e. Oh, Ann, you are forgetting your cape. Here, mother, you carry it for her. Good-night, sweetheart.
Ann. I want no company, Goodwife Corey. [Martha _takes her laughingly by the arm and leads her out._
Paul. It is a fine night out.
Olive. So I have heard.
Paul. You make a jest of me, Mistress Olive. Know you not when a man is of a sudden left alone with a fair maid, he needs to try his speech like a player his fiddle, to see if it be in good tune for her ears; and what better way than to sound over and over again the praise of the fine weather? What ailed Ann that she seemed so strangely, Olive?
Olive. I know not. I think she had been overwrought by coming alone through the woods.
Paul. She seemed ill at ease. Why spin you so steadily, Olive?
Olive. I must finish my stint.
Paul. Who set you a stint as if you were a child?
Olive. Mine own conscience, to which I w