WILLIAM. You may call me by my name, if you like, ’tis more suitable, seeing that we might go along to Church together one of these days. LAURA. O William, you have made me very happy—I do feel all mazy like with my gladness. WILLIAM. Well, Julia, we might do worse than to—to—name the day. LAURA. Why do you call me Julia? WILLIAM. Seeing that I’ve given you leave to call me William ’tis only suitable that I should use your name as well. LAURA. But my name is not Julia. WILLIAM. What is it then, I should like to know? LAURA. ’Tis Laura, William. WILLIAM. Folks did tell me that you were named Julia. LAURA. No—Laura is my name; but I live with Mistress Julia up at Luther’s Farm, and I help her with the work. House-keeping, dairy, poultry, garden. O there’s nothing I can’t turn my hand to, Master William. WILLIAM. [_Starts up from the seat in deepest consternation_.] John, John—Come you here, I say! Come here. JOHN. [_Emerges from the bushes_.] My dearest master! WILLIAM. What’s this you’ve been and done, John? JOHN. Why, master—the one with the cherry ribbons, to her you did say. WILLIAM. [_Disgustedly_.] ’Tis the wrong one. LAURA. What are you two talking about? William, do you mean to say as that man of yours was hid in the bushes all the while? WILLIAM. Now, John, you’ve got to get me out of the fix where I’m set. JOHN. O my dear master, don’t you take on so. ’Tis a little bit of misunderstanding to be sure, but one as can be put right very soon. WILLIAM. Then you get to work and set it right, John, for ’tis beyond the power of me to do so. I’ll be blessed if I’ll ever get meddling with this sort of job again. JOHN. Now don’t you get so heated, master, but leave it all to me. [_Turning to_ LAURA.] My good wench, it seems that there has been a little bit of misunderstanding between you and my gentleman here. LAURA. [_Angrily_.] So that’s what you call it—misunderstanding ’tis a fine long word, but not much of meaning, to it, I’m thinking. JOHN. Then you do think wrong. Suppose you was to go to market for to buy a nice spring chicken and when you was got half on the way to home you was to see as they had put you up a lean old fowl in place of it, what would you do then? LAURA. I don’t see that chickens or fowls have anything to do with the matter. JOHN. Then you’re not the smart maid I took you for. ’Tis not you as would be suitable in my master’s home. And what’s more, ’tis not you as my master’s come a-courting of. LAURA. If ’tis not me, who is it then? [WILLIAM _looks at her sheepishly and then turns away_. JOHN. ’Tis your mistress, since you wants to know. LAURA. [_Indignantly_.] O, I see it all now—How could I have been so misled! JOHN. However could poor master have been so mistook, I say. LAURA. [_Turning away passionately_.] O, I’ve had enough of you and—and your master.