Joan. [Looking up radiantly.] O that it is, dear Luke.
Lord Lovel. Miss Clara, it seems that there is nothing more to be said.
Emily. And that’s the most sensible thing as has been spoke this long while. Thomas, your sister favours you in being a poor, grizzling sort of a muddler. She might have took up with this young man, who has a very respectable appearance.
Lord Lovel. [Coming forward to George and shaking his hand.] I’m proud to make your acquaintance, sir.
Emily. [Rising angrily.] Come Thomas, come Luke, come Clara. Us might be a barn full of broody hens the way we be set around of this here table. ’Twill be midnight afore the things is cleared away and washed up.
Thomas. What if it be, Emily. ’Tisn’t very often as I gets the chance of minding how ’twas in times gone past. Ah, I was a young man in those days, too, I was.
Emily. And ’tis a rare old addle head as you be got now, Thomas.
Jessie. [Slipping her hand into Thomas’s.] O do let us sit up till midnight, Dad.
Robin. I shall eat a smartish lot more if we does.
[Curtain.]