MILLIE. O I cannot see him--I'm wearied to death of Andrew, and
that's the very truth it is.

ANNET. O Millie--I wonder how 'twould feel to be you for half-an-
hour and to have such a fine suitor coming to me and asking for me to
say Yes.

MILLIE. O I wish 'twas you and not me that he was after, Annet.

ANNET. 'Tisn't likely that anyone such as Master Andrew will ever
come courting a poor girl like me, Millie. But I'd dearly love to
know how 'twould feel.

[MILLIE raises her head and looks at her cousin for a few minutes in
silence, then her face brightens.

MILLIE. Then you shall, Annet.

ANNET. Shall what, Mill?

MILLIE. Know how it feels. Look here--'Tis sick to death I am with
courting, when 'tis from the wrong quarter, and if I'm to wed Andrew
come next month, I'll not be tormented with him before that time,--so
'tis you that shall stop and talk with him this evening, Annet, and
I'll slip out to the woods and gather flowers.

ANNET. How wild and unlikely you do talk, Mill.

MILLIE. In the dusk he'll never know that 'tisn't me. Being
cousins, we speak after the same fashion, and in the shape of us