John.  Then you do think wrong.  Suppose you was to go to market for to buy a nice spring chicken and when you was got half on the way to home you was to see as they had put you up a lean old fowl in place of it, what would you do then?

Laura.  I don’t see that chickens or fowls have anything to do with the matter.

John.  Then you’re not the smart maid I took you for.  ’Tis not you as would be suitable in my master’s home.  And what’s more, ’tis not you as my master’s come a-courting of.

Laura.  If ’tis not me, who is it then?

[William looks at her sheepishly and then turns away.

John.  ’Tis your mistress, since you wants to know.

Laura. [Indignantly.] O, I see it all now—­How could I have been so misled!

John.  However could poor master have been so mistook, I say.

Laura. [Turning away passionately.] O, I’ve had enough of you and—­ and your master.

John.  Now that’s what I do like for to hear.  Because me and master have sommat else to do nor to stand giddle-gaddling in this old wood the rest of the day.  Us have got a smartish lot of worry ahead of we, haven’t us, master?

William.  You never said a truer word, John.

John.  Come along then Master William.  You can leave the spring vegetables to she.  ’Tis more nor she deserves, seeing as her might have known as ’twas her mistress the both of us was after, all the time.

[Laura throws herself on the seat and begins to cry silently, but passionately.

William.  O John, this courting, ’tis powerful heavy work.

John. [Taking William’s arm.] Come you along with me, master, and I’ll give you a helping hand with it all.

Laura. [Looking up and speaking violently.] I warrant you will, you clown.  But let me advise you to look better afore you leap next time, or very likely ’tis in sommat worse than a ditchful of nettles as you’ll find yourself.

John. [Looking back over his shoulders as he goes off with William.] I reckon as you’ve no call to trouble about we, mistress.  Us is they what can look after theirselves very well.  Suppose you was to wash your face and dry your eyes and set about the boiling of yon spring cabbage.  ’Twould be sensibler like nor to bide grizzling after one as is beyond you in his station, so ’twould.

[John and William go out, leaving Laura weeping on the bench, the basket of vegetables by her side.

[Curtain.]

Act II.—­Scene 3.

Julia is sitting at the foot of a tree in the wood.  Chris, Nat and
Tansie are seated near her on the ground.

Julia.  I wish this day might last for always.

Chris. Why, when to-morrow’s come, ’twill be the same.