The Squire - LightNovelsOnl.com
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{Gun.} Maybe it's grocer's shop, maybe it's stores, but if the Fells imagine that droppin' in late is Market-Sinfield manners, they're darned well mistook.
Dooks may do it, but not grocers nor even stores.
{Kate.} _(on sofa--reproachfully)_ Gunnion!
{Gun.} Well, I'm the master of the ceremonies, I am.
_(Mr. and Mrs. Fell argue out the subject with Gun.
up C., Kate beckons the little Child, who runs to her.)_
{Kate.} _(rises and kneels with Child C.)_ Come here, Toddle--what's your little name?
{Child.} Stores.
_(Gunnion places Mrs. Fell on stool up C. Fell takes chair from L., of bureau and sits beside her.)_
{Kate.} Stores! No, no, no, that's not your name.
_(crosses to R., with Child)_
_(Felicity places stool beside chair R., C., of it, and Child sits. Fel. behind her. The Shabby Person, representative of the "Pagley Mercury" appears, supported on either side by two country people, men)_
{Gun.} Squire, I'm mortally grieved to say this 'ere is _Mercury_. He's a little tired; we found him in the parlour of the White Lion. Come on, drat 'ee!
_(Enter Dame, her husband and son with clarionet Kate meets Dame.)_
{Kate.} Ah, Dame, glad to see you!
{Dame.} Long life to you, Squire.
{Kate.} _(pointing to chair L.)_ Sit down, Dame.
_(Crowd follow, all bob and curtsey and say)_ All. Mornin', Squire! How are you, Squire?
_(Group formed L., of stage, Gunnion arranging them. Kate sits R., The S. P. is placed upon the couch. The Villagers and Farm Servants, Men, Women, and Children troop in and cl.u.s.ter in doorway up stage L., At the same time the Parson, breaking his way through them, enters and comes to Kate. Kate. with the little child, rises to receive him.)_
{Kate.} _(gratefully)_ Ah, Parson, how kind of you.
{Dormer.} You--you look ill.
{Kate.} No, no, not now.
{Dormer.} Whose child is this?
{Kate.} Mr. Fell's, the grocer's little girl.
{Dormer.} Bah! the world's full of girls.
{Gun.} Now then, Joe Parsley, leave go of Jane Boadsley's waist! You don't see me lowering myself with a woman! Squire, the Harvest Song! Go on, drat 'ee!
_(A simple rustic chorus is sung to the accompaniment of Rob's fiddle.)_
Chorus of Villagers.
A Woman.
What have you got for me, Good-man?
All Women.
Say--a--a--a--ay!
Men.
Laces and rings and womanly things, Upon our harvest day--a--a--a--ay!
A Woman. _(holding up a baby)_ What's for your baby boy, Good-man?
All Women.
Say--a--a--a--ay!
Men.
Bawbles and milk and a robe of silk, Upon our harvest day--a--a--a--ay!
A Woman. _(pointing to the Squire)_ What have you got for She, Good-man?
All Women, _(pointing to the Squire)_ Say--a--a--a--ay!
Men. _(stooping as if to carry a burden)_ Why, sheaf and stack, and a weary back, Upon our harvest day--a--a--a--ay!
CHORUS.
Everybody.
Bread in the oven, milk in the can, And wood for the winter fire!
Fire-ire-ire!
A broken back for the husbandman, And golden corn for the Squire!
Squire-ire-ire!
_(At end of Chorus a young girl comes from the crowd and presents Kate with a basket of fruit and flowers. Kate kisses her--the girl returns.)_
{Gun.} Squire Verity, it was my desire for to have been took down in my words by Mercury. Mercury, however, is _non composite_, as the saying goes.
{Villagers.} More shame for him!
{Gun.} But what I have to tell you is this here, Squire; the men wish you a better harvest next harvest than this harvest--as much 'ops and more wheat and barley, not to say hoats.
{Villagers.} Hear, hear!
{Gun.} The women wish you a good husband, who'll love you and protect you and put a load o' money into the land, and have all the cottages well white-washed.
{Villagers.} Hear! Hear!
