DORA. Why, Farmer, you should be in the hayfield looking after your men; you couldn't have more splendid weather. DOBSON. I be a going theer; but I thowt I'd bring tha them roses fust. The weather's well anew, but the glass be a bit shaäky. S'iver we've led moäst on it. DORA. Ay! but you must not be too sudden with it either, as you were last year, when you put it in green, and your stack caught fire. DOBSON. I were insured, Miss, an' I lost nowt by it. But I weänt be too sudden wi' it; and I feel sewer, Miss Dora, that I ha' been noän too sudden wi' you, fur I ha' sarved for ye well nigh as long as the man sarved for 'is sweet'art i' Scriptur'. Weänt ye gi'e me a kind answer at last? DORA. I have no thought of marriage, my friend. We have been in such grief these five years, not only on my sister's account, but the ill success of the farm, and the debts, and my father's breaking down, and his blindness. How could I think of leaving him? DOBSON. Eh, but I be well to do; and if ye would nobbut hev me, I would taäke the owd blind man to my oän fireside. You should hev him allus wi' ye. DORA. You are generous, but it cannot be. I cannot love you; nay, I think I never can be brought to love any man. It seems to me that I hate men, ever since my sister left us. Oh, see here. (_Pulls out a letter_.) I wear it next my heart. Poor sister, I had it five years ago. 'Dearest Dora,--I have lost myself, and am lost for ever to you and my poor father. I thought Mr. Edgar the best of men, and he has proved himself the worst. Seek not for me, or you may find me at the bottom of the river.--EVA.' DOBSON. Be that my fault? DORA. No; but how should I, with this grief still at my heart, take to the milking of your cows, the fatting of your calves, the making of your butter, and the managing of your poultry? DOBSON. Naä'y, but I hev an owd woman as 'ud see to all that; and you should sit i' your oän parlour quite like a laädy, ye should! DORA. It cannot be. DOBSON. And plaäy the pianner, if ye liked, all daäy long, like a laädy, ye should an' all. DORA. It cannot be. DOBSON. And I would loove tha moor nor ony gentleman 'ud I loove tha. DORA. No, no; it cannot be. DOBSON. And p'raps ye hears 'at I soomtimes taäkes a drop too much; but that be all along o' you, Miss, because ye weänt hev me; but, if ye would, I could put all that o' one side eäsy anew. DORA. Cannot you understand plain words, Mr. Dobson? I tell you, it cannot be. DOBSON. Eh, lass! Thy feyther eddicated his darters to marry gentlefoälk, and see what's coomed on it. DORA. That is enough, Farmer Dobson. You have shown me that, though fortune had born _you_ into the estate of a gentleman, you would still have been Farmer Dobson. You had better attend to your hayfield. Good afternoon. [_Exit_.