[_As_ MARTIN, _incapable of answer, stares into the garden_, SANFORD, _with a grunt, turns inside, and laboriously begins the ascent of the little staircase. Once he pauses and throws back a condescending glance. Perceiving it lost on his abstracted servant, he resumes his journey, and presently passes out of sight into the rooms above. There is a moment of pregnant silence. Then, with a smothered cry_, MARTIN _steps swiftly forward, and, arms extended in a poignant, yearning gesture, seems to greet the two persons who, unaware of him, are rounding the path to the garden. As, very close to one another, they come onward to the cottage, his arms drop, and as they mount the little steps, he withdraws into the shadows of the hedge. At this, the small feminine figure in the colonial flowered lavender and quilted poke-bonnet, slips her little black-mitted hand even more closely into the arm of her grave young escort. He wears a coat of deep bright blue and snuff-colored trousers; a high white stock is about his throat; on his head, a square hat._ LYDIA. [_With clear approval, as_ MARTIN _vanishes_.] That was very polite of him, dear Richard! Quite as if he understood the circumstances. RICHARD. [_Ardently._] Yes, yes, but pray do not let us think of that now, my darling! We are home--at last! LYDIA. [_Caressing the lace ruffle on his sleeve._] Yes, of course, dear Richard! But [_With vague unrest._] we must be particular about the people--I fear he is not the only one about! RICHARD. Must we think of them at once? Couldn’t we just settle down? LYDIA. [_Rapping him playfully with her little prayer-book._] Settle down? Without knowing who’s about? The idea! Do you think my mamma brought me up to be that kind of a housekeeper? RICHARD. [_With a courtly bend._] I’m sure you’re the best housekeeper a man ever had! LYDIA. [_Sweeping him a courtesy._] Thank you, thank you, dear Richard! [_Then, suddenly picking up her long flowered skirts so that the lavender clocks twinkle above the little slippered feet._] And I’ll prove it to you! [_Puzzled, half to herself._] Though I don’t know why I said that about the people a minute ago. Things puzzle me so sometimes. I’ll race you to the kitchen--though it’s unladylike, I suppose, to run--but I do want to make you a pasty. Mamma always made them for my papa, and my marriage being so near, she taught me last week. I made them perfectly yesterday! [LYDIA _breaks into a run_; RICHARD _catches her wrist, and together they are running into the cottage, when the ear-trumpets on the table meet their astonished eyes_. RICHARD.