Mrs. Gardner. That you shall, William—and quickly too. There’s no time like the present, and your Sunday clothes are upon you still.
William. I was just going up to change, Mother.
Mrs. Gardner. Then you’ll please to remain as you are. You may take what gift you like along with you this time, so long as it’s none of my home-cured meat.
William. I’m blessed if I do stir out again this day. Why, look at the seedlings crying for water, and the nets to lay over the fruit and sommat of everything wanting to be done all around of me. I’ll not stir.
[John comes towards them.
Mrs. Gardner. Here’s John. Suppose he were to make himself useful in the garden for once instead of meddling in things that are none of his business.
John. I’ll be blowed if ’tis any more courting as I’ll do, neither for Master William nor on my own account.
William. Why, John, ’twasn’t your fault that the lady wouldn’t take me, you did your best with her, I know.
John. An that I did, Master William, but a more contrary coxsy sort of a maid I never did see. “I baint one as fancies pig meat,” her did say. And the nose of she did curl away up till it could go no higher. That’s not the wench for me, I says to myself.
Mrs. Gardner. Is the jowl hung up in its right place again, John?