DANIEL. ’Tis with the maids as ’tis with the fowls when they be come out from moult. They be bound to pick about this way and that in their new feathers. ELIZABETH. Well, ’tis to be hoped the young people have fixed it up for good and all this time. DANIEL. Come Mill, my wench, you be wonderful quiet. Where’s your tongue? ELIZABETH. I think we’ve all had quite enough of Millie’s tongue, Father. Let her give it a rest if she’ve a mind. DANIEL. I warrant she be gone as shy as a May bettel when ’tis daylight. But us’ll take it as she have fixed it up in her own mind like. Come, Mother, such a time as this, you won’t take no objection to the drawing of a jug of cider. ELIZABETH. And supper just about to be served? I’m surprised at you, Father. No, I can’t hear of cider being drawn so needless like. DANIEL. Well, well,—have it your own way—but I always says, and my father used to say it afore I, a fine deed do call for a fine drink, and that’s how ’twas in my time. ELIZABETH. Millie, do you call your cousins in to supper. DANIEL. Ah, and where be the maids gone off to this time of night, Mother? ANDREW. Annet did pass me as I came through the yard, Master [MAY, _quietly opens the cupboard door and comes out_. ELIZABETH. So that’s where you’ve been, you deceitful little wench. ANDREW. Well, to think of that, Millie. ELIZABETH. And how long may you have bid there, I should like to know? DANIEL. Come, come, my little maid, ’tis early days for you to be getting a lesson in courtship. MAY. O there wasn’t any courtship, Uncle, and I didn’t hear nothing at all to speak of. ELIZABETH. There, run along quick and find your sister. Supper’s late already, and that it is. ANNET. I’ll go with her. [_She starts forward and hurriedly moves towards the door_. ELIZABETH. Stop a moment, Millie. What are you thinking of to go trailing out in the dew with that beautiful cloak and bonnet. Take and lay them in the box at once, do you hear? DANIEL. That’s it, Mill. ’Twouldn’t do for to mess them up afore the day. ’Twas a fair price as I gived for they, and that I can tell you, my girl. [ANNET _stops irresolutely_. MAY _seizes her hand_. MAY. Come off, come off, “Cousin Millie”; ’tis not damp outside, and O I’m afeared to cross the rickyard by myself. [_She pulls_ ANNET _violently by the hand and draws her out of the door_. ELIZABETH. Off with the cloak this minute, Millie. MAY. [_Calling back_.] She’s a-taking of it off, Aunt, she is. ELIZABETH. I don’t know what’s come to the maid. She don’t act like herself to-day. DANIEL. Ah, that be asking too much of a maid, to act like herself, and the wedding day close ahead of she. ELIZABETH. I’d be content with a suitable behaviour, Father. I’m not hard to please. DANIEL. Ah, you take and let her go quiet, same as I lets th’ old mare when her first comes up from grass. ELIZABETH. ’Tis all very well for you to talk, Father but ’tis I who have got to do.