Away went Margery.

Lovel. And now, my dear widow, let me see what a charming Mrs. Lovelace
you'll make!--Ask if he comes from Miss Howe. Ask if he lives with her.
Ask how she does. Call her, at every word, your dear Miss Howe. Offer
him money--take this half-guinea for him--complain of your head, to have
a pretence to hold it down; and cover your forehead and eyes with your
hand, where your handkerchief hides not your face.--That's right--and
dismiss the rascal--[here he comes]--as soon as you can.

In came the fellow, bowing and scraping, his hat poked out before him
with both his hands.

Fellow. I am sorry, Madam, an't please you, to find you ben't well.

Widow. What is your business with me, friend?

Fellow. You are Mrs. Harriot Lucas, I suppose, Madam?

Widow. Yes. Do you come from Miss Howe?

Fellow. I do, Madam.

Widow. Dost thou know my right name, friend?

Fellow. I can give a shrewd guess. But that is none of my business.

Widow. What is thy business? I hope Miss Howe is well?

Fellow. Yes, Madam; pure well, I thank God. I wish you were so too.