takes up the nosegay of flowers which ANDREW brought for MILLIE, and
moves her hand caressingly over it.

ELIZABETH. If you think that your neckerchief is put on right 'tis
time you should know different, Father.

DANIEL. What's wrong with it then, I'd like to know?

ELIZABETH. 'Tis altogether wrong. 'Tis like the two ears of a
heifer sticking out more than anything else that I can think on.

DANIEL. Have it your own way, Mother--and fix it as you like.

[He stands before her and she rearranges it.

ANNET. These flowers were lying on the ground.

ELIZABETH. Thrown there in a fine fit of temper, I warrant.

DANIEL. Her was as quiet as a new born lamb once the door was broke
open and she did see as my word, well, 'twas my word.

ELIZABETH. We all hear a great deal about your word, Father, but
'twould be better for there to be more do and less say about you.

DANIEL. [Going over to Annet and looking at her intently.] Why, my
wench--what be you a-dropping tears for this day?

ANNET. [Drying her eyes.] 'Twas--'twas the scent out of one of the
flowers as got to my eyes, Uncle.