Mrs. Jillifer. Should be! Would folk put on their Sunday best I' the week unless they looked to have it seen? What, you here, neighbour!
Mrs. Smith. Ay, you may say that.
Old Madam called; said she, 'My son would feel
So sorry if you did not come,' and slipped
The penny in my hand, she did; said I,
'Ma'am, that's not it. In short, some say your last
Was worth the penny and more. I know a man,
A sober man, who said, and stuck to it,
Worth a good twopence. But I'm strange, I'm shy.'
'We hope you'll come for once,' said she. In short,
I said I would to oblige 'em.
Mrs. Green. Ah, 't was well.
Mrs. S. But I feel strange, and music gets i' my throat,
It always did. And singers be so smart,
Ladies and folk from other parishes,
Candles and cheering, greens and flowers and all
I was not used to such in my young day;
We kept ourselves at home.
Mrs. J. Never say 'used,'
The most of us have many a thing to do
We were not used to. If you come to that,
Why none of us are used to growing old,
It takes us by surprise, as one may say,
That work, when we begin 't, and yet 't is work
That all of us must do.
Mrs. G. Nay, nay, not all.
Mrs. J. I ask your pardon, neighbour; you be right. Not all.
Mrs. G. And my sweet maid scarce three months dead.
Mrs. J. I ask your pardon truly.
Mrs. G. No, my dear,
Thou'lt never see old days. I cannot stint
To fret, the maiden was but twelve years old,
So toward, such a scholar.