Act I - Page 2

birthdaäy an' all. The owd man be heighty to-daäy, beänt he?

DORA. Yes, Mr. Dobson. And the day's bright like a friend, but the wind east like an enemy. Help me to move this bench for him into the sun. (They move bench.) No, not that way--here, under the apple tree. Thank you. Look how full of rosy blossom it is. [Pointing to apple tree.

DOBSON. Theer be redder blossoms nor them, Miss Dora.

DORA. Where do they blow, Mr. Dobson?

DOBSON. Under your eyes, Miss Dora.

DORA. Do they?

DOBSON. And your eyes be as blue as----

DORA. What, Mr. Dobson? A butcher's frock?

DOBSON. Noä, Miss Dora; as blue as----

DORA. Bluebell, harebell, speedwell, bluebottle, succory, forget-me-not?

DOBSON. Noä, Miss Dora; as blue as----

DORA. The sky? or the sea on a blue day?

DOBSON. Naäy then. I meän'd they be as blue as violets.

DORA. Are they?

DOBSON. Theer ye goäs ageän, Miss, niver believing owt I says to ye--hallus a-fobbing ma off, tho' ye knaws I love ye. I warrants ye'll think moor o' this young Squire Edgar as ha' coomed among us--the Lord knaws how --ye'll think more on 'is little finger than hall my hand at the haltar.

DORA. Perhaps, Master Dobson. I can't tell, for I have never seen him. But my sister wrote that he was mighty pleasant, and had no pride in him.

DOBSON. He'll be arter you now, Miss Dora.

DORA. Will he? How can I tell?

DOBSON. He's been arter Miss Eva, haän't he?

DORA. Not that I know.

DOBSON. Didn't I spy 'em a-sitting i' the woodbine harbour togither?

DORA. What of that? Eva told me that he was taking her likeness. He's an artist.

DOBSON. What's a hartist? I doänt believe he's iver a 'eart under his waistcoat. And I tells ye what, Miss Dora: he's no respect for the Queen, or the parson, or the justice o' peace, or owt. I ha' heärd 'im a-gawin' on 'ud make your 'air--God bless it!--stan' on end. And wuss nor that. When theer wur a meeting o' farmers at Littlechester t'other daäy, and they was all a-crying out at the bad times, he cooms up, and he calls out among our oän men, 'The land belongs to the people!'

DORA. And what did you say to that?

DOBSON. Well, I says, s'pose my pig's the land, and you says it belongs to the parish, and theer be a thousand i' the parish, taäkin' in the women and childer; and s'pose I kills my pig, and gi'es it among 'em, why there wudn't be a dinner for nawbody, and I should ha' lost the pig.

DORA. And what did he say to that?

DOBSON. Nowt--what could he saäy? But I taäkes 'im fur a bad lot and a burn fool, and I haätes the very sight on him.

DORA. (Looking at DOBSON.) Master Dobson, you are a comely man to look at.

DOBSON. I