Sally. And everybody says there’s not a more likely farmer in the neighborhood than you.
Harry. Much obliged to everybody. But, Sally, I think your father is a little selfish.
Sally. Don’t abuse father. He’s the most generous man—
Harry. I know. But I’ve grown valuable to him. And now, when I ask him to let me marry you, he “hems” and “haws,” and says, “Don’t be in a hurry. Have patience.” He knows that the moment you are my wife, I shall pack up and be off; and that’s what’s the matter.
Sally. It will all come right one of these days.
Harry. I suppose it will. But it don’t come right now. I tell you, Sally, I’m going to have an answer this very day, or to-morrow I’m off.
Sally. Off? And leave me?
Harry. O, no. Take you with me. You love me—don’t you, Sally?
Sally. You know I do, Harry.