RACH. Ichabod’s, ma’am. I—I mean Mr. Ichabod was helping me, ma’am.
MRS. R. What at? (Pause.) How often am I to tell ’ee I won’t have that hulking scamp hanging about here after his work’s done. Do ’ee understand?
RACH. Yes, ma’am.
MRS. R. Here’s getting on for 8 o’clock, and thee master may be home any minute as hungry as a hunter, poor lad, and noothing ready for his supper. Get down the ham (Rachael goes to fireplace r.), and bring me in the frying-pan and I’ll do it myself.
RACH. (Turning to go.) Yes, ma’am.
MRS. R. And don’t be half-an-hour about it. Is Ichabod gone?
RACH. Oh yes, ma’am.
(Mrs. R. turns to her work, Ichabod appears at door at hack, with a trout in his hand. Rachael catching sight of him stops, and motions him to go away.)
MRS. R. Ah, a good thing for un as he has, if I catch un here again to-night, I’ll—(Rachael makes sign to Ichabod who is up c. Mrs. R. looks at Rachael)—Lord help the lass, be she struck foolish? Bean’t ’ee agoing?
RACH. Yes, ma’am.