[ISABEL _fills the mug and puts it by his side_. LIZ. As good as any I ever tasted. JANE. Couldn’t better it at the King’s Head up our way. JOHN. Good drink—plenty of it. Now we’ll start upon the meat I reckon. [_He takes up a knife and fork and begins to carve_, _and_ LUBIN _hands round plates_. _During this_ ROBERT’S _gaze restlessly wanders about the room_, _finally fixing itself on_ ISABEL, _who presently goes out to the back kitchen with plates_. ROBERT. The new serving maid you’ve got there, Rose, should wear a cap and not her bonnet. ROSE. How sharp you are to notice anything. ROBERT. A very pretty looking wench, from what I can see. ROSE. [_Speaking more to the cousins than to_ ROBERT.] O she’s but a rough and untrained girl got in all of a hurry. Not at all the sort I’ve been used to in this house, I can tell you. [ISABEL _comes back with fresh plates and stands at the side table_. LIZ. [_To_ JANE.] A mellower piece of pig meat I never did taste, sister. JANE. I’m sorry I went and took the poultry. KITTY. John will carve you some ham if you’d like to try it, Miss Jane. JANE. I’m sure I’m much obliged. [JEREMY _comes in_.] JEREMY. [_Coming to the back of_ JANE’S _chair_.] Don’t you get mixing of your meats is what I says. Commence with ham and finish with he. That’s what do suit the inside of a delicate female. JANE. [_Looking up admiringly_.] Now that’s just what old Uncle he did used to say. JEREMY. Old uncle did know what he was a-talking about then. LIZ. [_Warming and looking less awkward and ill at ease_.] ’Twas the gout what kept Uncle so low in his eating, ’twas not th’ inclination of him. JEREMY. Ah ’twouldn’t be the gout nor any other disease as would keep me from a platter of good food. JOHN. Nor from your mug of drink neither, Jerry. [JEREMY _laughs and moves off to the side table_. LIZ. A very pleasant sort of man. JANE. I do like anyone what’s homely. JOHN. [_Calling out heartily_.] Do you listen to that, Jerry! The ladies here do find you pleasant and homely, and I don’t know what else. JEREMY. The mugs want filling once more. [_He stolidly goes round the table refilling the mugs_. ROSE’S _gaze wanders about her_. ROSE. [_To_ ROBERT.] That’s not a bad looking figure of a man— ROBERT. Who? ROSE. Well—the new farm hand. ROBERT. A sulky looking brute. I’d not let him wear his hat to table if I was master here. ROSE. He puts me in mind of—well—there, I can’t recollect who ’tis. [_A knock is heard at the door_. ROSE. [_Sharply to_ ISABEL.] Go and see who ’tis, Lucy. [ISABEL _opens the door_, _and_ MARY MEADOWS _stands on the threshold_, _a large nosegay of beautiful wild flowers in her hand_. JOHN. [_Rising up in great pleasure_.] You’re late, Mary. But you’re welcome as the—as the very sunshine. ROSE. Set another place, Lucy. MARY. Not for me, Rose. I did not come here to eat or drink, but to bring you these few blossoms and my love.