CLARA. Yes, that you had. We will go upstairs together and I will help you change into another gown. Come quickly so that we may have plenty of time. [_They go towards the staircase door_, CLARA _leading the way_. _With her hand on the latch of the door she gives one look round the kitchen_. _Then with a sudden movement she goes up to the wooden armchair at the hearth and bends her head till her lips touch it_, _she then runs upstairs_, _followed by_ JOAN. ACT II.—Scene 2. _After a few moments_ MILES HOOPER _and_ LUKE JENNER _come into the kitchen_. _They both look round the room enquiringly_. LUKE. Ah, she be still up above with that there serving wench what’s come. MILES. My good man, you didn’t expect our fair miss to have finished her toilet under an hour, did you? LUKE. I don’t see what there was to begin on myself, let alone finish. MILES. ’Tis clear you know little of the ways of our town beauties, Luke. LUKE. Still, I mean to have my try with her, Miles Hooper. MILES. [_Sarcastically_.] I’m quite agreeable, Mister Jenner. [THOMAS _and_ GEORGE _come in_. GEORGE _carries a bucket of water_. THOMAS. Where’s the little maid got to? George and me be come up from the field on purpose for to bid her welcome home. MILES. Miss is still at her toilet, farmer. [JOAN, _in a flowered silk gown_, _comes slowly and carefully into the room_, _followed by_ CLARA, _who carries a lace shawl over one arm_. _She has put on a large white apron_, _but wears nothing on her head but the narrow blue ribbon_. _During the following scene she stands quietly_, _half hidden by the door_. [JOAN _looks nervously round the room_, _then she draws herself up very haughtily_. MILES _comes forward and bows low_. THOMAS. [_Looking_ JOAN _up and down_.] Well, bless my soul, who’d have guessed at the change it do make in a wench? JOAN. [_Holding out her hand_, _very coldly_.] A good afternoon to you, sir. THOMAS. [_Taking her hand slowly_.] Upon my word, but you might knock me over. MILES. Miss has grown into a very superb young lady, Thomas. THOMAS. [_Still looking at her_.] That may be so, yet ’twasn’t as such I had figured she in the eye of my mind, like. [_There is a moment’s silence_. THOMAS. George, my boy, you and sister Clara used to be up to rare games one with t’other once on a time. [_Turning to_ JOAN.] There, my wench, I count you’ve not forgotten Georgie? JOAN. I’m afeared I’ve not much of a memory. THOMAS. Shake hands, my maid, and very like as the memory will come back to roost same as the fowls do. JOAN. [_Bowing coldly_.] Good afternoon, George. MILES. [_Aside to Luke_.] Now that’s what I call a bit of stylish breeding.