Thomas. Nay, nay. George is not the lad to do a thing like that. A quieter more well bred up lad nor George never trod in shoes.
Emily [Glancing at Maggie.] What are you tossing your head like that for, Maggie? Please to recollect as you’re a lazy, good-for-nothing little slut of a maid servant, and not a circus pony all decked out for the show.
Jessie. Maggie’s fond of Georgie. And Georgie’s kind to Mag.
Maggie. [Fearfully.] O don’t, Miss Jessie, for goodness sake.
Emily. [Viciously.] I’ll soon put an end to anything in that quarter.
Thomas. Now, Emily—take it quiet. Why, we shall have Clara upon us before us knows where we are.
Emily. [Folding the curtains.] I’ll settle her too, if she comes before I’m ready for her.
Robin. [Pointing through the open.] There’s George, coming with the basket.
[George comes into the room. He carefully rubs his feet on the mat as he enters. Then he advances to the table. Maggie dries her eyes with the back of her hand. Jessie is standing with her arm in Maggie’s.
Emily. Well, and where have you been all this while, I’d like to know?