ABUD. She thought me good enough. ANN. I'd have married her. ABUD. She was ambitious for me. ANN. And are you frightened of the big world? ABUD. Fine things dazzle me sometimes. ANN. But gardening is all that you're fit for? ABUD. I'm afraid so, Miss. ANN. But it's great to be a gardener . . to sow seeds and to watch flowers grow and to cut away dead things. ABUD. Yes, Miss. ANN. And you're in the fresh air all day. ABUD. That's very healthy. ANN. Are you very poor? ABUD. I get my meals in the house. ANN. Rough clothes last a long time. ABUD. I've saved money. ANN. Where do you sleep? ABUD. At Mrs. Hart's . . at a cottage . . it's a mile off. ANN. And you want no more than food and clothes and a bed and you earn all that with your hands. ABUD. The less a man wants, Miss, the better. ANN. But you mean to marry? ABUD. Yes . . I've saved money. ANN. Whom will you marry? Would you rather not say? Perhaps you don't know yet? ABUD. It's all luck what sort of a maid a man gets fond of. It won't be a widow. ANN. Be careful, John Abud. ABUD. No . . I shan't be careful. ANN. You'll do very wrong to be made a fool of. ABUD. I'm safe, Miss; I've no eye for a pretty face. DIMMUCK _arrives asthmatically at the top of the steps_. DIMMUCK. Where's Mr. George? Here's a messenger come post. ANN. Find him, Abud. ABUD. [_To_ DIMMUCK.] From Dolly? DIMMUCK. Speak respectful. ABUD. Is it from his wife? DIMMUCK. Go find him. ANN. [_As_ ABUD _is immovable_.] Dimmuck . . . tell me about Mrs. George. DIMMUCK. She's doing well, Miss. ABUD. [_Shouting joyfully now._] Mr. George! Mr. George! ANN. A boy or a girl, Dimmuck? DIMMUCK. Yes, Miss. ABUD. Mr. George! Mr. George! DIMMUCK. Ecod . . is he somewhere else? DIMMUCK, _somewhat excited himself, returns to the house_. ANN. George! ABUD. Mr. George! Mr. George! GEORGE _comes slowly along the terrace, in his hand an open book, which some people might suppose he was reading. He speaks with studied calm._ GEORGE. You are very excited, my good man. ABUD. She's brought you a child, sir. ANN. Your child! GEORGE. Certainly. ABUD. Thank God, Sir! GEORGE. I will if I please. ANN. And she's doing well. ABUD. There's a messenger come post. GEORGE. To be sure . . it might have been bad news. _And slowly he crosses the garden towards the house._ ABUD. [_Suddenly, beyond all patience._] Run . . damn you! GEORGE _makes one supreme effort to maintain his dignity, but fails utterly. He gasps out . . ._ GEORGE. Yes, I will. [_And runs off as hard as he can._] ABUD. [_In an ecstasy._] This is good. Oh, Dolly and God . . this is good! ANN. [_Round eyed._] I wonder that you can be pleased. ABUD. [_Apologising . . without apology._] It's life. ANN. [_Struck._] Yes, it is. _And she goes towards the house, thinking this over._ THE THIRD ACT _It is near to sunset. The garden is shadier than before._