Elizabeth. Good-morning, Andrew.
Andrew. What’s going on upstairs?
Elizabeth. ’Tis Father at a little bit of carpentering.
Andrew. I’m come too soon, I reckon.
Elizabeth. We know what young men be upon their wedding morn! I warrant as the clock can’t run too fast for them at such a time.
Andrew. You’re right there, mistress. But the clock have moved powerful slow all these last few weeks—for look you here, ’tis a month this day since I last set eyes on Mill or had a word from her lips—so ’tis.
Elizabeth. You’ll have enough words presently. Hark, she’s coming down with Father now.
[Andrew turns eagerly towards the door. The farmer enters with Millie clinging to his arm, she wears her ordinary dress. Her hair is ruffled and in disorder, and she has been crying.
Daniel. Andrew, my lad, good morning to you.
Andrew. Good morning, master.