Clara.  You’ll soon get over that, Joan.

Joan.  And I don’t care for poultry neither, very much.  I goes full of fear when I hears one of they old turkey cocks stamping about.

Clara. [Pulling up the sleeve of her left arm.] There, do you see this little scar?  I was helping George to feed the ducks and geese when the fierce gander ran after me and knocked me down and took a piece right out of my arm.

Joan. [Looking intently on the scar.] I have often seen that there mark, mistress.  And do you think as that old gander will be living along of the poultry still?

Clara.  I wish he might be, Joan.

Joan.  What with the cows and the horses and the ganders, we shall go with our lives in our hands, as you might say.

Clara. [As though to herself.] When the days got colder, we would sit under the straw rick, George and I. And he would sing to me.  Some of his songs, I could say off by heart this day.

Joan. [Looking nervously upward.] O do look at that nasty little thing dropping down upon us from a piece of thread silk.  Who ever put such a thing up in the tree I’d like to know.

Clara. [Brushing it gently aside.] That won’t hurt you—­a tiny caterpillar.

Joan. [After a moment.] What more could the farm hand do, mistress?

Clara.  He would clasp on his bells and dance in the Morris on certain days, Joan.

Joan.  ’Tis to be hoped as there’ll be some dancing or something to liven us all up a bit down here.

Clara.  Why, Joan, I believe you’re tired already of the country.

Joan.  ’Tis so powerful quiet and heavy like, mistress.

Clara.  ’Tis full of sounds.  Listen to the doves in the trees and the lambs calling from the meadow.

Joan.  I’d sooner have the wheels of the coaches and the cries upon the street, and the door bell a ringing every moment and fine gentlemen and ladies being shewn up into the parlour.

Clara. [Stretching out her arms.] O how glad I am to be free of all that.  And most of all, how glad to be ridded of one person.

Joan.  His lordship will perhaps follow us down here, mistress.

Clara.  No, I have forbidden it.  I must have a month of quiet, and he is to wait that time for his answer.

Joan.  O mistress, you’ll never disappoint so fine a gentleman.

Clara.  You forget that Lord Lovel and I have played together as children.  It is as a brother that I look upon him.

Joan.  His lordship don’t look upon you as a sister, mistress.

Clara. [Rising.] That is a pity, Joan.  But see, it is getting late and we must be moving onwards.

[Joan rises and smoothes and shakes out her skirt.