My father's crony, and poor Stephen's, too.
Mrs. Secord (curtesying). I'm glad to meet you, sir.
Sergeant (bowing low). Your servant, madam,
I hope your gallant husband is recovered.
Mrs. Secord. I thank you, sir, his wound, but not his strength,
And still his arm is crippled.
Sergeant. A badge of honour, madam, like to mine,
[He points to his empty sleeve.
Enter BABETTE with tray.
[Exit SERGEANT GEORGE.
Widow. That's right, girl, set it here. (To Mrs. Secord.) Come eat a bit.
That ham is very nice, 'tis Gloucester fed,
And cured-malt-coombs, you know, so very sweet.
(To Babette.) Mind thou the oven, lass, I've pies to bake,
And then a brisket.
[Exit BABETTE.