[JOAN _looks at him irresolutely for a moment and then precipitately leaves the room_. [LUKE _folds his arms on the table and rests his head on them in an attitude of deepest despondency_. _After a few moments_ CLARA _enters_. CLARA. O, Mister Jenner, what has happened to you? LUKE. [_Raising his head and pointing to the window_.] There she goes, through the garden with her lover. CLARA. I wish that you were in his place. LUKE. [_Bitterly_.] I’ve no house with golden rails to offer her. Nor any horse and chaise. CLARA. But you carry a heart within you that is full of true love. LUKE. What use is the love which be fastened up in a man’s heart and can spend itself on naught, I’d like to know. [_He rises as though to go and take up the bunch of flowers which has been lying on the table_. _Brokenly_.] I brought them for her. But I count as he’ll have given her something better nor these. [CLARA _takes the flowers gently from his hand_, _and as she does so_, EMILY _enters_. EMILY. What now if you please! First with George and then with Luke. ’Twould be Thomas next if he wasn’t an old sheep of a man as wouldn’t know if an eye was cast on him or no. But I’ll soon put a stop to all this. Shame on you, Luke Jenner. And you, you fine piece of London vanity, I wants my kitchen to myself, do you hear, so off with you upstairs. [_She begins to move violently about the kitchen as the curtain falls_. ACT IV.—Scene 1. _The kitchen is decorated with bunches of flowers_. _A long table is spread with silver_, _china and food_. CLARA _is setting mugs to each place_. MAGGIE _comes in from the back kitchen with a large dish of salad_. MAGGIE. When folks do come down to the countryside they likes to enjoy themselves among the vegetables. CLARA. [_Placing the last mug_.] There—Now all is ready for them. MAGGIE. [_Bending over a place at the end of the table_.] Come you and look at this great old bumble-dore, Joan, what have flyed in through the window. CLARA. [_Goes to_ MAGGIE’S _side and bends down over the table_.] O what a beautiful thing. Look at the gold on him, and his legs are like feathers. MAGGIE. [_Taking the bee carefully up in a duster and letting it fly through the window_.] The sign of a stranger, so they do say. CLARA. A stranger, Maggie? MAGGIE. You mind my words, ’tis a stranger as’ll sit where yon was stuck, afore the eating be finished. CLARA. I don’t believe in such signs, myself. MAGGIE. I never knowed it not come true. [THOMAS _comes in_. _He is wearing his best clothes and looks pleased_, _yet nervous_. THOMAS. Well, maids. Upon my word ’tis a spread. Never saw so many different vituals brought together all at a time afore in this house. MAGGIE. ’Tis in honour of Miss Clara’s going to be married like, master. THOMAS. So ’tis, so ’tis. Well—A single rose upon the bush. Bound to be plucked, you know. Couldn’t be left to fade in the sun, eh, girls?