MARY. Yes. You're always in the right. You're like your father. Got stiff neck with pride.
RUTH. Maybe, I've cause for pride.
MARY. And maybe you haven't, and all, and if you have I've never seen cause for it.
RUTH. You shall do very soon.
MARY. You're hiding something.
RUTH. It won't be hidden long.
MARY. What is it now? Out with it, lass.
RUTH. Not yet, mother. I'll tell you when there's anything to tell.
(A knock is heard. Mary opens door after momentary surprise. Outside are Ephraim and Guy Barlow. Ephraim is a man of about sixty, well covered with flesh, clean-shaven, grey, square in the face, but not too strong of feature, wearing a short-bodied, long-tailed bottle-green coat, breeches to match, waistcoat, ruffled shirt frill, low-crowned black beaver hat with narrow curly rim, and thick draft top-coat, long in the skirt and with a huge collar Guy is twenty-eight, with fair hair and a stronger face than his father. He is clean-shaven and his clothes more fashionable and of finer material than the stout durable cloth Ephraim prefers. He has trousers instead of knee breeches.)
EPHRAIM. Is this Matt Butterworth's?