_Sid_. Ha, ha, ha! why you are a mighty well spoken woman, Mrs. Betty, and I am mightily beholden to you for your good character of me. _Bet_. Indeed, sir, it is no more than you deserve, and what all the world and all the servants say of you. _Sid_. I am much obliged to them, Mrs. Betty.--But pray what are your commands with me? _Bet_. Why, I'll tell you, sir:--to be sure I am but a servant, as a body may say--and every tub should stand upon its own bottom;--but--[_she takes hold of him familiarly, looks first about cautiously, and speaks in a low familiar tone of great secrecy._] my young master is now in the china room in close conference with Miss Constantia;--I know what they are about--but that is no business of mine--and therefore I made bold to listen a little--because you know, sir, one would be sure--before one took away any body's reputation. _Sid_. Very true, Mrs. Betty,--very true indeed. _Bet_. O! heavens forbid that I should take away any young woman's good name--unless I had a good reason for it; but, sir, [_with great solemnity._] if I am in this place alive, as I listened, with my ear close to the door,--I heard my young master ask Miss Constantia the plain marriage question--upon which I started--and trembled--nay my very conscience stirred within me so,--that I could not help peeping through the key-hole. _Sid_. Ha, ha, ha! and so your conscience made you peep through the key-hole, Mrs. Betty? _Bet_. It did indeed, sir:--and there I saw my young master upon his knees--lord bless us--and what do you think he was doing?--kissing her hand as if he would eat it--and protesting--and assuring her--he knew that you, sir, would consent to the match--and then the tears ran down her cheeks as fast-- _Sid._ Ay! _Bet._ They did indeed. I would not tell your reverence a lie for the world. _Sid_. I believe it, Mrs. Betty--and what did Constantia say to all this? _Bet_. O!--O! she is sly enough; she looks as if butter would not melt in her mouth; but all is not gold that glitters; smooth water, you know, sir, runs deepest:--I am sorry my young master makes such a fool of himself-- but--um!--take my word for it, he is not the man,--for though she looks as modest as a maid at a christening--[_hesitating._] yet--ah!--when sweethearts meet--in the dusk of the evening--and stay together a whole hour--in the dark grove--and embrace--and kiss--and weep at parting,--why then you know, sir, it is easy to guess all the rest. _Sid._ Why did Constantia meet any body in this manner?