Fitzhugh. Let me look at you! It must be! The Squire's missing daughter!
(Gaffers Jarge and Willyum, having entered unobserved at the back some time ago, have been putting in a lot of heavy by-play until wanted.)
Jarge (at last). Lor' bless 'ee, Willyum, if it bain't Squire a-kissin' our Rachel.
Willyum. Zo it du be. Here du be goings-on! What will t' passon say?
Jarge (struck with an idea). Zay, bor, don't 'ee zee a zort o' loikeness atween t' maid and t' Squire?
Willyum. Jarge, if you bain't right, lad. Happen she do have t' same nose!
(Hearing something, Fitzhugh and Rachel turn round.)
Fitzhugh. Ah, my men! I'm your new Squire. Do you know who this is?
Willyum. Why, her du be our Rachel.
Fitzhugh. On the contrary, allow me to introduce you to Miss Fitzhugh, daughter of the late Squire!