William. Well, Julia, we might do worse than to—to—name the day.
Laura. Why do you call me Julia?
William. Seeing that I’ve given you leave to call me William ’tis only suitable that I should use your name as well.
Laura. But my name is not Julia.
William. What is it then, I should like to know?
Laura. ’Tis Laura, William.
William. Folks did tell me that you were named Julia.
Laura. No—Laura is my name; but I live with Mistress Julia up at Luther’s Farm, and I help her with the work. House-keeping, dairy, poultry, garden. O there’s nothing I can’t turn my hand to, Master William.
William. [Starts up from the seat in deepest consternation.] John, John—Come you here, I say! Come here.
John. [Emerges from the bushes.] My dearest master!