Six Plays by Lady Florence Henrietta Fisher Darwin Part 20

'Tis famished as the poor young maid must be.

EMILY. She should have come when 'twas meal time then. I don't hold with bites nor drinks in between whiles.

JOAN. O I'm dying for a gla.s.s of milk--or water would do as well.

MILES. My dear young lady--anything to oblige. [Turning to Jessie.]

Come, my little maid, see if you can't make yourself useful in bringing a tray of refreshment for your auntie. And you [turning to Robin] trot off and help sister.

EMILY. Not if I know it. Stop where you are, Jess. Robin, you dare to move. If Clara wants to eat and drink I'm afeared she must wait till supper time.

ROBIN. There be chicken and sparrow gra.s.s for supper, Aunt.

JESSIE. And a great pie of gooseberries.

JOAN. [Faintly.] O I couldn't touch a mouthful of food, don't speak to me about it.

ROBIN. I likes talking of dinner. After I've done eating of it, I likes next best to talk about it.

LUKE. See here, missis. Let's have a gla.s.s of summat cool for Miss Clara.

EMILY. [Calling angrily.] Maggie, Maggie, where are you, you great lazy-boned donkey?

MAGGIE. [Comes in from the back kitchen, her ap.r.o.n held to her eyes.] Did you call me, mistress?

EMILY. Get up a bucket of water from the well. Master's sister wants a drink.

MAGGIE. [Between sobs.] Shall I bring it in the bucket, or would the young lady like it in a jug?

EMILY. [With exasperation.] There's no end to the worriting that other folks do make.

JESSIE. Let me go and help poor Maggie, mother.

ROBIN. [To JOAN.] Do you know what Maggie's crying for, Aunt Clara?

JOAN. I'm sure I don't, little boy.

ROBIN. 'Tis because she's got to go. Mother's sent her off. 'Twas what she said of mother's tongue.

EMILY. [Roughly taking hold of ROBIN and JESSIE.] Come you along with me, you ill-behaved little varmints. 'Tis the back kitchen and the serving maid as is the properest place for such as you. I'll not have you bide 'mongst the company no longer. [She goes out with the children and followed by MAGGIE.]

[Directly they have left the room JOAN, whose manner has been nervously shrinking, seems to recover herself and she a.s.sumes a languid, artificial air, badly imitating the ways of a lady of fas.h.i.+on.

JOAN. [Fanning herself with her handkerchief and her fan.] Well, I never did meet with such goings on before.

MILES. You and I know how people conduct themselves in London, Miss Clara. We must not expect to find the same polite ways down here.

LUKE. Come now, 'tisn't so bad as all that with we. There baint many what has the tongue of mistress yonder.

JOAN. I'm quite unused to such people.

LUKE. And yet, Miss Clara, 'tisn't as though they were exactly strangers to you like.

JOAN. They feel as good as strangers to me, any way.

MILES. Ah, how well I understand that, Miss. 'Tisn't very often as we lay a length of fine silken by the side of unbleached woollen at my counters.

JOAN. I could go through with it better perhaps, if I didn't feel so terrible faint and sinking.

LUKE. [Going to the back kitchen door.] Here, Maggie, stir yourself up a bit. The lady is near fainting, I do count.

JESSIE. [Runs in with a tray on which is a jug of water and a gla.s.s.] I'm bringing the drink for Aunt, Mr. Jenner. Maggie's crying ever so badly, and Mother's sent her upstairs to wash her face and put her hair tidy.

[JESSIE puts the tray on the table near to where JOAN is sitting.

MILES HOOFER busies himself in pouring out a gla.s.s of water and in handing it with a great deal of exaggerated deference to JOAN.

JOAN. [Drinking.] Such a coa.r.s.e gla.s.s!

MILES. Ah, you must let me send you up one from my place during your stay here. Who could expect a lady to drink from such a thing as that?

JOAN. [Laying aside the gla.s.s.] There's a taste of mould in the water too.

JESSIE. It's fresh. Mother drawed it up from the well, she did.

JOAN. [Looking disdainfully round on the room.] Such a strange room. So very common.

LUKE. Nay, you mustn't judge of the house by this. Don't you recollect the parlour yonder, with the stuffed birds and the chiney cupboard?

JOAN. [Looking round again.] Such an old-fas.h.i.+oned place as this I never did see. 'Tis a low sort of room too, no carpet on the boards nor cloth to the table, nor nothing elegant.

MILES. Ah, we find the mansions in town very different to a country farm house, don't we Miss?

JOAN. I should think we did, Mister Hooper. Why, look at that great old wooden chair by the hearth? Don't it look un-stylish, upon my word, with no cus.h.i.+ons to it nor nothing.

JESSIE. [Coming quite close to JOAN and looking straight into her face.] That's great gran'ma's chair, what Dad said you'd be best pleased for to see.

[JOAN looks very confused and begins to fan herself hastily.

JESSIE. And th' old clock's another thing what Dad did say as you'd look upon.

JOAN. O the old clock's well enough, to be sure.

JESSIE. I did want to gather a nosegay of flowers to set in your bedroom, Aunt, but Mother, she said, no.

JOAN. [Languidly.] I must say I don't see any flowers blooming here that I should particular care about having in my apartment.

JESSIE. And Father said as how you'd like to smell the blossoms in the garden. And Georgie told as how you did use to gather the clover blooms when you was a little girl and set them by you where you did sleep.

JOAN. [Crossly.] O run away, child, I'm tired to death with all this chatter. How would you like to be so pestered after such a travel over the rough country roads as I have had?