Burlacombe.  I ‘ope yu won’t take no notice of it.  Like a lot o’ silly bees they get. [After an uneasy pause] Yu’ll excuse me spakin’ of this mornin’, an’ what ’appened.  ’Tes a brave pity it cam’ on yu so sudden-like before yu ’ad time to think.  ’Tes a sort o’ thing a man shude zet an’ chew upon.  Certainly ‘tes not a bit o’ yuse goin’ against human nature.  Ef yu don’t stand up for yureself there’s no one else not goin’ to.  ’Tes yure not ‘avin’ done that ’as made ’em so rampageous. [Stealing another look at Strangway] Yu’ll excuse me, zurr, spakin’ of it, but ‘tes amazin’ sad to zee a man let go his own, without a word o’ darin’.  ’Tea as ef ’e ’ad no passions like.

Strangway.  Look at me, Burlacombe.

     [Burlacombe looks up, trying hard to keep his eyes on
     Strangway’s, that seem to burn in his thin face.]

Strangway.  Do I look like that?  Please, please! [He touches his breast] I’ve too much here.  Please!

Burlacombe. [With a sort of startled respect] Well, zurr, ’tes not for me to zay nothin’, certainly.

     [He turns and after a slow look back at Strangway goes out.]

Strangway. [To himself] Passions!  No passions!  Ha!

     [The outer door is opened and ivy Burlacombe appears, and,
     seeing him, stops.  Then, coming softly towards him, she speaks
     timidly.]

Ivy.  Oh!  Mr. Strangway, Mrs. Bradmere’s cumin’ from the Rectory.  I ran an’ told ’em.  Oh! ’twas awful.

[Strangway starts, stares at her, and turning on his heel, goes into the house.  Ivy’s face is all puckered, as if she were on the point of tears.  There is a gentle scratching at the door, which has not been quite closed.]

Voice of Gladys. [Whispering] Ivy!  Come on Ivy.  I won’t.

Voice of mercy.  Yu must.  Us can’t du without Yu.

Ivy. [Going to the door] I don’t want to.

Voice of Gladys.  “Naughty maid, she won’t come out,” Ah! du ’ee!

Voice of Cremer.  Tim Clyst an’ Bobbie’s cumin’; us’ll only be six anyway.  Us can’t dance “figure of eight” without yu.

Ivy. [Stamping her foot] I don’t want to dance at all!  I don’t.

Mercy.  Aw!  She’s temper.  Yu can bang on tambourine, then!

Gladys. [Running in] Quick, Ivy!  Here’s the old grey mare cumin’ down the green.  Quick.

     [With whispering and scuffling; gurgling and squeaking, the
     reluctant Ivy’s hand is caught and she is jerked away.  In their
     haste they have left the door open behind them.]

Voice of Mrs. Bradmere. [Outside] Who’s that?

     [She knocks loudly, and rings a bell; then, without waiting,
     comes in through the open door.]