_The garden of the Road Farm_. _To the right an arbour covered with roses_. MRS. GARDNER _is seated in it_, _knitting_. WILLIAM _is tying up flowers and watering them_. MRS. GARDNER. And you have come to a ripe age when ’tis the plain duty of a man to turn himself towards matrimony, William. WILLIAM. ’Tis a bit of quiet that I’m after, Mother. MRS. GARDNER. Quiet! ’tis a good shaking up as you want, William. Why, you have got as set in your ways as last season’s jelly. WILLIAM. Then let me bide so. ’Tis all I ask. MRS. GARDNER. No, William. I’m got to be an old woman now, and ’tis time that I had someone at my side to help in the house-keeping and to share the work. WILLIAM. What’s Susan for, if ’tisn’t to do that? MRS. GARDNER. Susan? As idle a piece of goods as ever was seen on a summer’s day! No. ’Tisn’t a serving maid that I was thinking of, but someone who should be of more account in the house. ’Tis a daughter that I’m wanting, William, and I’ve picked out the one who is to my taste. WILLIAM. Then you’ve done more than I have, Mother. MRS. GARDNER. ’Tis the young person whom Luther Smith has left his farm and all his money to. I’ve got my eye on her for you, William. WILLIAM. Then you’ll please to put your eye somewhere else, Mother, for I’ve seen them, and they don’t suit me. MRS. GARDNER. Come, this is news, William. Pray where did you meet? WILLIAM. ’Twas when I was in church last Sunday. In they came, the two young maids from Luthers, like a couple of gallinie fowls, the way they did step up over the stones and shake the plumes of them this way and that. I don’t hold with fancy tricks. I never could abide them. No foreign wenches for me. And that’s about all. MRS. GARDNER. ’Tis true they are from town, but none the worse for that, William. You have got sadly rude and cumbersome in your ways, or you wouldn’t feel as you do towards a suitable young person. ’Tis from getting about with John so much, I think. WILLIAM. Now look you here, Mother, I’ve got used to my own ways, and when a man’s got set in his own ways, ’tis best to leave him there. I’m past the age for marrying, and you ought to know this better than anyone. MRS. GARDNER. I know that ’tis a rare lot of foolishness that you do talk, William, seeing as you’re not a year past thirty yet. But if you can’t be got to wed for love of a maid, perhaps you’ll do so for love of a purse, when ’tis fairly filled. WILLIAM. There’s always been enough for you and me so far, Mother. MRS. GARDNER. Ah, but that won’t last for ever. I’m got an old woman, and I can’t do with the dairy nor the poultry as I was used to do. And things have not the same prices to them as ’twas a few years gone by. And last year’s season was the worst that I remember. WILLIAM. So ’twas. But so long as there’s a roof over our heads and a loaf of bread and a bit of garden for me to work on, where’s the harm, Mother?