Clara. I don’t believe in such signs, myself.
Maggie. I never knowed it not come true.
[Thomas comes in. He is wearing his best clothes and looks pleased, yet nervous.
Thomas. Well, maids. Upon my word ’tis a spread. Never saw so many different vituals brought together all at a time afore in this house.
Maggie. ’Tis in honour of Miss Clara’s going to be married like, master.
Thomas. So ’tis, so ’tis. Well—A single rose upon the bush. Bound to be plucked, you know. Couldn’t be left to fade in the sun, eh, girls?
Clara. Where shall Maggie and me stop whilst the supper is going on, master? Mistress has not told us yet.
Thomas. [Nervously.] Mistress haven’t told you—haven’t she? Well—well—at such a time we must all—all rejoice one with t’other, like. No difference made t’wixt master and man. Nor t’wixt maid and missus. Down at the far end of the table you can sit yourselves, my wenches. Up against George—How’s that?
Clara. That will do very well for us, Master.
Maggie. I don’t expect as missus will let we bide there long.