Emily.  What now if you please!  First with George and then with Luke.  ’Twould be Thomas next if he wasn’t an old sheep of a man as wouldn’t know if an eye was cast on him or no.  But I’ll soon put a stop to all this.  Shame on you, Luke Jenner.  And you, you fine piece of London vanity, I wants my kitchen to myself, do you hear, so off with you upstairs.

[She begins to move violently about the kitchen as the curtain falls.

Act IV.—­Scene 1.

The kitchen is decorated with bunches of flowers.  A long table is spread with silver, china and food.  Clara is setting mugs to each place.  Maggie comes in from the back kitchen with a large dish of salad.

Maggie.  When folks do come down to the countryside they likes to enjoy themselves among the vegetables.

Clara. [Placing the last mug.] There—­Now all is ready for them.

Maggie. [Bending over a place at the end of the table.] Come you and look at this great old bumble-dore, Joan, what have flyed in through the window.

Clara. [Goes to Maggie’s side and bends down over the table.] O what a beautiful thing.  Look at the gold on him, and his legs are like feathers.

Maggie. [Taking the bee carefully up in a duster and letting it fly through the window.] The sign of a stranger, so they do say.

Clara.  A stranger, Maggie?

Maggie.  You mind my words, ’tis a stranger as’ll sit where yon was stuck, afore the eating be finished.

Clara.  I don’t believe in such signs, myself.

Maggie.  I never knowed it not come true.

[Thomas comes in.  He is wearing his best clothes and looks pleased, yet nervous.

Thomas.  Well, maids.  Upon my word ’tis a spread.  Never saw so many different vituals brought together all at a time afore in this house.

Maggie.  ’Tis in honour of Miss Clara’s going to be married like, master.

Thomas.  So ’tis, so ’tis.  Well—­A single rose upon the bush.  Bound to be plucked, you know.  Couldn’t be left to fade in the sun, eh, girls?

Clara.  Where shall Maggie and me stop whilst the supper is going on, master?  Mistress has not told us yet.

Thomas. [Nervously.] Mistress haven’t told you—­haven’t she?  Well--well—­at such a time we must all—­all rejoice one with t’other, like.  No difference made t’wixt master and man.  Nor t’wixt maid and missus.  Down at the far end of the table you can sit yourselves, my wenches.  Up against George—­How’s that?

Clara.  That will do very well for us, Master.

Maggie.  I don’t expect as missus will let we bide there long.

Thomas.  Look here, my wench, I be master in my own house, and at the asking in marriage of my only sister like, ’tis me as shall say what shall sit down with who.  And there’s an end of it.  That’s all.