ing up, as MICHAEL and RUTH enter._)

MICHAEL:
Mother!

BELL:
Is that you, Prodigal son? You're late, to-day,
As always when you've business in Bellingham.
That's through, I trust: those ewes have taken a deal
Of seeing to: and I'm lonely as a milestone,
When you're away.

MICHAEL:
I've taken the last trip, mother:
That job's through: and I've made the best of bargains.
You'll not be lonely, now, when I'm not here:
I've brought you a daughter to keep you company.

BELL (_turning sharply_):
I might have known you were no Prodigal son:
He didn't bring home even a single sausage,
For all his keeping company with swine.
But, what should I do with a daughter, lad?
Do you fancy, if I'd had a mind for daughters,
I couldn't have had a dozen of my own?
One petticoat's enough in any house:
And who are you, to bring your mother a daughter?

MICHAEL:
Her husband. Ruth's my bride. Ruth Ellershaw
She was till ten o'clock: Ruth Barrasford,
Till doomsday, now.

BELL:
When did I give you leave
To bring strange lasses to disturb my peace,
Just as I'm getting used to Krindlesyke?
To think you'd wed, without a word!

MICHAEL:
Leave, say you?
You'll always have your jest. I said no word:
For words breed words: and I'd not have a swarm
Of stinging ants bumming about my lugs
For days beforehand.

BELL:
Ants? They'd need be kaids,
To burrow through your fleece, and prog your skin.

MICHAEL:
I'd as lief ask leave of the tricky wind as you:
And, leave or not, I'd see you damned, if you tried
To part us. None of your games! I'm no young wether,
To be let keep his old dam company;
Trotting beside her ...

BELL:
Cock-a-whoop, my lad!
Well done, for you, Ruth, lass; you've kindled him,
As I could never do, for all my chaff.
I little dreamt he'd ever turn lobstroplous:
I hardly ken him, with his dander up,
Swelling and bridling like a bubblyjock.
If I pricked him now, he'd bleed red blood--not ewe's milk:
The flick of my tongue can nettle him at last:
His haunches quiver, for all his woolly coat;
He'll prove a Haggard, yet. Nay--he said "husband":
No Haggard I've heard tell on's been a husband:
But, if your taste's for husbands, lass, you're suited,
Till doomsday, as he says. He kens his mind:
When barely breeched, he chose to bide with sheep;
Though he might