Six Plays by Lady Florence Henrietta Fisher Darwin Part 32

EMILY. [In a voice of suppressed anger.] Thomas! O, if I catch any more of these goings on in my kitchen.

[JOAN, very elegantly dressed and hanging on the arm of MILES HOOPER, follows EMILY into the room.

EMILY. I'll not have the food kept back any longer for Luke Jenner.

If folk can't come to the time when they're asked, they baint worth waiting for, so sit you down, all of you.

[She sits down at the head of the table, a child on either side of her. JOAN languidly sinks into a chair and MILES puts himself at her right. A place at her left remains empty. THOMAS sits opposite.

Three places at the end of the table are left vacant. As they sit down, GEORGE, wearing a new smock and neck handkerchief, comes in.

EMILY. [Beginning to help a dish.] You need not think you're to be helped first, Clara, for all that the party is given for you, like.

The poor little children have been kept waiting a sad time for their supper, first because you was such a while a having your head curled and puffed out, and then 'twas Luke Jenner as didn't come.

[CLARA sits down at a place at the end of the table. GEORGE and MAGGIE still remain standing.

EMILY. [Perceiving CLARA'S movement.] Well, I never did see anything so forward. Who told you to sit yourself down along of your betters, if you please, madam serving maid?

[GEORGE comes involuntarily forward and stands behind CLARA'S chair.

CLARA does not move.

EMILY. Get you out of that there place this instant, do you hear?

[Turning to MILES.] To see the way the young person acts one might think as she fancied herself as something uncommon rare and high.

But you'll not take any fool in, not you, for all that you like to play the fine lady. Us can see through your game very clear, can't us, Mr. Hooper?

MILES. O certainly, to be sure, Missis Spring. No one who has the privilege of being acquainted with a real lady of quality could be mistook by any of the games played by this young person.

[CLARA looks him gravely in the face without moving.

EMILY. Get up, do you hear, and help Maggie pa.s.s the dishes!

THOMAS. [Nervously.] Nay, nay, 'twas my doing, Emily. I did tell the wenches as they might sit their-selves along of we, just for th'

occasion like.

EMILY. And who are you, if you please, giving orders and muddling about like a lord in my kitchen?

THOMAS. [Faintly.] Come, Emily, I'm the master.

EMILY. And I, the mistress. Hear that, you piece of London impudence?

GEORGE. [Comes forward.] Master Luke be coming up the garden, mistress.

[LUKE JENNER enters. He goes straight up to JOAN and holds out his hand to her, and then to MILES.

LUKE. I do wish you happiness with all my heart, Miss Clara. Miles, my lad, 'tis rare--rare pleased as I be to shake your hand this day.

EMILY. Come, come, Luke Jenner, you've been and kept us waiting more nor half an hour. Can't you sit yourself down and give other folk a chance of eating their victuals quiet? There's naught to make all this giddle-gaddle about as I can see.

LUKE. [Sitting down in the empty place by JOAN'S side.] Beg pardon, mistress, I know I'm a bit late. But the victuals as are waited for do have a better flavour to them nor those which be ate straight from the pot like.

THOMAS. That's true 'tis. And 'tis hunger as do make the best sauce.

[GEORGE and MAGGIE quietly seat themselves on either side of CLARA.

EMILY is too busy dispensing the food to take any notice. GEORGE hands plates and dishes to CLARA, and silently cares for her comfort throughout the meal.

THOMAS. Well, Emily; well, Luke. I didn't think to lose my little sister afore she'd stopped a three days in the place. That I did not. But I don't grudge her to a fine prospering young man like friend Hooper, no, I don't.

EMILY. No one called upon you for a speech, Thomas. See if you can't make yourself of some use in pa.s.sing the green stuff. [Turning to LUKE.] We have two serving maids and a man, Mister Jenner, but they're to be allowed to act the quality to-day, so we've got to wait upon ourselves.

LUKE. A man is never so well served as by his own two hands, mistress. That's my saying at home.

THOMAS. And a good one too, Luke, my boy, for most folk, but with me 'tis otherwise. I've got another pair of hands in the place as do for me as well, nor better than my own.

EMILY. Yes, Thomas, I often wonders where you'd be without mine.

THOMAS. I wasn't thinking of yourn, Emily. 'Tis George's hands as I was speaking of.

EMILY. [Contemptuously.] George! You'll all find out your mistake one day, Thomas.

MILES. [To JOAN, who has been nervously handling her knife and fork and watching CLARA'S movements furtively.] My sweet Miss is not shewing any appet.i.te.

JOAN. I'm--I'm not used to country fare.

EMILY. O, I hear you, Clara. Thomas, this is very fine. Clara can't feed 'cause she's not used to country fare! What next, I'd like to know!

ROBIN. [Who has been watching JOAN.] Why does Aunt sometimes put her knife in her mouth, Mother?

MILES. My good boy, 'tis plain you've never mixed among the quality or you would know that each London season has its own new fas.h.i.+on of acting. This summer 'tis the stylish thing to put on a countryfied mode at table.

JESSIE. Joan don't eat like that, Mister Hooper.

MILES. Joan's only a maid servant, Miss Jessie. You should learn to distinguish between such people and fine ladles like your aunt.

JOAN. [Forcing herself to be more animated.] Give me some fruit, Miles--I have no appet.i.te to-day for heavy food. 'Tis far too warm.

MILES. As for me, the only food I require is the sweet honey of my Missy's voice.

THOMAS. Ah, 'tis a grand thing to be a young man, Miles Hooper.

There was a day when such things did come handy to my tongue, like.

EMILY. [Sharply.] I don't seem to remember that day, Thomas.

THOMAS. [Sheepishly, his look falling.] Ah--'twas afore--afore our courting time, Emily.

LUKE. [Energetically.] Prime weather for the hay, farmer. I count as this dry will last until the whole of it be carried. [A knock is heard at the door.

THOMAS. Now who'll that be? Did you see anyone a-coming up the path, Mother?

EMILY. Do you expect me to be carving of the fowls and a-looking out of the window the same time, Thomas?

THOMAS. George, my lad, do you open the door and see who 'tis.