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2nd Farming Man. coomed back, then?

Be thou a-gawin'

Ay, to be sewer!

1st Farming Man. Why, o' coorse, fur it be the owd man's birthdaäy. He be heighty this very daäy, and 'e telled all on us to be i' the long barn by one o'clock, fur he'll gie us a big dinner, and haäfe th' parish'll be theer, an' Miss Dora, an' Miss Eva, an' all !

Miss Dora be

1st Farming Man. Ay, haäfe an hour ago. She be in theer now. (Pointing to house.) Owd Steer wur afeärd she wouldn't be back i' time to keep his birthdaäy, and he wur in a tew about it all the murnin'; and he sent me wi' the gig to Littlechester to fetch 'er; and 'er an' the owd man they fell a-kissin' o' one another like two sweet'arts i' the poorch as soon as he clapt eyes of 'er.

2nd Farming Man. likes Miss Eva the best.

Foälks says he

1st Farming Man. Naäy, I kris nowt o' what foälks says, an' I cars nowt neither. Foälks doesn't his knaw thessens; but sewer I be, they two o' the purtiest gels ye can see of a summer murnin'.

2nd Farming Man. Beänt Miss Er gone off a bit of 'er good looks o' lair? 1st Farming Man. Noã, not a bit 2nd Farming Man. Why con awaäy, then, to the long barn.

[Ex DORA looks out of window. Enter DOESN

Dora (singing).

The town lay still in the low sun-light
The hen cluckt late by the white farm ga
The maid to her dairy came in from the
cow,

The stock-dove coo'd at the fall of n
The blossom had open'd on every bo

O joy for the promise of May, of V, O joy for the promise of May. (Nodding at Dobson.) I'm cons down, Mr. Dobson. I haven't seen Fra yet. Is she anywhere in the garden? Dobson. Noä, Miss. I ha'n't se! 'er neither.

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Dobson. What's a hartist? I doänt believe he's iver a 'eart under his waistcoat. And I tells ye what, Miss Dora: he's no respect for the Queen, or the parson, or the justice o' peace, or owt. I ha' heard 'im a-gawin' on' 'ud make your 'air God bless it! - stan' 'on end. And wuss nor that. When theer wur a meeting o' farmers at Littlechester t'other daäy, and they was all a-crying out at the bad times, he cooms up, and he calls out among our oän men, 'The land belongs to the people!'

Dora. And what did you say to that? Dobson. Well, I says, s'pose my pig's the land, and you says it belongs to the parish, and theer be a thousand i' the parish, taäkin' in the women and childer; and s'pose I kills my pig, and gi'es it among 'em, why there wudn't be a dinner for nawbody, and I should ha' lost the pig.

Dora. And what did he say to that?

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Enter FARMING MAN from barn. Farming Man. Miss, the farming men 'ull hev their dinner i' the long barn, and the master 'ud be straänge an' pleased if you'd step in fust, and see that all be right and reg'lar fur 'em afoor he coom. [Exit. Dora. I go. Master Dobson, did you hear what I said?

Dobson. Yeäs, yeäs! I'll not meddle wi' 'im if he doänt meddle wi' meä. (Exit Dora.) Coomly, says she. I niver thowt o' mysen i' that waäy; but if she'd taäk to ma i' that waäy, or ony waäy, I'd slaäve out my life fur 'er. Coomly to look at,' says she-but she said it spiteful-like. To look at — yeäs, 'coomly'; and she mayn't be so fur out theer. But if that be nowt to she, then it be nowt to me. (Looking off stage.) Schoolmaster! Why if Steer ha'n't haxed schoolmaster to dinner, thaw 'e knaws I was hallus ageän heving schoolmaster i' the parish! fur him as be handy wi' a book beän't but haäfe a hand at a pitchfork.

Enter WILSON.

Well, Wilson. I seed that one cow o' thine i' the pinfold ageän as I wur a

coomin' 'ere.

Wilson. Very likely, Mr. Dobson. She will break fence. I can't keep her in order.

Dobson. An' if tha can't keep thy one cow i' horder, how can tha keep all thy scholards i' horder? But let that goä by. What dost a knaw o' this Mr. Hedgar as be a-lodgin' wi' ye?

I

coom'd upon 'im t'other daäy lookin's the country, then a-scrattin upon a bit ' paäper, then a-lookin' agean; and i taäked 'im fur soom sort of a land-soveyor-but a beänt.

Wilson. He's a Somersetshire m and a very civil-spoken gentleman.

Dobson. Gentleman! What be a-doing here ten mile an' moor fri raäil? We laäys out o' the waãy gentlefoälk altogither- leästwaäys th niver cooms 'ere but fur the trout iz beck, fur they be knaw'd as fa: s Littlechester. But 'e doänt fish neither

Wilson. Well, it's no sin in a gents man not to fish. Dobson.

Noä, but I haätes 'im. Wilson. Better step out of his roa, then, for he's walking to us, and with a book in his hand.

Dobson. An' I haätes boooks an' a", fur they puts foälk off the owd waäys. Enter EDGAR, reading- not seeing DOBSON and WILSON.

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