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!
Jarge. Well, this du be a day! To think of our Rachel now!
Fitzhugh. MY Rachel now.
Rachel (who, it is to be hoped, has been amusing herself somehow since her last speech). Your Rachel always!