[As she goes to the forge, the stout figure of a man appears in the doorway behind her. Under one arm he carries a large book, in the other hand a gold-headed cane. He hesitates, embarrassed.]
THE MAN Permit me, Madam.
GOODY RICKBY [Turning.] Ah, him!—Justice Merton!
JUSTICE MERTON [Removing his hat, steps over the sill, and lays his great book on the table; then with a supercilious look, he puts his hat firmly on again.] Permit me, dame.
GOODY RICKBY You!
[With confused, affected hauteur, the Justice shifts from foot to foot, flourishing his cane. As he speaks, Goody Rickby, with a shrewd, painful expression, draws slowly backward toward the door left, which opens into an inner room. Reaching it, she opens it part way, stands facing him, and listens.]
JUSTICE MERTON I have had the honour—permit me—to entertain suspicions; to rise early, to follow my niece, to meet just now Squire Talbot, an excellent young gentleman of wealth, if not of fashion; to hear his remarks concerning—hem!—you, dame! to call here—permit me—to express myself and inquire—
GOODY RICKBY Concerning your waistcoat?
[Turning quickly, she snatches an article of apparel which hangs on the inner side of the door, and holds it up.]
JUSTICE MERTON [Starting, crimson.] Woman!