John.  You’re right there, Kitty, that you are.  A harder head was never given to man than what Jerry do carry twixt his shoulders.

[Lubin and Isabel here put round the mugs of cider, and everyone drinks thirstily.  Isabel stands behind the chairs of rose and Robert and Lubin at john’s side.

Robert. [Setting down his mug.] There’s a drink what can’t be got in foreign parts.

Rose. [Looking fondly at him.] Let the maid fill your mug again, my dear one.

Robert. [Carelessly handing it to Isabel.] I don’t mind if I do have another swill.

[Isabel fills the mug and puts it by his side.

Liz.  As good as any I ever tasted.

Jane.  Couldn’t better it at the King’s Head up our way.

John.  Good drink—­plenty of it.  Now we’ll start upon the meat I reckon.

[He takes up a knife and fork and begins to carve, and Lubin hands round plates.  During this Robert’s gaze restlessly wanders about the room, finally fixing itself on Isabel, who presently goes out to the back kitchen with plates.

Robert.  The new serving maid you’ve got there, Rose, should wear a cap and not her bonnet.

Rose.  How sharp you are to notice anything.

Robert.  A very pretty looking wench, from what I can see.

Rose. [Speaking more to the cousins than to Robert.] O she’s but a rough and untrained girl got in all of a hurry.  Not at all the sort I’ve been used to in this house, I can tell you.

[Isabel comes back with fresh plates and stands at the side table.

Liz. [To Jane.] A mellower piece of pig meat I never did taste, sister.

Jane.  I’m sorry I went and took the poultry.

Kitty.  John will carve you some ham if you’d like to try it, Miss
Jane.

Jane.  I’m sure I’m much obliged.

[Jeremy comes in.]

Jeremy. [Coming to the back of Jane’s chair.] Don’t you get mixing of your meats is what I says.  Commence with ham and finish with he.  That’s what do suit the inside of a delicate female.

Jane. [Looking up admiringly.] Now that’s just what old Uncle he did used to say.

Jeremy.  Old uncle did know what he was a-talking about then.

Liz. [Warming and looking less awkward and ill at ease.] ’Twas the gout what kept Uncle so low in his eating, ‘twas not th’ inclination of him.

Jeremy.  Ah ’twouldn’t be the gout nor any other disease as would keep me from a platter of good food.

John.  Nor from your mug of drink neither, Jerry.

[Jeremy laughs and moves off to the side table.

Liz.  A very pleasant sort of man.