George.  She who be just gone from out of the room, Master Robin, and none other.

Thomas.  Come, George, this talk do sound so foolish.

George.  I can’t help that, master.  Foolish deeds do call for foolish words, may be.

Miles.  My pretty Miss is almost fainting, I declare. [He pours out water for Joan and bends affectionately over her.] Put the drunken fellow outside and let’s have an end of this.

George. [Advancing.] Yes, us’ll have an end to it very shortly.  But I be going to put a straight question to the maid first, and ’tis a straight answer as her’ll have to give me in reply.

Miles.  Not a word, not a word.  Miss is sadly upset by your rude manners.

George.  Do you ask of the young lady but one thing, Master Hooper, and then I’ll go when you will.

Miles.  Well, my man, what’s that?

George.  Do you get her to speak the name as was given she at baptism, Mister Hooper.

Miles.  This is madness.  My pretty Miss shall not be teased by such a question.  Thomas, you’ll have to get this stupid fellow locked up, or something.

George. [Angrily.] Her shall say it, if I stands here all night.

[Joan suddenly bends forward and hides her face in her hands, her form shaken by violent weeping.  The door opens and Clara enters followed by lord Lovel.  She has taken off her cap and apron.

Joan. [Raising her head and stretching out her hands to Clara.] O speak for me, mistress.  Speak for me and help.

Clara.  I am Clara, she is Joan.  Thomas, Emily, I pray you to forgive us both for taking you in like this.

Thomas.  Well, I never did hear tell of such a thing.

Emily.  I’m not going to believe a word the young person says.

Lord Lovel.  She has told you but the truth, my good friends.

Emily.  And who are you, to put your tongue into the basin, I’d like to know?

Clara.  This is the nephew of my dear godmother.  Lord Lovel is his name.

Emily.  If you think I’m going to be took in with such nonsense, the more fool you, I says.

Lord Lovel.  But all that Miss Clara tells you is true, Missis Spring.  She and her serving maid, for certain reasons of their own, agreed to change parts for a few days.

Thomas. [Turning to Joan.] Is this really so, my maid?

[Joan bows her head, her handkerchief still covering her face.

Thomas. [To Clara.] Who ever would have thought on such a thing?

Clara.  ’Twas a foolish enough thing, but no harm is done.  Look up, Joan, and do not cry so pitifully.

Joan. [Looking up at miles.] You’ll never go and change towards me now that we’re most as good as wed, will you, Mister Hooper?