Clara. Only a mile or two, so far as I can remember.
Joan. ’Tis rough work for the feet, down in these parts, mistress.
Clara. If London roads were paved with diamonds I’d sooner have my feet treading this rugged way that leads to home.
Joan. What sort of a place shall we find it when we gets there, mistress.
Clara. I was but seven when I left them all, Joan. And that is fourteen years ago to-day.
Joan. So many years may bring about some powerful big changes, mistress.
Clara. But I dream that I shall find all just as it was when I went away. Only that Gran’ma won’t be there.
[There is a short silence during which Clara seems lost in thought. Joan flicks the dust off her shoes with a branch of leaves.
Joan. ’Tis the coaches I do miss down in these parts.
Clara. I would not have driven one step of the way this morning, Joan. In my fancy I have been walking up from the village and through the wood and over the meadows since many a day. I have not forgotten one turn of the path.