Andrew. Yes, May, but she won’t have it.
May. Millie don’t like you very much, Andrew, do she?
Andrew. Millie’s got quite changed towards me since last time.
May. And when was that, Andrew?
Andrew. Why, last time was the evening of the Fair, May.
May. When I was hid in the cupboard yonder, Andrew?
Andrew. So you were, May. Well, can’t you recollect how ’twas that she spoke to me then?
May. O yes, Andrew, and that I can. ’Twas a quist a-cooing in the tree one time—and then—she did recollect herself and did sharpen up her tongue and ’twas another sort of bird what could drive its beak into the flesh of anyone—so ’twas.
Andrew. O May—you say she did recollect herself—what do you mean by those words?
May. You see, she did give her word that she would speak sharp and rough to you.