Susan. Very bad, John, very bad indeed; he has not got a leg to stand upon; and as to his shoe, try everything we can think of, we can't get him to put his foot in it.
[Extempore soliloquy by Lawless. Precious odd if lie doesn't, for he's not half up in his part, I know.]
John. Can't thee, really? well, if that be the case, I needn't ask how his temper is?
Susan. Bad enough, I can tell you; Missus has plenty to bear, poor thing!
John, Indeed she has, and she be too young and pretty to be used in that manner. Ah! that comes of marrying an old man for his money; she be uncommon pretty, to be sure; I only knows one prettier face in the whole village.
Susan (with an air of forced unconcern). Aye, John, and whose may that be, pray? Mary Bennett, perhaps, or Lucy Jones?
John. No, it ain't either of them.
Susan. Who is it then?
John. Well, if thee must needs know, the party's name is Susan.
Susan (still with an air of unconsciousness). Let me see, where is there a Susan? let me think a minute. Oh! one of Darling the blacksmith's girls, I dare say; it's Susan Darling!