DICKON [Going slowly to the forge.] Why, ’tis hardly dawn yet. Honest folks are still abed. It makes a long day.
GOODY RICKBY [Working, while Dickon plies the bellows.] Aye, for your black pets, the crows, to work in. That’s why I’m at it early. You heard ’em. We must have this scarecrow of ours out in the field at his post before sunrise. [Finishing.] So, there! Now, Dickon boy, I want that you should—
DICKON [Whipping out a note-book and writing.] Wait! Another one! “I want that you should—”
GOODY RICKBY What’s that you’re writing?
DICKON The phrase, Goody dear; the construction. Your New England dialect is hard for a poor cosmopolitan devil. What with ut clauses in English and Latinized subjunctives—You want that I should—Well?
GOODY RICKBY Make a masterpiece. I’ve made the frame strong, so as to stand the weather; you must make the body lifelike so as to fool the crows. Last year I stuck up a poor sham and after a day they saw through it. This time, we must make ’em think it’s a real human crittur.
DICKON To fool the philosophers is my specialty, but the crows—hm!
GOODY RICKBY Pooh! That staggers thee!
DICKON Madame Rickby, prod not the quick of my genius. I am Phidias, I am Raphael, I am the Lord God!— You shall see— [Demands with a gesture.] Yonder broomstick.
GOODY RICKBY [Fetching him a broom from the corner.] Good boy!