“But her ladyship is thinking very seriously about it, Dolly, and you see you were found talking to him.”
“Ye—ye—yes, my lady.”
“But, you foolish girl, don’t you understand that he is little better than a beggar—an Italian mendicant?”
“Ye-ye-yes, my lady.”
“Then how can you be so foolish?”
“I—I—I don’t know, my lady.”
“You, a respectable farmer’s daughter, to think of taking up with a low man who goes about the streets turning the handle of an organ. Dolly, Dolly, my poor girl, what does it mean?”
“I—I—I don’t know, my lady. Ow! I am so miserable.”
“Of course you are, my good girl. There, promise me you’ll forget it all, and I’ll speak to her ladyship, and tell her you’ll be more sensible, and get her to let you stay.”
“I—I can’t, my lady.”