Anne Evans: Poems and Music With Memorial Preface by Anne Thackeray Ritchie |
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Anne Evans: Poems and Music | ||
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II. PART II.
Scene, the Front Parlour at the Lodge. Time, Five Minutes later. Speaker, Mrs. Chapman. Hearer, Maurice.Come, come, Mr. Maurice, now don't ye look so;
I meant ye no harm, sir, but how should I know?
She walks in straight-forrard, and asks for your letter;
I puts on my glasses to see her the better:
The room's rayther dark, for they boughs be so shady;
Thinks I to myself though, “You looks like a lady!”
She didn't speak pleasant; I can't say she did.
(Let them as belongs to her do as they're bid!)
I gives her the letter, and curcheys, ye know:
She takes it like this now; and looks at it so:
No “thankee,” no nothing; not even “Good day”;
But picks up her flounces, and marches away!
I felt myself quite colour up, I declare!
Thinks I, “If they marry, they won't be no pair!
And what shall I do if the match turns out bad?
I doubt it's no kindness to screen him, poor lad!”
A great mind I had to set off to the Hall,
And ask for the Squire, and confess to it all!
Well, then I bethought me—I hadn't afore,
“He said she wa'n't twenty. She ain't, for she's more.
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I'm out if she'll see five-and-thirty agen!
Why, what will she make that poor boy believe next?
Not twenty, indeed!” I was properly vexed.
She'd got a smart hat on, like I don't know what,
They now-a-days dresses so young, when they're not;
As if you could put back your age with a hat!
I goes by the face, and they can't put back that!
I watcht her a bit; and she hadn't got fur,
When all of a sudden says I, “It aint her”—
That's Roger goes there, lookee, out by the deer;
I'd give him a call, but I don't think he'd hear.
The wind sets this way, and he's deafer than me;
He's out in all weathers, is Roger, ye see.
We've let off the Holt, but that don't touch the game;
Our squire kep' the shootin', ye know, all the same;
So Roger he just takes and goes his old rounds,
And he's seen them ladies, odd times, in the grounds.
And so I was thinking he maybe could say
Which lady it was as come in here to-day.
Go you now and ask him. I think, sir, you'd better.
It runs in my head that the aunt got that letter.
Anne Evans: Poems and Music | ||