John [R. C.] Anything more, Miss Mary?

Mary No, thank you, Wickens!

John [Going.] Good morning, Miss Mary.

Mary Good morning, Wickens.

John [Returning.] Is there anything I can get for you, Miss Mary?

Mary [Spinning.] Nothing, thank you.

John 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 and Asa through gate, R. 3 E.