DEB. Allen will like that, I know. Where did you get it?
ICH. (Confused and grinning.) What, me, Miss?
DEB. Not poached, I hope, Ichabod?
ICH. (Offended.) Poached, Miss? No, Miss, I wur trying to teach a fly of mine to swim, that wur all, Miss, and when I took un from the water there wur this thing hanging on to the end of un, and I couldn’t get ‘un off.
MRS. R. (At table r. c.) Thee’d best stop awhile now, Ichabod, and the girls will gie un a bit sup. Thee mother will be main glad to be rid o’ ye a bit, I take it.
ICH. Thank ye, ma’am. Mother’s alius glad to be rid of me at supper toime. (To Deborah.) Gie me un, Miss, I’ll clean un for ye. (Takes fish from Deborah, goes down l. at back of settle.)
RACH. Shall I cook un, Miss?
MRS. R. Na, na, thee bring the pan in here, Rachael, I woan’t trust the master’s supper to ‘ee, while there’s a pair of breeches about the room.
RACH. (Crosses l. with a toss of her head.) I’m sure I don’t want ‘em there at all. (Picks up buckets near door l. down stage.)
MRS. R. Ah, thee wouldn’t ha’ the lad theer wi’out ‘em! Go and do as I tell ‘ee.