_Dame._ Oh, Tummas, I shall be so pleased to see her, I shan't know whether I stand on my head or my heels. _Ash._ Stand on thy head! vor sheame o' thyzel--behave pratty, do. _Dame._ Nay, I meant no harm--Eh, here comes friend Evergreen the gardener, from the castle. Bless me, what a hurry the old man is in. _Enter_ EVERGREEN. _Everg._ Good day, honest Thomas. _Ash._ Zame to you, measter Evergreen. _Everg._ Have you heard the news? _Dame._ Any thing about Mrs. Grundy? _Ash._ Dame, be quiet, woolye now? _Everg._ No, no--The news is, that my master, Sir Philip Blandford, after having been abroad for twenty years, returns this day to the castle; and that the reason of his coming is, to marry his only daughter to the son of Sir Abel Handy, I think they call him. _Dame._ As sure as two-pence, that is Nelly's husband. _Everg._ Indeed!--Well, Sir Abel and his son will be here immediately; and, Farmer, you must attend them. _Ash._ Likely, likely. _Everg._ And, mistress, come and lend us a hand at the castle, will you?--Ah, it is twenty long years since I have seen Sir Philip--Poor gentleman! bad, bad health--worn almost to the grave, I am told.---What a lad do I remember him--till that dreadful--[_Checking himself._] But where is Henry? I must see him--must caution him--[_A gun is discharged at a distance._] That's his gun, I suppose--he is not far then--Poor Henry! _Dame._ Poor Henry! I like that indeed! What though he be nobody knows who, there is not a girl in the parish that is not ready to pull caps for him--The Miss Grundys, genteel as they think themselves, would be glad to snap at him--If he were our own, we could not love him better. _Everg._ And he deserves to be loved--Why, he's as handsome as a peach tree in blossom; and his mind is as free from weeds as my favourite carnation bed. But, Thomas, run to the castle, and receive Sir Abel and his son. _Ash._ I wool, I wool--Zo, good day. [_Bowing._] Let every man make his bow, and behave pratty--that's what I say.--Missus, do'ye show un Sue's letter, woolye? Do ye letten see how pratty she do write feyther. [_Exit._ _Dame._ Now Tummas is gone, I'll tell you such a story about Mrs. Grundy--But come, step in, you must needs be weary; and I am sure a mug of harvest beer, sweetened with a hearty welcome, will refresh you. [_Exeunt into the house._ SCENE II. _Outside and gate of the Castle--Servants cross the stage, laden with different packages._ _Enter_ ASHFIELD. _Ash._ Drabbit it, the wold castle 'ul be hardly big enow to hold all thic lumber. _Sir Abel Handy._ [_Without._] Gently there! mind how you go, Robin. [_A crash._ _Ash._ Who do come here? A do zeem a comical zoart ov a man--Oh, Abel Handy, I suppoze. _Enter_ SIR ABEL HANDY.--SERVANT _following._