MRS. HALM. He was a genius, that’s the simple fact. GULDSTAD [_to himself_]. Hm! Some were of opinion he was cracked. FALK. A gray old stager, whose sagacious head Was never upon mouldy parchments fed, Says “Love makes Petrarchs, just as many lambs And little occupation, Abrahams.” But who was Molly? MISS JAY. Molly? His elect, His lady-love, whom shortly we expect. Of a great firm her father was a member— GULDSTAD. A timber house. MISS JAY [_curtly_]. I’m really not aware. GULDSTAD. Did a large trade in scantlings, I remember. MISS JAY. That is the trivial side of the affair. FALK. A firm? MISS JAY [_continuing_]. Of vast resources, I’m informed. You can imagine how the suitors swarm’d; Gentlemen of the highest reputation.— MRS. HALM. Even a baronet made application. MISS JAY. But Molly was not to be made their catch. She had met Strawman upon private stages; To see him was to love him— FALK. And despatch The wooing gentry home without their wages? MRS. HALM. Was it not just a too romantic match? MISS JAY. And then there was a terrible old father, Whose sport was thrusting happy souls apart; She had a guardian also, as I gather, To add fresh torment to her tortured heart. But each of them was loyal to his vow; A straw-thatched cottage and a snow-white ewe They dream’d of, just enough to nourish two— MRS. HALM. Or at the very uttermost a cow,— MISS JAY. In short, I’ve heard it from the lips of both,— A beck, a byre, two bosoms, and one troth. FALK. Ah yes! And then—? MISS JAY. She broke with kin and class. FALK. She broke—? MRS. HALM. Broke with them. FALK. There’s a plucky lass! MISS JAY. And fled to Strawman’s garret— FALK.