Robin.  I’ll help too, when I have finished looking at my book.

[Emily goes out.  Clara sits down by the table and takes up a potato and the knife and slowly and awkwardly sets to work.  Jessie stands by her watching.

Jessie.  You mustn’t take no account of Mother when she speaks so sharp.  ’Tis only her way.

Robin.  Could you come and be our serving maid when Maggie’s sent off?

Clara.  O I should be too slow and awkward at the work, I think.

Jessie.  Yes, you don’t do them taters very nice.

Robin.  That don’t matter, I like you, and you can tell me fine things about other parts.

Jessie.  Georgie can tell of fine things too.  See, there he comes with the vegetables from the garden.

[George comes in with a large basket of vegetables, which he sets down in the back kitchen.  Then he stands at the door, silently watching the group near the table.

Jessie.  Come here, Georgie, and let Joan hear some of the tales out of what you do sing.

George.  What would mistress say if she was to catch me at my songs this time of day?

Jessie.  Mother’s gone upstairs, she won’t know nothing.

Robin.  Come you here, George, and look at my fine book what Aunt have brought me.

George. [Slowly approaching the table.] That be a brave, fine book of pictures, Master Robin.

Robin. [Holding up the open book.] I don’t fancy Aunt Clara much, but I likes her better nor I did because of this book.

[George’s eyes wander from the book to Clara as she bends over her work.

Jessie.  Joan doesn’t know how to do them very nicely, does she George!

George.  ’Tis the first time you’ve been set down to such work, may be, mistress.

Jessie.  You mustn’t say “mistress” to Joan, you know.  Why, Mother would be ever so angry if she was to hear you.  Joan’s only a servant.

Clara. [Looking up.] Like you, George.

George. [Steadily.] What I was saying is—­’Tis the first time as you have been set afore a bowl of taters like this.

Clara.  You are right, George.  It is the first time since—­since I was quite a little child.  And I think I’m very clumsy at my work.

George.  No one could work with them laces a-falling down all over their fingers.

Jessie.  You should turn back your sleeves for kitchen work, Joan, same as Maggie does.

George.  Yes, you should turn back your sleeves, Miss Joan.

[Joan puts aside the knife and basket, turns back her sleeves, and then resumes her work.  George’s eyes are rivetted on her hands and arms for a moment.  Then he turns as though to go away.