Squire.—I have long sympathized with you in your bereavement; I have observed your trials and sorrows with positive pain; sympathy often ends in love—
Mrs. Felton (Aside).—Is he going to propose? (Aloud) Don’t, don’t, Squire.
Squire.—I repeat, sympathy often ends in love; Dorothy loves you well.
Mrs. Felton (Aside).—Dorothy! (Aloud) She does, I am sure. Ahem!
Squire (Falls on his knee).—And so does her father.
[Enter Mercy L.; she pauses unobserved.]
Mrs. Felton (Takes his hand).—This is indeed an honor.
Squire.—A true woman is an honor beyond price. I am the honored one (Look bashfully at each other).
Mercy (Aside).—Well, if this isn’t the spooniest collection of humans I ever was thrown among, then my name’s not Mercy. (Aloud) Excuse me.
Squire.— (Start) Eh!