The Stranger | Page 3

couldn't go there for nothing?
Pet. And why not, pray?--But I did go there for nothing, though.--Do
you think one must be paid for every thing?--If Mrs. Haller were to
give me but a smiling look, I'd jump up to my neck in the great pond
for nothing.
Fra. It seems then Mrs. Haller sent you?
Pet. Why, yes--But I'm not to talk about it.
Fra. Why so?
Pet. How should I know? "Look you," says Mrs. Haller, "Master Peter,
be so good as not to mention it to any body." [With much consequence.]
"Master Peter, be so good"--Hi! hi! hi!--"Master Peter, be so"--Hi! hi!
hi!--
Fra. Oh! that is quite a different thing. Of course you must be silent
then.
Pet. I know that; and so I am too. For I told old Tobias--says I, "Now,
you're not to think as how Mrs. Haller sent the money; for I shall not
say a word about that as long as I live," says I.
Fra. There you were very right. Did you carry him much money?
Pet. I don't know; I didn't count it. It was in a bit of a green purse.
Mayhap it may be some little matter that she has scraped together in the
last fortnight.

Fra. And why just in the last fortnight?
Pet. Because, about a fortnight since, I carried him some money before.
Fra. From Mrs. Haller?
Pet. Ay, sure; who else, think you? Father's not such a fool. He says it
is our bounden duty, as christians, to take care of our money, and not
give any thing away, especially in summer; for then, says he, there's
herbs and roots enough in conscience to satisfy all the reasonable
hungry poor. But I say father's wrong, and Mrs. Haller's right.
Fra. Yes, yes.--But this Mrs. Haller seems a strange woman, Peter.
Pet. Ay, at times she is plaguy odd. Why, she'll sit, and cry you a whole
day through, without any one's knowing why.--Ay, and yet, somehow
or other, whenever she cries, I always cry too--without knowing why.
Fra. [To the STRANGER.] Are you satisfied?
Stra. Rid me of that babbler.
Fra. Good day, Master Peter.
Pet. You're not going yet, are you?
Fra. Mrs. Haller will be waiting for an answer.
Pet. So she will. And I have another place or two to call at. [Takes off
his hat to STRANGER.] Servant, sir!
Stra. Pshaw!--
Pet. Pshaw! What--he's angry. [PETER turns to FRANCIS, in a half
whisper.] He's angry, I suppose, because he can get nothing out of me.
Fra. It almost seems so.
Pet. Ay, I'd have him to know I'm no blab. [Exit.

Fra. Now, sir?
Stra. What do you want?
Fra. Were you not wrong, sir?
Stra. Hem! wrong!
Fra. Can you still doubt?
Stra. I'll hear no more! Who is this Mrs. Haller? Why do I always
follow her path? Go where I will, whenever I try to do good, she has
always been before me.
Fra. You should rejoice at that.
Stra. Rejoice!
Fra. Surely! That there are other good and charitable people in the
world beside yourself.
Stra. Oh, yes!
Fra. Why not seek to be acquainted with her? I saw her yesterday in the
garden up at the Castle. Mr. Solomon, the steward, says she has been
unwell, and confined to her room almost ever since we have been here.
But one would not think it, to look at her; for a more beautiful creature
I never saw.
Stra. So much the worse. Beauty is a mask.
Fra. In her it seems a mirror of the soul. Her charities--
Stra. Talk not to me of her charities. All women wish to be
conspicuous:--in town by their wit; in the country by their heart.
Fra. 'Tis immaterial in what way good is done.
Stra. No; 'tis not immaterial.

Fra. To this poor old man at least.
Stra. He needs no assistance of mine.
Fra. His most urgent wants indeed, Mrs. Haller has relieved; but
whether she has or could have given as much as would purchase liberty
for the son, the prop of his age--
Stra. Silence! I will not give him a doit! [In a peevish tone.] You
interest yourself very warmly in his behalf. Perhaps you are to be a
sharer in the gift.
Fra. Sir, sir, that did not come from your heart.
Stra. [Recollecting himself.] Forgive me!
Fra. Poor master! How must the world have used you, before it could
have instilled this hatred of mankind, this constant doubt of honesty
and virtue!
Stra. Leave me to myself!
[Throws himself on a seat; takes from his pocket "Zimmerman on
Solitude," and reads.
Fra. [Aside, surveying him.] Again reading! Thus it is from morn to
night. To him nature has no beauty; life, no charm. For three