_Nelly._ Yes, another guinea. One for telling you who you are not, and another for telling you who you are. Don't you see?
_Peter._ One for telling me who I am not. Yes, that's told; I am not my father's son. They say it's a wise man who knows his own father.
_Peter._ And another for telling me who I am. Well, I think that is as well worth a guinea as the other.
_Peter._ Yes, better. Well, good-bye, good woman. I'll be sure to be here.
_Nelly._ Fail not, or you'll repent it. (_Exit Peter._) The gudgeon takes the bait kindly. Peter, Peter, you had always an immense swallow. When Sally Stone nursed him, she was forced to feed the little cormorant with a tablespoon. As far as I can see, notwithstanding his partnership education with the young Squire, I think the grown babe should be fed with spoon-meat still. But what dainty lasses are these that come this way? Lucy and Miss Etheridge--how fortunate!
_Lucy._ There is the woman; so, if you are inclined to hear her nonsense, you must wait the Sibyl's pleasure.
_Agnes._ I hope she will not keep us long, or my brother will arrive before we return. (_Nelly advances._)
_Nelly._ Save you, fair lady! which of you will first look into futurity?
_Lucy._ This young lady. (_Pointing to Agnes._)
_Nelly._ Then you must retire out of hearing.
_Agnes._ No, no; I have no secrets from her. She must stay.
_Nelly._ That cannot be, my art will be useless, and I decline the task.
_Lucy._ Yield to her mummery, it can make no difference.
_Agnes._ Well, then, Lucy, don't go far away.
_Lucy._ I'll be out of hearing, but not out of sight.
[_Lucy retires, and amuses herself in collecting flowers._
_Agnes._ (_laughing_). I know that; and I am the daughter of Sir Gilbert of the Hall. Come, I'll help you, good woman.
_Nelly._ I only said that your name was Agnes.
_Agnes._ Well, and I told you more than you knew.
_Nelly._ The stars reveal not what you assert.
_Agnes._ Well, then, I do; so I know more than the stars.
_Nelly._ You are wrong. You know not so much. You are not what you think you are.
_Agnes._ In the name of wonder, what do you mean?
_Nelly._ I have said it. Let me see your hand. Your fate is a dark one! Poor young lady! You will be crossed in everything.
_Agnes._ (_laughing faintly_). Love included, I suppose. Shall I not marry the man of my affections?