Rose. Right what, Robert?
Robert. [Confused.] I hardly know what I was a-going to say, Rose. Suppose you was to take up your flowers and go to dress yourself. We might as well get it all over and finished with.
Rose. [Rising slowly.] Perhaps ’twould be best. I’ll go to my room, and you might call the girl Lucy and send her up to help me with my things.
Robert. Won’t you take the bouquet along of you?
Rose. No—let it bide there. I can have it later.
[She goes slowly from the room.
[Left to himself, Robert strolls to the open door and looks gloomily out on the garden. Suddenly his face brightens.
Robert. Lucy, Lucy, come you in here a moment.
Lucy. [From outside.] I be busy just now hanging out my cloths, master.
Robert. Leave your dish cloths to dry themselves. Your mistress wants you, Lucy.