Clara. Come, you must take heart and throw yourself into the acting. Try to be as a sister would with Thomas. Be lively, and kind in your way with the children.
Joan. I tries to be like old Madam Lovel was, when I talks with them.
Clara. That cross, rough mode of hers sits badly on any one young, Joan. Be more of yourself, but make little changes in your manner here and there.
Joan. [With a heavy sigh.] ’Tis the here and the there as I finds it so hard to manage.
Jessie. [Running in breathlessly.] A letter, a letter for Aunt Clara. [Clara involuntarily puts out her hand.] No, Joan. I was to give it to Aunt Clara herself. I’ve run all the way.
[Joan slowly takes the letter, looking confused.
Jessie. Will you read it now, Aunt?
Joan. Run away, little girl, I don’t want no children worriting round me now. [Suddenly recollecting herself and forcing herself to speak brightly.] I mean—no, my dear little girl, I’d rather wait to read it till I’m by myself; but thank you very kindly all the same, my pet.
Jessie. O, but I should like to hear the letter read, so much.
Joan. Never mind. Run along back to mother, there’s a sweet little maid.