Becket And Other Plays Part 67

Yes, Mr. Dobson, I've been attending on his death-bed and his burial.

DOBSON.

It be five year sin' ye went afoor to him, and it seems to me n.o.bbut t'other day. Hesn't he left ye nowt?

DORA.

No, Mr. Dobson.

DOBSON.

But he were mighty fond o' ye, warn't he?

DORA.

Fonder of poor Eva--like everybody else.

DOBSON (_handing_ DORA _basket of roses_).

Not like me, Miss Dora; and I ha' browt these roses to ye--I forgits what they calls 'em, but I hallus gi'ed soom on 'em to Miss Eva at this time o' year. Will ya taake 'em? fur Miss Eva, she set the bush by my dairy winder afoor she went to school at Littlechester--so I allus browt soom on 'em to her; and now she be gone, will ye taake 'em, Miss Dora?

DORA.

I thank you. They tell me that yesterday you mentioned her name too suddenly before my father. See that you do not do so again!

DOBSON.

Noa; I knaws a deal better now. I seed how the owd man wur vext.

DORA.

I take them, then, for Eva's sake.

[_Takes basket, places some in her dress_.

DOBSON.

Eva's saake. Yeas. Poor gel, poor gel! I can't abear to think on 'er now, fur I'd ha' done owt fur 'er mysen; an' ony o' Steer's men, an'

ony o' my men 'ud ha' done owt fur 'er, an' all the parish 'ud ha'

done owt fur 'er, fur we was all on us proud on 'er, an' them theer be soom of her oan roses, an' she wur as sweet as ony on 'em--the Lord bless 'er--'er oan sen; an' weant ye taake 'em now, Miss Dora, fur 'er saake an' fur my saake an' all?

DORA.

Do you want them back again?

DOBSON.

Noa, noa! Keep 'em. But I hed a word to saay to ye.

DORA.

Why, Farmer, you should be in the hayfield looking after your men; you couldn't have more splendid weather.

DOBSON.

I be a going theer; but I thowt I'd bring tha them roses fust. The weather's well anew, but the gla.s.s be a bit shaaky. S'iver we've led moast on it.

DORA.

Ay! but you must not be too sudden with it either, as you were last year, when you put it in green, and your stack caught fire.

DOBSON.

I were insured, Miss, an' I lost nowt by it. But I weant be too sudden wi' it; and I feel sewer, Miss Dora, that I ha' been noan too sudden wi' you, fur I ha' sarved for ye well nigh as long as the man sarved for 'is sweet'art i' Scriptur'. Weant ye gi'e me a kind answer at last?

DORA.

I have no thought of marriage, my friend. We have been in such grief these five years, not only on my sister's account, but the ill success of the farm, and the debts, and my father's breaking down, and his blindness. How could I think of leaving him?

DOBSON.

Eh, but I be well to do; and if ye would n.o.bbut hev me, I would taake the owd blind man to my oan fireside. You should hev him allus wi' ye.

DORA.

You are generous, but it cannot be. I cannot love you; nay, I think I never can be brought to love any man. It seems to me that I hate men, ever since my sister left us. Oh, see here. (_Pulls out a letter_.) I wear it next my heart. Poor sister, I had it five years ago. 'Dearest Dora,--I have lost myself, and am lost for ever to you and my poor father. I thought Mr. Edgar the best of men, and he has proved himself the worst. Seek not for me, or you may find me at the bottom of the river.--EVA.'

DOBSON.

Be that my fault?

DORA.

No; but how should I, with this grief still at my heart, take to the milking of your cows, the fatting of your calves, the making of your b.u.t.ter, and the managing of your poultry?

DOBSON.

Naa'y, but I hev an owd woman as 'ud see to all that; and you should sit i' your oan parlour quite like a laady, ye should!

DORA.

It cannot be.

DOBSON.

And plaay the pianner, if ye liked, all daay long, like a laady, ye should an' all.

DORA.

It cannot be.

DOBSON.

And I would loove tha moor nor ony gentleman 'ud I loove tha.

DORA.

No, no; it cannot be.

DOBSON.

And p'raps ye hears 'at I soomtimes taakes a drop too much; but that be all along o' you, Miss, because ye weant hev me; but, if ye would, I could put all that o' one side easy anew.

DORA.

Cannot you understand plain words, Mr. Dobson? I tell you, it cannot be.

DOBSON.

Eh, la.s.s! Thy feyther eddicated his darters to marry gentlefoalk, and see what's coomed on it.

DORA.

That is enough, Farmer Dobson. You have shown me that, though fortune had born _you_ into the estate of a gentleman, you would still have been Farmer Dobson. You had better attend to your hayfield. Good afternoon.

[_Exit_.

DOBSON.

'Farmer Dobson'! Well, I be Farmer Dobson; but I thinks Farmer Dobson's dog 'ud ha' knaw'd better nor to cast her sister's misfortin inter 'er teeth arter she'd been a-readin' me the letter wi' 'er voice a-shaakin', and the drop in 'er eye. Theer she goas! Shall I foller 'er and ax 'er to maake it up? Noa, not yet. Let 'er cool upon it; I likes 'er all the better fur taakin' me down, like a laady, as she be.

Farmer Dobson! I be Farmer Dobson, sewer anew; but if iver I cooms upo' Gentleman Hedgar agean, and doant laay my cartwhip athurt 'is shou'ders, why then I beant Farmer Dobson, but summun else--blaame't if I beant!