_VICAR_. Why did you send for me? I hope all's right? _Schoolmaster_. Well, sir, we thought this end o' the room was dark. _V_. Indeed! So 't is. There's my new study lamp-- _S_. 'T would stand, sir, well beside yon laurel wreath. Shall I go fetch it? _V._ Do, we must not fail. Bring candles also. [_Exit Schoolmaster. Vicar arranges chairs._ Now, small six years old, And why may you be here? _Child._ I'm helping father; But, father, why d'you take such pains? _V._ Sweet soul, That's what I'm for! _C._ What, and for nothing else? _V._ Yes! I'm to bring thee up to be a man. _C._ And what am I for? _V._ There, I'm busy now. _C._ Am I to bring you up to be a child? _V._ Perhaps! Indeed, I have heard it said thou art. _C._ Then when may I begin? _V._ I'm busy, I say. Begin to-morrow an thou canst, my son, And mind to do it well. [_Exit Vicar and Child._ _Enter a group of women, and some children._ _Mrs. Thorpe._ Fine lot o' lights! _Mrs. Jillifer._ Should be! Would folk put on their Sunday best I' the week unless they looked to have it seen? What, you here, neighbour! _Mrs. Smith._ Ay, you may say that. Old Madam called; said she, 'My son would feel So sorry if you did not come,' and slipped The penny in my hand, she did; said I, 'Ma'am, that's not it. In short, some say your last Was worth the penny and more. I know a man, A sober man, who said, and stuck to it, _Worth a good twopence_. But I'm strange, I'm shy.' 'We hope you'll come for once,' said she. In short, I said I would to oblige 'em. _Mrs. Green_. Ah, 't was well. _Mrs. S_. But I feel strange, and music gets i' my throat, It always did. And singers be so smart, Ladies and folk from other parishes, Candles and cheering, greens and flowers and all I was not used to such in my young day; We kept ourselves at home. _Mrs. J_. Never say 'used,' The most of us have many a thing to do We were not used to. If you come to that, Why none of us are used to growing old, It takes us by surprise, as one may say, That work, when we begin 't, and yet 't is work That all of us must do. _Mrs. G_. Nay, nay, not all. _Mrs. J_. I ask your pardon, neighbour; you be right. Not all. _Mrs. G_. And my sweet maid scarce three months dead. _Mrs. J_. I ask your pardon truly. _Mrs. G_. No, my dear, Thou'lt never see old days. I cannot stint To fret, the maiden was but twelve years old, So toward, such a scholar. _Mrs. S._ Ay, when God, That knows, comes down to choose, He'll take the best.