HUGH. [Struggling to speak just as Neli reaches his nose, wringing it vigorously at she wipes it.] Aye, but Neli, I was just tellin' ye when I fell that I could not find the deacon's relish—uch, achoo! achoo!
DEACON ROBERTS. [With finality, tossing the egg in air, catching it and putting it back in basket.] Well, indeed, mum, I must be steppin' homewards now.
[Neli's glance rests on fire burning on other side of room. She puts down wet cloth. She turns squarely on the Deacon.
NELI. What is your haste, Mr. Roberts? Please to go to the fire an' wait! I can find the relish.
DEACON ROBERTS. [Hastily.] Nay, nay, mum. I have no need any more—[Coughs.] Excellent herrin' brine.
[Goes toward door.
NELI. [To Hugh.] Take him to the fire, Hugh. 'Tis a cold day whatever! [Insinuatingly to Deacon.] Have ye a reason for wantin' to go, Mr. Roberts?
DEACON ROBERTS. [Going.] Nay, nay, mum, none at all! But, I must not trouble ye. 'Tis too much to ask, an' I have no time to spare an'——
NELI. [Interrupting and not without acerbity.] Indeed, Mr. Roberts, sellin' what we can is our profit. [To Hugh, who obediently takes Deacon by arm and pulls him toward fire.] Take him to the fire, lad. [To Deacon.] What kind of a relish was it, did ye say, Mr. Roberts?
DEACON ROBERTS. [Having a tug of war with Hugh.] 'Tis an Indian relish, mum, but I cannot wait.