[Joan, between miles Hooper and Luke Jenner, comes up to the open door.

Miles. [To Jessie.] See here, my little maid, what’ll you give
Mister Hooper for bringing this pretty lady safe up to the farm?

Jessie.  I know who ’tis you’ve brought.  ’Tis my Aunt Clara.

Luke.  You’re a smart little wench, if ever there was one.

Robin.  I know who ’tis, too, ’cause of the spangled plumes in the bonnet of she.  Mother said as there’d be some.

Emily. [Coming forward.] Well, Clara, if ’twas by the morning coach as you did come, you’re late.  If ‘twas by th’ evening one, you’re too soon by a good few hours.

Miles.  Having come by the morning coach, Miss Clara had the pleasant fancy to stroll here through the woodlands, Missis Spring.

Luke.  Ah, and ’twas lost on the way as we did find her, like a strayed sheep.

Miles.  And ours has been the privilege to bring the fair wanderer safely home.

Emily. [Scornfully looking Joan over from head to foot.] Where’s that serving wench of yours got to, Clara?

Miles.  Our young missy had a wish for solitude.  She sent her maid on by another road.

Emily.  The good-for-nothing hussy.  I warrant as she have found something of mischief for her idle hands to do.

Miles.  If I may venture to say so, our Miss Clara is somewhat fatigued by her long stroll.  London young ladies are very delicately framed, Missis Spring.

Emily. [Pointing ungraciously.] There’s chairs right in front of you.

[Miles and Luke lead Joan forward, placing her in an armchair with every attention.  Joan sinks into it, and, taking a little fan from the silken bag on her arm, begins to fan herself violently.

Emily. [Watching her with fierce contempt.] Maybe as you’d like my kitchen wench to come and do that for you, Clara, seeing as your fine maid is gadding about the high roads instead of minding what it concerns her to attend to.

Joan. [Faintly.] O no, thank you.  The day is rather warm—­that’s all.

Emily.  Warm, I should think it was warm in under of that great white curtain.

Jessie.  Aunt Clara, I’m Jessie.

Joan.  Are you, my dear?

Robin.  And I’m Robin.

Miles.  Now, I wager, if you are both good little children, this pretty lady will give you each a kiss.

Joan. [Faintly.] To be sure I will.

Jessie.  Then you’ll have to take off that white thing from your face.  ’Tis like what mother do spread over the currant bushes to keep the birds from the fruit.

[Joan slowly raises her veil, showing her face.