis like the two ears of a heifer sticking out more than anything else that I can think on.

Daniel.  Have it your own way, Mother—­and fix it as you like.

[He stands before her and she rearranges it.

Annet.  These flowers were lying on the ground.

Elizabeth.  Thrown there in a fine fit of temper, I warrant.

Daniel.  Her was as quiet as a new born lamb once the door was broke open and she did see as my word, well, ’twas my word.

Elizabeth.  We all hear a great deal about your word, Father, but ’twould be better for there to be more do and less say about you.

Daniel. [Going over to Annet and looking at her intently.] Why, my wench—­what be you a-dropping tears for this day?