perished in the snow,
But not a ewe of Michael's: his were folded
Before the wind began to pile the drifts:
He takes no risks.

JUDITH:
Ruth needs a careful man:
For she's the sort that's steady with the steady,
And a featherhead with featherheads. She's sense:
And Michael ...

BELL:
Michael's sense itself--a cob
Too steady to shy even at the crack of doom:
He'll keep the beaten track, the road that leads
To four walls, and the same bed every night.
Talk of the devil--but he's coming now
Up Bloodysyke: ay, and there's someone with him--
A petticoat, no less!

JUDITH:
Mercy! It's Ruth:
Yet I didn't leave, till she was safely off
To work ...

BELL:
Work? Michael, too, had business
In Bellingham this morning, oddly enough.
Doubtless, they helped each other; and got through
The job the quicker, working well together:
And a parson took a hand in it for certain,
If I ken Michael: likes things proper, he does;
And always had a weakness for black lambs.
But, who'd have guessed he'd ... Surely, there's a strain
Of Haggard in the young limb, after all:
No Haggard stops to ask a parent's leave,
Even should they happen to ken the old folk by sight:
My own I knew by hearsay. But, what luck
You're here to welcome the young pair.

JUDITH:
No! They'll wonder ...
I bring no luck to weddings ... I must go ...

BELL:
You can't, without being spotted: but you can hide
Behind the door, till I speak with them.

JUDITH:
No! No!
Not that door ... I can't hide behind that door
Again.

BELL:
That door? Well, you ken best what's been
Between that door and you. It's crazy and old,
But, it looks innocent, wooden-faced humbug: yet
I don't trust doors myself; they've got a knack
Of shutting me in. But you'll be snug enough
In the other room: I'd advise you to lie down,
And rest; you're looking trashed: and, come to think,
I've a deal to say to the bridegroom, before I go.

JUDITH:
Go?

BELL:
Quick, this way: step lively, or they'll catch
Your skirt-tail whisking round the doorcheek.

(_BELL hustles JUDITH into the inner room; closing the door behind her.
She then thrusts the orange-coloured kerchief into her pocket; picks
up the bracken, and flings it on the fire; seats herself on the
settle, with her back to the door; and gazes at the blaze: not even
glanc