MILLER (snatches up his fiddle in anger). Will you hold your tongue? Shall I throw my fiddle at your head? What can you know? What can he have said? Take no notice of her clack, kinsman! Away with you to your kitchen! You'll not think me first cousin of a fool, and that I'm looking out so high for the girl? You'll not think that of me, Mr. Secretary? WORM. Nor have I deserved it of you, Mr. Miller! You have always shown yourself a man of your word, and my contract to your daughter was as good as signed. I hold an office that will maintain a thrifty manager; the president befriends me; the door to advancement is open to me whenever I may choose to take advantage of it. You see that my intentions towards Miss Louisa are serious; if you have been won over by a fop of rank---- MRS MILLER. Mr. Seckertary! more respect, I beg---- MILLER. Hold your tongue, I say. Never mind her, kinsman. Things remain as they were. The answer I gave you last harvest, I repeat to-day. I'll not force my daughter. If you suit her, well and good; then it's for her to see that she can be happy with you. If she shakes her head--still better--be it so, I should say--then you must be content to pocket the refusal, and part in good fellowship over a bottle with her father. 'Tis the girl who is to live with you--not I. Why should I, out of sheer caprice, fasten a husband upon the girl for whom she has no inclination? That the evil one may haunt me down like a wild beast in my old age--that in every drop I drink--in every bit of bread I bite, I might swallow the bitter reproach: Thou art the villain who destroyed his child's happiness! MRS MILLER. The short and the long of it is--I refuse my consent downright; my daughter's intended for a lofty station, and I'll go to law if my husband is going to be talked over. MILLER. Shall I break every bone in your body, you millclack? WORM (to MILLER). Paternal advice goes a great way with the daughter, and I hope you know me, Mr. Miller?