Daniel. ’Tis with the maids as ’tis with the fowls when they be come out from moult. They be bound to pick about this way and that in their new feathers.
Elizabeth. Well, ’tis to be hoped the young people have fixed it up for good and all this time.
Daniel. Come Mill, my wench, you be wonderful quiet. Where’s your tongue?
Elizabeth. I think we’ve all had quite enough of Millie’s tongue, Father. Let her give it a rest if she’ve a mind.
Daniel. I warrant she be gone as shy as a May bettel when ’tis daylight. But us’ll take it as she have fixed it up in her own mind like. Come, Mother, such a time as this, you won’t take no objection to the drawing of a jug of cider.
Elizabeth. And supper just about to be served? I’m surprised at you, Father. No, I can’t hear of cider being drawn so needless like.
Daniel. Well, well,—have it your own way—but I always says, and my father used to say it afore I, a fine deed do call for a fine drink, and that’s how ’twas in my time.
Elizabeth. Millie, do you call your cousins in to supper.
Daniel. Ah, and where be the maids gone off to this time of night, Mother?
Andrew. Annet did pass me as I came through the yard, Master