Plun. To tell the truth I was not thinking wholly of Lionel, either!
Nan. (demurely). You have troubles of your own?
Plun. You know very well what I mean!—I shall be so lonely when he leaves me to go and live on his grand estates.—Will you think of me sometimes, Miss Nancy, sitting all alone in my poor farmhouse?
Nan. Ye-es, perhaps—I don't know. I shall think how you sit and si-i-igh—like that. (Sighs in mock-serious fashion.) Ah-h-h!
Plun. You needn't laugh. It is a serious matter. I am very much to be pitied.
Nan. If you could only—(hesitates)
Plun. What is she going to say now, the witch? (Aside.)
Nan. If you could—couldn't you get some one to come and live with you—a friend, perhaps—or even—a wife—now! Just let your imagination work a little.
Plun. That's so, I might get somebody to marry me! That would be a good idea. I have a pretty neighbor—a farmer's daughter—
Nan. O, indeed! A farmer's daughter? A good steady girl, I've no doubt, who would always do exactly what you told her. That's an excellent idea. Marry her by all means!