Joan. [To Luke.] O Mister—Mister Jenner, I feel so faint.
Miles. [Taking her fan.] Allow me. [He begins to fan her.] I assure you she means nothing by it. It’s her way. You see, she knows no better.
Luke. I’d fetch out summat for her to eat if I was you, missis. ’Tis famished as the poor young maid must be.
Emily. She should have come when ’twas meal time then. I don’t hold with bites nor drinks in between whiles.
Joan. O I’m dying for a glass of milk—or water would do as well.
Miles. My dear young lady—anything to oblige. [Turning to Jessie.] Come, my little maid, see if you can’t make yourself useful in bringing a tray of refreshment for your auntie. And you [turning to Robin] trot off and help sister.
Emily. Not if I know it. Stop where you are, Jess. Robin, you dare to move. If Clara wants to eat and drink I’m afeared she must wait till supper time.
Robin. There be chicken and sparrow grass for supper, Aunt.
Jessie. And a great pie of gooseberries.
Joan. [Faintly.] O I couldn’t touch a mouthful of food, don’t speak to me about it.