DEB. (Smiling.) Of me, aunt?
MRS. R. Ah, sure!—(Laughs.)—I expect un be worrying hisself finely for fear thee doan’t care for un, a fancying thee prefers Jim Harkabuck, maybe.
DEB. (Demurely—goes up r. and gets l. of Mrs. Rollitt.) Jim Harkabuck is a very nice fellow, and he does stare. (Smiling, and going to her aunt.) Do you think Allen really—really does—Aunt? (Kneels to Mrs. Rollitt, who turns her head away r. a little.)
MRS. R. (Laughing, and shaking her off playfully. Pauses.) Does he! Why beant he alius quarreling wi’ thee, and doan’t he eat twice as much o’ anything if he knows thee cooked it—and besides—(Pauses and becomes absorbed in stockings.)
DEB. Besides what, aunt?
MRS. R. Why didn’t I find un only the evening afore last when un didn’t know I wur there. (Laughing.)
(Enter Rachael l. door with fish in frying-pan.—Deborah rises.)
RACH. (Crossing r. and giving it to Deborah.) Shall I put it on, Miss?
DEB. (c. goes R. to fireplace.) No, I’ll see to it; Rachael, thank you.
RACH. I have put some butter in the pan, Miss.