Laura. Indeed? And who may your master be, John?
John. ’Tis Master William Gardner, what’s the talk of the country for miles around, mistress. And that he be.
Laura. Master William Gardner! What, he of Road Farm?
John. The very same, mistress. And as grand a gentleman as anyone might wish for to see.
Laura. Yes—I seem to have heard something told about him, but I don’t rightly remember what ’twas.
John. You may have heard tell as the finest field of beans this season, that’s his.
Laura. I don’t think ’twas of beans that I did hear.
John. Or that ’twas his spotted hilt what fetched the highest price of any in the market Saturday?
Laura. No, ’twasn’t that neither.
John. Or that folks do come as thick as flies on a summer’s day from all parts of the country for to buy the wheat what he do grow. Ah, and before ’tis cut or like to be, they be a fighting for it, all of them, like a pack of dogs with a bone. So ’tis.