Six Plays by Lady Florence Henrietta Fisher Darwin Part 28

GEORGE. [Advancing towards EMILY.] Look you here, mistress. I've put up with it going on for fifteen years. But sometimes 'tis almost more nor I can bear. If 'twasn't for Master Thomas I'd have cleared out this long time ago.

EMILY. Don't flatter yourself as Thomas needs you, my man.

GEORGE. We has always been good friends, farmer and me. 'Tis not for what I gets from he nor for what he do get out of I as we do hold together. But 'tis this--as he and I do understand one another.

EMILY. We'll see what master has to say when I tell him how you was found sitting on the kitchen table and love-making with that saucy piece of London trash.

GEORGE. I'm off. I've no patience to listen any longer. You called me roadster varmint. Well, let it be so. On the road I was born and on the road I was picked from my dead mother's side, and I count as 'tis on the road as I shall breathe my last. But for all that, I'll not have road dirt flung on me by no one. For, roadsters varmint though I be, there be things which I do hold brighter nor silver and cleaner nor new opened leaves, and I'll not have defilement throwed upon them.

EMILY. [Seizing the arms of JESSIE and ROBIN.] The lad's raving.

'Tis plain as he's been getting at the cider. Come you off with me to the haymaking, Robin and Jess.

ROBIN. May I take my book along of me?

EMILY. [Flinging the book down violently.] I'll book you! What next?

JESSIE. Poor Georgie. He was not courting Joan, mother. He was only doing the taters for her.

EMILY. [As they go out.] The lazy good-for-nothing cat. I'll get her packed off from here afore another sun has set, see if I don't.

[GEORGE is left alone in the kitchen. When all sounds of EMILY and the children have died away, he sighs. Then, looking furtively round the room, he draws a blue ribbon slowly from his pocket. He spreads it out on one hand and stands looking down on it, sadly and longingly. Then he slowly raises it to his lips and kisses it. Just as he is doing this THOMAS comes into the room.

THOMAS. Why, George, my lad.

GEORGE. [Confusedly putting the ribbon back into his pocket.] Yes, Master Thomas.

THOMAS. [Looking meaningly at GEORGE.] 'Tis a pretty enough young maid, George.

GEORGE. What did you say, Master?

THOMAS. That one with the bit of blue round the head of her.

GEORGE. Blue?

THOMAS. Ah, George. I was a young man myself once on a time.

GEORGE. Yes, master.

THOMAS. 'Twasn't a piece of blue ribbon as I did find one day, but 'twas a blossom dropped from her gown.

GEORGE. Whose gown, master? I'll warrant 'twasn't missus's.

THOMAS. Bless my soul, no. No, no, George. 'Twasn't the mistress then.

GEORGE. Ah, I count as it could not have been she.

THOMAS. First love, 'tis best, George.

GEORGE. Ah, upon my word, that 'tis.

THOMAS. But my maid went and got her married to another.

GEORGE. More's the pity, Master Thomas.

THOMAS. [Sighing.] Ah, I often thinks of how it might have been-- with her and me, like.

GEORGE. Had that one a soft tongue to her mouth, master?

THOMAS. Soft and sweet as the field lark, George.

GEORGE. Then that had been the one for you to have wed, Master Thomas.

THOMAS. Ah, George, don't you never run into the trap, no matter whether 'tis baited with the choicest thing you ever did dream on.

Once in, never out. There 'tis.

GEORGE. No one would trouble to set a snare for me, master. I baint worth trapping.

THOMAS. You be a brave, fine country lad, George, what a pretty baggage from London town might give a year of her life to catch, so be it her had the fortune.

GEORGE. No, no, Master Thomas. Nothing of that. There baint nothing.

THOMAS. There be a piece of blue ribbon, George.

GEORGE. They be coming down and into the room now, master. [Steps are heard in the staircase.

THOMAS. We'll off to the meadow then, George.

[GEORGE and THOMAS go out.

[JOAN, dressed as a lady of fashion, and followed by CLARA, comes into the kitchen.

CLARA. Now, Joan, if I were you, I should go out into the garden, and let the gentlemen find you in the arbour. Your ways are more easy and natural when you are in the air.

JOAN. O I'm very nigh dead with fright when I'm within doors. 'Tis so hard to move about without knocking myself against sommat. But at table 'tis worst of all.

CLARA. You've stopped up in your room two breakfasts with the headache, and yesterday we took our dinner to the wood.

JOAN. But to-night 'twill be something cruel, for Farmer Thomas have asked them both to supper again.

CLARA. Luke Jenner and the other man?

JOAN. I beg you to practise me in my ways, a little, afore the time, mistress.

CLARA. That I will. We will find out what is to be upon the table, and then I will shew you how it is to be eaten.

JOAN. And other things as well as eating. When I be sitting in the parlour, Miss Clara, and Hooper, he comes up and asks my pleasure, what have I got to say to him?

CLARA. O, I shouldn't trouble about that. I'd open my fan and take no notice if I were you.