Emily. Yes, Thomas, I often wonders where you’d be without mine.
Thomas. I wasn’t thinking of yourn, Emily. ’Tis George’s hands as I was speaking of.
Emily. [Contemptuously.] George! You’ll all find out your mistake one day, Thomas.
Miles. [To Joan, who has been nervously handling her knife and fork and watching Clara’s movements furtively.] My sweet Miss is not shewing any appetite.
Joan. I’m—I’m not used to country fare.
Emily. O, I hear you, Clara. Thomas, this is very fine. Clara can’t feed ’cause she’s not used to country fare! What next, I’d like to know!
Robin. [Who has been watching Joan.] Why does Aunt sometimes put her knife in her mouth, Mother?
Miles. My good boy, ’tis plain you’ve never mixed among the quality or you would know that each London season has its own new fashion of acting. This summer ’tis the stylish thing to put on a countryfied mode at table.
Jessie. Joan don’t eat like that, Mister Hooper.
Miles. Joan’s only a maid servant, Miss Jessie. You should learn to distinguish between such people and fine ladles like your aunt.