none of my business.

Widow. What is thy business? I hope Miss Howe is well?

Fellow. Yes, Madam; pure well, I thank God. I wish you were so too.

Widow. I am too full of grief to be well.

Fellow. So belike I have hard to say.

Widow. My head aches so dreadfully, I cannot hold it up. I must beg
of you to let me know your business.

Fellow. Nay, and that be all, my business is soon known. It is but to
give this letter into your own partiklar hands--here it is.

Widow. [Taking it.] From my dear friend Miss Howe?--Ah, my head!

Fellow. Yes, Madam: but I am sorry you are so bad.

Widow. Do you live with Miss Howe?

Fellow. No, Madam: I am one of her tenants' sons. Her lady-mother must
not know as how I came of this errand. But the letter, I suppose, will
tell you all.

Widow. How shall I satisfy you for this kind trouble?

Fellow. No how at all. What I do is for love of Miss Howe. She will
satisfy me more than enough. But, may-hap, you can send no answer, you
are so ill.

Widow. Was you ordered to wait for an answer?

Fellow. No, I cannot say as that I was. But I was bidden to observe
how you looked, and how you was; and if you did write a line or two, to
take care of it, and give it only to our young landlady in secret.

Widow. You see I look strangely. Not so well as I used to do.

Fellow. Nay, I don't know that I ever saw you but once before; and that
was at a stile, where I met you and my young landlady; but knew better
than to stare a gentlewoman in the face; especially at a stile.

Widow. Will you eat, or drink, friend?

Fellow. A cup of small ale, I don't care if I do.

Widow. Margaret, take the young man down, and treat him with what the
house affords.

Fellow. Your servant, Madam. But I staid to eat as I come along, just
upon the Heath yonder; or else, to say the truth, I had been here sooner.
[Thank my stars, thought I, thou didst.] A piece of powdered beef was
upon the table, at the sign of the Castle, where I stopt to inquire for
this house: and so, thoff I only intended to wet my whistle, I could not
help eating. So shall only taste of your ale; for the beef was woundily
corned.

Prating dog! Pox on thee! thought I.

He withdrew, bowing and scraping.

Margaret, whispered I, in a female voice [whispering out of the closet,
and holding the parlour-door in my hand] get him out of the house as fast
as you can, lest they come from c