Harf. Just at the turning of this corner. But what’s this?—I can’t find the house—yet I am sure I have not forgot the situation. Surely it must be pulled down! Oh! my dear old friends, what can have become of you?
Beau. You had best ask that little girl.
Harf. Hark ye, my dear! do you know one John Beech, of this place?
Girl. What, old John Beech? O yes, very well, and Mary Beech, too.
Harf. Where do they live?
Girl. A little farther on in the lane.
Harf. Did they not once live hereabouts?
Girl. Yes, till Farmer Tything pulled the house down to make his hop-garden.
Harf. Come with me to show me the place, and I’ll give you a penny.
Girl. Yes, that I will. (They walk on.) There—that low thatched house—and there’s Mary spinning at the door.