ELIZABETH. 'Tis Father at a little bit of carpentering.

ANDREW. I'm come too soon, I reckon.

ELIZABETH. We know what young men be upon their wedding morn! I
warrant as the clock can't run too fast for them at such a time.

ANDREW. You're right there, mistress. But the clock have moved
powerful slow all these last few weeks--for look you here, 'tis a
month this day since I last set eyes on Mill or had a word from her
lips--so 'tis.

ELIZABETH. You'll have enough words presently. Hark, she's coming
down with Father now.

[ANDREW turns eagerly towards the door. The farmer enters with
MILLIE clinging to his arm, she wears her ordinary dress. Her hair
is ruffled and in disorder, and she has been crying.

DANIEL. Andrew, my lad, good morning to you.

ANDREW. Good morning, master.

DANIEL. You mustn't mind a bit of an April shower, my boy. 'Tis the
way with all maids on their wedding morn. Isn't that so, Mother?

ELIZABETH. I wouldn't make such a show of myself if I was you, Mill.
Go upstairs this minute and wash your face and smooth your hair and
put yourself ready for church.