MAY. Can’t we stop till the packets are opened? ELIZABETH. You heard what I said? Go off into the garden, and stop there till I send for you. And take uncle’s glass and wash it at the spout as you go. ANNET. [_Taking the glass_.] I’ll wash it, Aunt. Come May, you see aunt doesn’t want us any longer. MAY. Now they’re going to talk secrets together. O I should dearly love to hear the secrets of grown-up people. [ANNET _and_ MAY _go out together_. DANIEL. Annet be got a fine big wench, upon my word. Now haven’t her, Mother? ELIZABETH. She’s got old enough to be put to service, and if I’d have had my way, ’tis to service she’d have gone this long time since, and that it is. DANIEL. ’Twould be poor work putting one of dead sister’s wenches out to service, so long as us have a roof over the heads of we and plenty to eat on the table. ELIZABETH. Well, you must please yourself about it Father, as you do most times. But ’tis uncertain work taking up with other folks children as I told you from the first. See what a lot of trouble you and me have had along of Giles. DANIEL. Giles be safe enough in them foreign parts where I did send him. You’ve no need to trouble your head about he, Mother—unless ’tis a letter as he may have got sending to Mill. ELIZABETH. No, Father, Giles has never sent a letter since the day he left home. But very often there is no need for letters to keep remembrance green. ’Tis a plant what thrives best on a soil that is bare. DANIEL. Well, Mother, and what be you a-driving at? I warrant as Mill have got over them notions as she did have once. And, look you here, ’twas with young Andrew as I did journey back from the Fair. And he be a-coming up presently for to get his answer. ELIZABETH. All I say is that I hope he may get it then. DANIEL. Ah, I reckon as ’tis rare put about as he have been all this long while, and never a downright “yes” to what he do ask. [MAY _comes softly in and hides behind the door_. ELIZABETH. Well, that’s not my fault, Father. DANIEL. But her’ll have to change her note this day, that her’ll have. For I’ve spoke for she, and ’tis for next month as I’ve pitched the wedding day. ELIZABETH. And you may pitch, Father. You may lead the mare down to the pond, but she’ll not drink if she hasn’t the mind to. You know what Millie is. ’Tisn’t from my side that she gets it either. DANIEL. And ’tain’t from me. I be all for easy going and each one to his self like. ELIZABETH. Yes, there you are, Father. DANIEL. But I reckon as the little maid will hearken to what I says. Her was always a wonderful good little maid to her dad. And her did always know, that when her dad did set his foot down, well, there ’twas. ’Twas down. ELIZABETH. Well, if you think you can shew her that, Father, ’tis a fortunate job on all sides. [_They suddenly see_ MAY _who has been quiet behind the door_.