Polly (_kindly_). I dunno that 'e'll do 'im much 'urt. 'E only means to frighten 'im orf comin' rahnd tryin' to court a girl that's too young to know wot marryin' means. Yer silly girl! Toime 'ul come soon enough. 'Ere, dry yer eyes an' come to yer mother. When proper time comes, yer'll not foind us backward at lettin' yer go. It's not come yet by years. Yer taken by 'is looks an' 'is bold ways. It ain't looks as make a man. This 'un's one of them sort as bring woe to a girl wot's fool enough to wed 'em. 'E's your fust, but yer not 'is fust, not by many a one. Liza (_indignantly_). 'E says I am. Polly. Hark to that now. Creditin' anything a feller tells yer when 'e's lurin' yer to 'is arms. (_The whistle pipes l. Liza hears it and jerks up her head. Polly fails to notice it._) Eh, not that I blame yer so much, yer too young to know different. P'raps yer'd best go to yer bed, as yer father said, an' ave yer cry out. Yer'll be better in the mornin'. Liza (_with a quick look off l. in the direction of the whistling_). All right, mother. (_She reaches the door, losses her head defiantly and exit l. Polly gets some matches and is about to light the gas when Andrew opens the door c. and returns buckling on his belt. It is growing gradually darker. Polly puts the match box down unused._) Polly. Well, 'ave yer trounced 'im? Andrew. No. 'E dodged me some'ow an I 'eard is darned whistle goin' impudent afterward I reckon 'e wants to get 'er out, but I'll watch 'im at it. Polly. Liza's gorn to bed to 'ave 'er cry out. She'll get over it by mornin'. Young 'uns don't take love bad. (_Whistle sounds off l._) Andrew (_moving to door c._). Darn 'im for a piece of brassen impudence! If I don't break an' spoil 'is whistle for 'im, my name's not Andrew Bettesworth. I'll raise a lump on 'is thick 'ead big enough for 'im to 'ang 'is 'at on. Polly (_detaining him with her hand on his arm_). I'm not so sure, Andrew. I've bin thinkin' as that's not right road o' dealin' with 'im. Andrew. Right or wrong, 'e'll feel the weight of my belt with my arm behind it when I catch 'im. Polly. I'll tell yer wot I'm thinkin. Yer leathered the fellers wot came after Martha an' Sally, but it didn't choke 'em orf. Made 'em all the keener. Made 'em think the girls was jewels, or yer'd not make so much fuss abart lettin' go of 'em. Let this feller think the girl's a wrong 'un an' 'e'll cool orf quick enough. Andrew. Well, so they are jewels, an' Liza's the best of the bunch. Polly. Yus, o' course she is, but you don't need to let 'im know it. Make 'im think yer'd be glad to get shut of 'er. Then 'e'll start thinkin' there's somethin' wrong abart the girl an' lave er' alone. Andrew. (_shaking her off_). Garn, that's all woman's bunkum. It takes a man to dal with a job like this 'ere. Wot 'e wants is a thick ear an' I'll stick it out till I catch 'im an' give it 'im an all.