William.  Well, John, it appears that I’m to pass out of my own keeping.  My Sunday clothes are all laid out upon the bed.

John.  Bless my soul, Master William, and ’tis but Thursday too.

William.  Isn’t that a proper day for this sort of business, John?

John.  I’ve always been used to Saturday myself, but with a gentleman ’tis different like.

William.  Well, John, there’s nothing in this day or that as far as I can see.  A bad job is a bad job, no matter what, and the day of it does make but very little difference.

John.  You’re right there, master.  But if I may be so bold, where is it as you be going off courting this afternoon?

William.  Ah—­now you and me will have a straight talk one with another—­for ’tis to you I look, John, for to pull me out of this fix where the mistress has gone and put me.

John.  And that I’ll do, master—­with all the will in the world.

William.  Well then, John, ’tis to be one of those maids from strange parts who are come to live at old Luther’s, up yonder.

John.  Ah, I seed the pair of them in church last Sunday.  Fine maids, the both of them, and properly suitable if you was to ask me.

William.  ’Tis only the one I’ve got to court, John.

John.  And I reckon that’s one too many, Master William.

William.  You’re right there, John.  ’Tis Mistress Julia I’ve to go at.

John.  And which of the pair would that be, Master William?

William.  That one with the cherry colour ribbons to her gown, I believe.

John.  Ah, t’other was plainer in her dressing, and did keep the head of her bent smartish low on her book, so that a man couldn’t get a fair look upon she.

William.  That would be the housekeeper or summat.  ’Tis Julia, who has the old man’s money, I’m to court.

John.  Well, master, I’ll come along with you a bit of the road, to keep your heart up like.

William.  You must do more than that for me, John.  You’ve got to learn me how the courting is done before I set off.

John.  Why, master, courting baint a thing what wants much learning, that’s the truth.

William.  ’Tis all new to me, John.  I’m blessed if I know how to commence.  Why, the thought of it at once sends me hot all over; and then as cold again.

John.  You start and get your clothes on, master.  ’Tis half the battle—­clothes.  What a man cannot bring out of his mouth of a Saturday will fall out easy as anything on the Sunday with his best coat to his back.

William.  No, John.  The clothes won’t help me in this fix.  You must tell me how to start once I get to the farm and am by the door.

John.  You might take a nosegay with you, master.