ROBIN. [_Holding up the open book_.] I don’t fancy Aunt Clara much, but I likes her better nor I did because of this book. [GEORGE’S _eyes wander from the book to_ CLARA _as she bends over her work_. JESSIE. Joan doesn’t know how to do them very nicely, does she George! GEORGE. ’Tis the first time you’ve been set down to such work, may be, mistress. JESSIE. You mustn’t say “mistress” to Joan, you know. Why, Mother would be ever so angry if she was to hear you. Joan’s only a servant. CLARA. [_Looking up_.] Like you, George. GEORGE. [_Steadily_.] What I was saying is—’Tis the first time as you have been set afore a bowl of taters like this. CLARA. You are right, George. It is the first time since—since I was quite a little child. And I think I’m very clumsy at my work. GEORGE. No one could work with them laces a-falling down all over their fingers. JESSIE. You should turn back your sleeves for kitchen work, Joan, same as Maggie does. GEORGE. Yes, you should turn back your sleeves, Miss Joan. [JOAN _puts aside the knife and basket_, _turns back her sleeves_, _and then resumes her work_. GEORGE’S _eyes are rivetted on her hands and arms for a moment_. _Then he turns as though to go away_. JESSIE. Don’t go away, Georgie. Come and tell us how you like Aunt Clara now that she’s growed into such a grand lady. GEORGE. [_Coming back to the table_.] I don’t like nothing about her, Miss Jessie. JESSIE. Is Aunt very much changed from when she did use to ride the big horses to the trough, Georgie? ROBIN. And from the time when th’ old gander did take a big piece right out of her arm, Georgie? GEORGE. [_His eyes on_ CLARA’S _bent head_.] I count her be wonderful changed, like. JESSIE. So that you would scarce know her? GEORGE. So that I should scarce know she. JESSIE. She have brought Mother a silken gown and me a string of coral beads. But naught for you, Georgie. GEORGE. I reckon as Miss Clara have not kept me in her remembrance like. CLARA. [_With sudden earnestness_.] O that she has, George. JESSIE. She didn’t seem to know him by her looks. CLARA. Looks often speak but poorly for the heart. ROBIN. [_Who has been watching_ CLARA.] See there, Joan. You’ve been and cut that big tater right in half. Mother will be cross. CLARA. O dear, I am thoughtless. One cannot work and talk at the same time. GEORGE. [_Taking basket and knife from her and seating himself on the edge of the table_.] Here,—give them all to me. I understand such work, and ’tis clear that you do not. I’ll finish them off in a few minutes, and mistress will never be the wiser. CLARA. O thank you, George, but am I to go idle? GEORGE. You can take up with that there white sewing if you have a mind. ’Tis more suited to your hands nor this rough job. [CLARA _puts down her sleeves and takes up her needlework_. JESSIE. Sing us a song, George, whilst you do the taters.