LUKE. I warrant as Emily do keep it afore him as how he was took in from off the road by th’ old farmer in his day. MILES. I flatter myself that I have a certain way with the ladies. They come to me confidential like and I tell them what’s what, and how that, this or t’other is worn about town. But with Missis Spring ’tis different. That’s a woman I could never get the right side of no how. LUKE. Ah, poor Thomas! There’s a man who goes down trod and hen scratched if you like. MILES. ’Tis altogether a very poor place up at Ox Lease, for young Miss. LUKE. [_Pulling out his watch_.] Time’s slipping on. What if we were to stroll on to the shop and see about my neckerchief, Miles? MILES. I’m sure I’m quite agreeable, Luke. ’Twill help to pass away the morning. [_He puts his arm in_ LUKE’S _and they go briskly off in the direction of the village_. ACT I.—Scene 2. CLARA, _followed by_ JOAN, _comes through the wood_. CLARA _is dressed in a long_, _rich cloak and wears a bonnet that is brightly trimmed with feathers and ribbons_. JOAN _wears a cotton bonnet and small shawl_. _She carries her mistress’s silken bag over her arm_. CLARA. [_Pointing to the fallen tree_.] There is the very resting place for us. We will sit down under the trees for a while. [_She seats herself_. JOAN. [_Dusting the tree with her handkerchief before she sits on it_.] Have we much further to go, mistress? CLARA. Only a mile or two, so far as I can remember. JOAN. ’Tis rough work for the feet, down in these parts, mistress. CLARA. If London roads were paved with diamonds I’d sooner have my feet treading this rugged way that leads to home. JOAN. What sort of a place shall we find it when we gets there, mistress. CLARA. I was but seven when I left them all, Joan. And that is fourteen years ago to-day. JOAN. So many years may bring about some powerful big changes, mistress. CLARA. But I dream that I shall find all just as it was when I went away. Only that Gran’ma won’t be there. [_There is a short silence during which_ CLARA _seems lost in thought_. JOAN _flicks the dust off her shoes with a branch of leaves_. JOAN. ’Tis the coaches I do miss down in these parts. CLARA. I would not have driven one step of the way this morning, Joan. In my fancy I have been walking up from the village and through the wood and over the meadows since many a day. I have not forgotten one turn of the path. JOAN. The road has not changed then, mistress? CLARA. No. But it does not seem quite so broad or so fine as I remembered it to be. That is all. JOAN. And very likely the house won’t seem so fine neither, mistress, after the grand rooms which you have been used to. JOAN. What company shall we see there, mistress? CLARA. Well, there’s Thomas, he is my brother, and Emily his wife. Then the two children. CLARA. [_After a short silence_, _and as though to herself_.] And there was George. JOAN. Yes, mistress