Mrs. R. Ah, a good thing for un as he has, if I catch un here again to-night, I’ll--(_Rachael makes sign to Ichabod who is up c. Mrs. R. looks at Rachael_)--Lord help the lass, be she struck foolish? Bean’t ’ee agoing? Rach. Yes, ma’am. Mrs. R. Well then, do ut. Thee keeps on saying, “yes, ma’am,” “yes, ma’am,” and there ’ee sticks. (_Drops eyes. Rachael makes sign to Ichabod. Mrs. Rollitt catches her._) (_Ichabod does not understand Rachel, and tries to explain to her in pantomime about the trout, which he holds up and points to. Mrs. Rollitt follows Rachael’s eyes, and sees Ichabod. Rachael is struck dumb, and Ichabod grins and pulls his hair._) Mrs. R. If thee don’t take theeself off pretty, soon, my boy, I’ll do that for un. (_He makes no answer but continues pulling his hair and grinning, making a few steps forward and still holding out the trout. Mrs. Rollitt advances to him slowly._) Mrs. R. (_Comes c._) How often am I to tell ’ee I won’t have ’ee loafing about here after thee work’s done, and thee mother waiting for thee at home, thee good-for-nothing young--(_eyeing the trout_)--aye, but he be a bonny un that. Ich. Thowt maybe he’d do for the measter’s supper, ma’am. He wur a-having his own not half-an-hour agone, ma’am. Mrs. R. (_l. with fish in hand._) Her be a three pound un, Ichabod. Ich. As full as an egg, her be, just. Thee feel her, ma’am. Mrs. R. Ah, well, I won’t say but what thee art a thoughtful lad, Ichabod, and it will be main good for thee measter’s supper. See there’s a clear fire. (_Crosses r.Enter Deborah from staircase L._) Rachael, and bring me the stew pan and we’ll boil un. Deb. No, don’t boil it, aunt. (_Takes fish from Mrs. R._) Let me fry it. Allen alius likes ‘em best that way. (_Goes r. c. up stage._) Mrs. R. So un does, lass, so un does. Ah, thee knaw what the lad loikes, thee shall fry it. (_Hands trout to Deb._) And I’ll finish the linen while I’ve got my hand on it. (_At back of table r.c._) Deb. Allen will like that, I know. Where did you get it? Ich. (_Confused and grinning._) What, me, Miss? Deb. Not poached, I hope, Ichabod? Ich. (_Offended._) Poached, Miss? No, Miss, I wur trying to teach a fly of mine to swim, that wur all, Miss, and when I took un from the water there wur this thing hanging on to the end of un, and I couldn’t get ‘un off. Mrs. R. (_At table r. c._) Thee’d best stop awhile now, Ichabod, and the girls will gie un a bit sup. Thee mother will be main glad to be rid o’ ye a bit, I take it. Ich. Thank ye, ma’am. Mother’s alius glad to be rid of me at supper toime. (_To Deborah.) Gie me un, Miss, I’ll clean un for ye. (_Takes fish from Deborah, goes down l. at back of settle.) Rach. Shall I cook un, Miss? Mrs. R. Na, na, thee bring the pan in here, Rachael, I woan’t trust the master’s supper to ‘ee, while there’s a pair of breeches about the room.