~Rachel~ (_in the most expensive accent_). Now, Uncle George (_shaking a finger at him_), didn't you promise me you'd go straight home? It would serve you right if I never tied your tie for you again. (_She smiles brightly at him._) ~Jarge~ (_slapping his thigh in ecstasy_). Eh, lass! yer du keep us old uns in order. (_He bursts into a falsetto chuckle, loses the note, blushes and buries his head in his mug._) ~Willyum~ (_rising_). Us best be gettin' down along, Jarge, a rackun. ~Jarge.~ Ay, bor, time us chaps was moving. Don't 'e be long, lass. (_Exeunt, limping heavily._) ~Rachel~ (_sitting down on the log_). Dear old men! How I love them all in this village! I have known it all my life. How strange it is that I have never had a father or mother. Sometimes I seem to remember a life different to this--a life in fine houses and spacious parks, among beautifully dressed people (_which is surprising seeing that she was only three weeks old at the time; but the audience must be given a hint of the plot_), and then it all fades away again. (_She looks fixedly into space._) _Enter_ Hugh Fitzhugh, _Squire._ ~Fitzhugh~ (_standing behind Rachel, but missing her somehow_). Did ever man come into stranger inheritance? A wanderer in Central Australia, I hear unexpectedly of my cousin's death through an advertisement in an old copy of a Sunday newspaper. I hasten home--too late to soothe his dying hours; too late indeed to enjoy my good fortune for more than one short day. To-morrow I must give up all to the hospitals, unless by some stroke of Fate this missing girl turns up. (_Impatiently._) Pshaw! She is dead. (_Suddenly he notices_ Rachel.) By heaven, a pretty girl in this out-of-the-way village! (_He walks round her._) Gad, she is lovely! Hugh, my boy, you are in luck. (_He takes off his hat._) Good evening, my dear! ~Rachel~ (_with a start_). Good evening. ~Fitzhugh~ (_aside_). She is adorable. She can be no common village wench. (_Aloud._) Do you live here, my girl? ~Rachel.~ Yes, I have always lived here. (_Aside._) How handsome he is. Down, fluttering heart. ~Fitzhugh~ (_sitting on the log beside her_). And who is the lucky village lad who is privileged to woo such beauty? ~Rachel.~ I have no lover, Sir. ~Fitzhugh~ (_taking her hand_). Can Hodge be so blind? ~Rachel~ (_innocently_). Are you making love to me? ~Fitzhugh.~ Upon my word I--(_He gets up from the log, which is not really comfortable._) What is your name? ~Rachel.~ Rachel. (_She rises._) ~Fitzhugh.~ It is the most beautiful name in the world. Rachel, will you be my wife? ~Rachel.~ But we have known each other such a short time! ~Fitzhugh~ (_lying bravely_). We have known each other for ever.