DICKON [Grinning.] Yet the Justice was a dear friend of “Blacksmith Bess.”
GOODY RICKBY Ay, “Blacksmith Bess!” If I hadn’t had a good stout arm when he cast me off with the babe, I might have starved for all his worship cared.
DICKON True, Bessie; ’twas a scurvy trick he played on thee—and on me, that took such pains to bring you together—to steal a young maid’s heart—
GOODY RICKBY And then toss it away like a bad penny to the gutter! And the child—to die! [Lifting her hammer in rage.] Ha! if I could get the worshipful Justice Gilead into my power again— [Drops the hammer sullenly on the anvil.] But no! I shall beat my life away on this anvil, whilst my justice clinks his gold, and drinks his port to a fat old age. Justice! Ha—justice of God!
DICKON Whist, dame! Talk of angels and hear the rustle of their relatives.
GOODY RICKBY [Turning, watches outside a girl’s figure approaching.] His niece—Rachel Merton! What can she want so early? Nay, I mind me; ’tis the mirror. She’s a maid after our own hearts, boy,—no Sabbath-go-to-meeting airs about her! She hath read the books of the magi from cover to cover, and paid me good guineas for ’em, though her uncle knows naught on’t. Besides, she’s in love, Dickon.
DICKON [Indicating the scarecrow.] Ah? With him? Is it a rendezvous?
GOODY RICKBY [With a laugh.] Pff! Begone!
DICKON [Shakes his finger at the scarecrow.] Thou naughty rogue!
[Then, still smiling slyly, with his head placed confidentially next to the scarecrow’s ear, as if whispering, and with his hand pointing to the maiden outside, Dickon fades away into air. Rachel enters, nervous and hesitant. Goody Rickby makes her a courtesy, which she acknowledges by a nod, half absent-minded.]