DEBORAH
(with spirit).
There you read me wrong, Master Franklin. I have supped with printers before this.
FRANKLIN.
Then 'twas the printer's loaf you mocked this morning, Mistress Deborah; and not the printer. Yet in truth, why should eating in the street displease you, since 'twas a matter of necessity. Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse, and my purse was not over full. But—diligence is the mother of luck, and heaven gives all things to industry [Footnote: From "Poor Richard's Almanac.">[
DEBORAH
(with a toss).
You speak as if you and Industry were boon companions.
FRANKLIN.
And what better companion could I have? Heaven helps them that help themselves.
DEBORAH
(witheringly).
'Tis a fine thing to have high hopes, I doubt not.