Our American Cousin, Tom Taylor [best color ereader .TXT] 📗

she comes. Good morning, Miss Mary. Enter Mary from cottage L. Mary Oh, Wickens, you are there. How kind of you to help me with the milk pails today, when all the lads and lasses have given themselves a holiday to see the shooting. John Wickens Ah, Miss Mary, you ought to be among then, with a green hat and feather, if all had their rights. Mary Laughing. Nay, ladies without a farthing in the world, ought to put aside their ladyships and make themselves: besides I’m proud of my dairy here, just help me with this troublesome fellow, steady, don’t shake it, the cream is foaming so beautifully. There. John Wickens carries pan into cottage and returns down, R. John Wickens Now, Miss Mary, what can I do for you? Mary Let me see; well, really, I do believe, Wickens, I’ve nothing to do but amuse myself. John Wickens Dang it, Miss, that’s a pity, cos I can’t help you at that, you see. Mary Oh! Yes, bring me out dear old Welsh nurse’s spinning wheel Exit John Wickens into cottage, L. 2 E. by the side of which I have stood so often, a round-eyed baby wondering at its whirring wheel. Reenter John Wickens with wheel, places it near cottage, L. 2 E. There, that will do famously. I can catch the full scent of the jessamines. John Wickens R. C. Anything more, Miss Mary? Mary No, thank you, Wickens! John Wickens Going. Good morning, Miss Mary. Mary Good morning, Wickens. John Wickens Returning. Is there anything I can get for you, Miss Mary? Mary Spinning. Nothing, thank you. John Wickens Dang me if I wouldn’t like to stop all day, and watch her pretty figure and run errands for her. Exit R. 3 E., crosses behind fence. Mary Poor Wickens is not the only one who thinks I am a very ill-used young body. Now I don’t think so. Grandfather was rich, but he must have had a bad heart, or he never could have cast off poor mamma; had he adopted me, I should never have been so happy as I am now, uncle is kind to me in his pompous, patronizing way, and dear Florence loves me like a sister, and so I am happy. I am my own mistress here, and not anybody’s humble servant, I sometimes find myself singing as the birds do, because I can’t help it Song, “Maid with the Milking Pail,” can be introduced here. Enter Florence Trenchard and Asa Trenchard through gate, R. 3 E. Florence Trenchard Come along, cousin, come along. I want to introduce you to my little cousin. Kisses Mary. I’ve brought you a visitor, Miss Mary Meredith, Mr. Asa Trenchard, our American cousin. They shake hands. That will do for the present. This young gentleman has carried off the prize by three successive shots in the bull’s eye. Mary I congratulate you, sir, and am happy to see you. Asa Trenchard Shakes hands again. Thank you, Miss. Florence Trenchard That will do for a beginning. Asa Trenchard Aside. And so that is Mark Trenchard’s grandchild. Mary Why have you left the archery, Florence? Florence Trenchard Because, after Mr. Asa Trenchard’s display, I felt in no humor for shooting, and I have some very grave business with my cousin here. Mary You? Grave business? Why I thought you never had any graver business than being very pretty, very amiable, and very ready to be amused. Asa Trenchard Wal, Miss, I guess the first comes natural round these diggins. Bows. Mary You are very polite. This is my domain, sir, and I shall be happy to show you, that is, if you understand anything about a dairy. Florence Trenchard Yes, by the way, do you understand anything about dairies in America? Asa Trenchard Wal, I guess I do know something about cow juice. They turn to smother laugh. Why, if it ain’t all as bright and clean as a fresh washed shirt just off the clover, and is this all your doin’s, Miss? Mary Yes, sir, I milk the cows, set up the milk, superintend the churning and make the cheese. Asa Trenchard Wal, darn me if you ain’t the first raal right down useful gal I’ve seen on this side the pond. Florence Trenchard What’s that, sir? Do you want to make me jealous? Asa Trenchard Oh, no, you needn’t get your back up, you are the right sort too, but you must own you’re small potatoes, and few in a hill compared to a gal like that. Florence Trenchard I’m what? Asa Trenchard Small potatoes. Florence Trenchard Will you be kind enough to translate that for me, for I don’t understand American yet. Asa Trenchard Yes, I’ll put it in French for you, petite pommes des terres. Florence Trenchard Ah, it’s very clear now; but, cousin, do tell me what you mean by calling me small potatoes. Asa Trenchard Wal, you can sing and paint, and play on the pianner, and in your own particular circle you are some pumpkins. Florence Trenchard Some pumpkins, first I am small potatoes, and now I’m some pumpkins. Asa Trenchard But she, she can milk cows, set up the butter, make cheese, and, darn me, if them ain’t what I call raal downright feminine accomplishments. Florence Trenchard I do believe you are right cousin, so Mary do allow me to congratulate you upon not being small potatoes. Mary Well, I must look to my dairy or all my last week’s milk will be spoiled. Goodbye, Florence, dear. Goodbye, Mr. Trenchard. Good morning, sir. Exit into Cottage. Asa Trenchard Following her to door. Good morning, Miss. I’ll call again. Florence Trenchard Well, cousin, what do you think of her? Asa Trenchard Ain’t she a regular snorter? Florence Trenchard A what? Asa Trenchard Wal, perhaps I should make myself more intelligable, if I said, a squeeler, and to think I’m keepin’ that everlasting angel of a gal out of her fortune all along of this bit of paper here.Takes paper from pocket. Florence Trenchard What is that? Asa Trenchard Old Mark Trenchard’s will. Florence Trenchard Don’t