Miles. [Rising and speaking with cold deliberation.] Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honour to wish you all a very pleasant evening.

Thomas.  Come, come Miles, we be all a bit turned in the head, it seems.  But things’ll settle back to their right places if you gives them a chance.  Sit you down and take a drink of sommat.

Emily.  Don’t be so foolish, Thomas.  As if a man what’s been stung by a wasp would care to sit himself down on a hornet’s nest.

Miles.  You are perfectly right, madam.  This is no place for me.  I have been sported with.  My good name has been treated as a jest.

Joan.  O Mister Hooper, ’twas my doing, all of it, but I did it for the best, I did.

Miles. [Going to the door.] Thank you, my good woman.  Next time you want to play a little prank like this, I beg that you will select your partner with more care.  The name of Hooper is not a suitable one to toy with, let me tell you.

Robin.  Aren’t you going to marry her then, Mister Hooper?

Miles.  I am not, Master Robin.

Jessie.  You said as you could tell a real lady by her ways, but you couldn’t very well, could he, Mother?

[Miles, covering his mortification with sarcastic bows made to the right and left, goes out.  Joan leans back almost fainting in her chair.

Luke. [Taking her hand.] This is the finest hearing in all the world for me, Miss—­Miss Joan.

Joan.  O Mr. Jenner, how deep you must despise me.

Luke.  And that I’d never do, though I’m blest if I know why you did it.

Clara.  It was as much my fault as hers, Mister Jenner.  There were things that each of us wanted, and that we thought we might get, by changing places, one with the other.

Thomas. [To Clara.] Well, my maid, I’m blessed if I do know what you was a hunting about for, dressed up as a serving wench.

Clara. [Turning a little towards George.] I thought to find something which was mine when I was a little child, but which I lost.

Jessie.  O Georgie do know how to find things which is lost.  ’Twas he as brought back the yellow pullet when her had strayed off.

Robin.  Yes.  And ’twas George as did find your blue hair ribbon Aunt Clara, when it was dropped in the hayfield.

Jessie.  I believe as Georgie knowed which of them was our aunt all the time.

Robin.  I believe it too.

Thomas.  Why, George, you sly dog, what put you on the scent, like?

George.  ’Twas not one, but many things.  And if you wants a clear proof [Turning to Clara]—­put back the laces of your sleeve, Miss Clara.

Clara.  What for, George?

George.  Whilst you was a-doing of the taters, this morning, you did pull up your sleeves.  ’Twas then I held the proof.  Not that ’twas needed for me, like.