_Molly._ Where’s Mr. Ignoramus, the tutorer, then? _Robin._ Mr. Ignatius you mean. He’s out, taking his evening’s walk. _Molly._ Be he? I hope he be gone down towards the little bridge. _Robin._ Why? _Molly._ The last time he went that way, he were so busy at what he called soldering a problem, that he stumbled over into the brook. If I had been in your place, Robin, before I pulled him out again I’d ha’ made him promise to consent to our marriage, or I’d ha’ let him bide there till doomsday. _Robin._ Molly, Molly, you don’t like Mr. Polyglot. _Molly._ Why don’t he like me then? _Robin._ It is not you alone, but he would dislike any other young maiden about the house the same. _Molly._ And what for? there’s no reason in that. Am I to blame? I’m sure ’tis no fault of mine, Robin, that I’m a young maiden. Ha! ha! ha! A pretty to-do there’d be if he should catch me here—in his own apartments too! _Robin._ So there would. I tremble to think of it; and so, Molly, you’d better— _Molly._ I don’t care: if he says any thing to me, I’ll give him his own. Besides, our master, old Master Eustace, will be home in a few days, and we’ll ask his leave to be married, in spite of old tutorer. _Robin._ No, no, we must not displease him; he’s steward as well as tutorer, and— _Molly._ He’ll discharge us? let him. I’m not afeard of wanting a service. I have relations who are up in the world. I’m first cousin to Sally Maggs, who is head chambermaid at the Bell, at Winchester—Chattering Sally, as they call her, and well they may, for she is chatter, chatter, chatter— _Robin._ In that respect, Molly, you don’t disgrace the relationship. _Molly._ Discharge us, indeed! the sooner the better; we may then get married when we please. What does the foolish old chap mean by not liking folks to marry? I wish his father had been of the same mind, and then Mr. Ignoramus would not have been here to torment us. _Robin._ Well, well, though he is a little crabbed and sour, he’s a good old soul at bottom. He’d go through fire and water to serve young Master Charles. _Molly._ With a vengeance! Poor young gentleman! he’s grown as melancholy as a willow tree: and no wonder: at four-and-twenty to be kept in leading-strings like a baby! But no good will come of it, see if there do; and I wish that Master Charles would give him the slip one of these days, on purpose to plague him. O, if I could but catch the old one doing any thing amiss— _Robin._ Think kindlier of him, Molly; we’ll wait till we find him in a good humour, and then perhaps— _Molly._ If we wait till then, Robin, you need be in no hurry to buy the wedding ring. Well, I’ll go. _Robin._ Do; for after all ’twould do no good to anger him. And, Lord! if he were to see us here together!-Well, good bye, my dear Molly. _Molly._ Good bye, Robin! (_loitering_) Good bye, Robin! _Robin._ (_Kisses her_) Bless your little heart!