JOAN. [_Surveying the effect in the glass_.] Just to take off the brown of my freckles. Now if any one was to come upon me sitting here they wouldn’t know as I was other than a real, high lady. All covered with this nice cloak as I be, the French bonnet on my head, and powder to my face, who’s to tell the difference? But O—these must be hid first. [_She perceives her cotton bonnet and little shawl on the ground_. _She hastily rolls them up in a small bundle and stuffs them into the silken bag_. _Then she takes up the glass and surveys herself again_. JOAN. How should I act now if some grand gentleman was to come up and commence talking to me? Perhaps he might even take me for a lady of title in these fine clothes, and ’twould be a pity to have to undeceive him. [_She arranges her hair a little under the bonnet and then lowers the lace veil over her face_. [MILES _and_ LUKE _come slowly up behind her_. MILES _nudges_ LUKE _with his elbow_, _signing to him to remain where he is whilst he steps forward in front of_ JOAN. MILES. Pardon me, madam, but you appear to have mistook the way. Allow me to set you on the right path for Ox Lease. JOAN. [_Letting the mirror fall on her lap and speaking very low_.] How do you know I am going to Ox Lease, sir? MILES. You see, madam, I happen to know that a stylish young miss from town is expected there to-day. LUKE. [_Coming forward and speaking in a loud whisper_.] Now Miles. I count as you made one of the biggest blunders of the time. Our young lady be journeying along of her servant wench. This one baint she. MILES. If we have made a small error, madam, allow me to beg your pardon. JOAN. Don’t mention it, sir. Everyone is mistaken sometimes. LUKE. Well, I’m powerful sorry if we have given any offence, mam. JOAN. [_Looking up at_ LUKE _with sudden boldness and speaking in a slow_, _affected voice_.] There’s nothing to make so much trouble about, sir. MILES. Can we be of any assistance to you, madam? The wood may appear rather dense at this point. JOAN. That it does. Dense and dark—and the pathway! My goodness, but my feet have never travelled over such rough ground before. Muss. That I am sure of, madam. I have no doubt that the delicate texture of your shoes has been sadly treated by our stones and ruts. JOAN. [_Insensibly pulling her skirts over her thick walking shoes_.] Well, it’s vastly different to London streets, where I generally take exercise—at least when I’m not a-riding in the coach. MILES. The country is but a sad place at the best, Miss Clara Spring. JOAN. [_Looking round furtively and speaking in a whisper_.] O, how did you guess my—my name? LUKE. Come, ’twasn’t a hard matter, that. MILES. Missey can command my services. JOAN. [_Rallying_, _and standing up_.] Then gentlemen, do you walk a bit of the road with me and we could enjoy some conversation as we go along. LUKE. [_Offering his arm_.] You take my arm, Miss Clara—do—.