Six Plays by Lady Florence Henrietta Fisher Darwin Part 34

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 G.o.dmother. 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?

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.

[CLARA pushes up both her sleeves, and holds out her arms towards GEORGE.

GEORGE. [Pointing to the scar.] There 'tis--there's where th' old gander have left his mark.

THE CHILDREN. [Getting up.] Where, where! O do let us see!

[They run round to where CLARA stands and look eagerly at the mark on her arm which she shews to them.

THOMAS. George, my lad, you baint th' only one as can play fox.

EMILY. Don't you be so set up as to think as you can, Thomas. For a more foolish figure of a goose never was cut. A man might tell when 'twas his own sister, if so be as he had his full senses upon him.

THOMAS. Never you mind, Emily. What I says to George is, he baint th' only fox. How now, my lad?

GEORGE. I don't see what you be driving at, master.

THOMAS. [Slyly.] What about that bit of blue ribbon, George?

CLARA. Yes, Thomas. Ask Georgie if he will give it back to me.

GEORGE. [Stepping forward till he is by CLARA'S side.] No, and that I will not do. 'Tis little enough as I holds, but what little, I'll keep it.

CLARA. [To GEORGE.] Those words are like a frail bridge on which I can stand for a moment. Georgie, do you remember the days when you used to lead me by the hand into the deep parts of the wood, lifting me over the briars and the brambles so that I should not be hurt by their thorns?

GEORGE. Hark you here, Clara. This once I'll speak. I never had but one true love, and that was a little maid what would run through the woods and over all the meadows, her hand in mine. I learnt she the note of every bird. And when th' evening was come, us would watch together till th' old mother badger did get from out of her hole, and start hunting in the long gra.s.ses.

CLARA. [Taking GEORGE'S hand.] Then, Georgie, there was no need for the disguise that I put upon myself.

GEORGE. Do you think as the moon can hide her light when there baint no cloud upon the sky, Clara?

CLARA. Georgie, I went in fear of what this gold and silver might raise up between you and me.