Susan.  Nor I.

John.  Ah, this courting business, ’tis a rare caddling muddle when ’tis all done and said.

Susan.  ’Tis according as some folks do find it, Master John.

John.  ’Tis a smartish lot as you’ll get of it come Sunday night, my wench.  You wait and see.

Susan.  That shews how little you do know.  ’Twill be better nor ever with me then.

John.  ’Twill be alone by yourself as you’ll go walking, Su.

Susan.  We’ll see about that when the time comes, John.

John.  All I says is that I baint a-going walking with you.

Susan.  I never walk with two, John.

John.  You’ll have to learn to go in your own company.

Susan.  I shall go by the side of my husband by then, very likely.

John.  Your husband?  What tales be you a-giving out now?

Susan.  ’Tis to Nat as I’m to be wed come Saturday.

John.  Get along with you, Susan, and put a cap to your head.  Mistress will be coming out presently, and then you know how ’twill be if her catches you so.  Get along in with you.

Susan.  Now you don’t believe what I’m telling you—­but it’s true, O it’s true.

John.  Look here—­There’s company at the gate, and you a-standing there like any rough gipsy wench on the road.  Get you in and make yourself a decenter appearance and then go and tell the mistress as they be comed.

Susan. [Preparing to go indoors and speaking over her shoulder.] ’Tis in the parson’s gown as you should be clothed, Master John.  Ah, ’tis a wonderful wordy preacher as you would make, to be sure.  And ’tis a rare crop as one might raise with the seed as do fall from your mouth.

[She goes indoors.  Julia comes leisurely into the garden.

Julia.  Well, John, and how are you feeling now?

John.  Nicely, thank you, mistress.  See yon arbour?

Julia.  And that I do, John.

John.  Well, you may go and sit within it till the master has leisure to come and speak with you.

Julia.  Thank you, John, but I would sooner stop and watch you tend the flowers.

John.  ’Tis all one to me whether you does or you does not.

Julia.  Now, John, you are angry with me still.

John.  I likes a wench as do know the mind of she, and not one as can blow hot one moment and cold the next.

Julia.  There was never a moment when I did not know my own mind, John.  And that’s the truth.

John.  Well, us won’t say no more about that.  ’Taint fit as there should be ill feeling nor quarrelling ’twixt me and you.

Julia.  You’re right, John.  And there was something that I had it in my mind to ask you.