Yardsley (aside). Now for a bit of strategy. (Aloud.) He was looking for you at the club. (Aside.) Splendid lie! (Aloud.) Had seats for the – ah – the Metropolitan to-night. Said he was looking for you. Wants you to go with him. (Aside.) That ought to start him along.

Barlow. I'll go with him.

Yardsley (eagerly). Well, you'd better let him know at once, then. Better run around there and catch him while there's time. He said if he didn't see you before half-past four he'd get Tom Parker to go. Fine show to-night. Wouldn't lose the opportunity if I were you. (Looking at his watch.) You'll just about have time to do it now if you start at once.

[Grasps Barlow by arm, and tries to force him out. Barlow holds back, and is about to remonstrate, when Dorothy enters. Both men rush to greet her; Yardsley catches her left hand, Barlow her right.

Dorothy (slightly embarrassed). Why, how do you do – this is an unexpected pleasure – both of you? Excuse my left hand, Mr. Yardsley; I should have given you the other if – if you'd given me time.

Yardsley. Don't mention it, I pray. The unexpectedness is wholly mine, Miss Andrews – I mean – ah – the pleasure is —

Barlow. Wholly mine.

Dorothy (withdrawing her hands from both and sitting down). I haven't seen either of you since the Perkinses' dance. Wasn't it a charming affair?

Yardsley. Delightful I – ah – I didn't know that the Perkinses —

Barlow (interrupting). It was a good deal of a crush, though. As Mrs. Van Darling said to me, "You always meet – "

Yardsley. It's a pity Perkins isn't more of a society man, though, don't you think?

Dorothy. Oh, I don't know. I've always found him very pleasant. He is so sincere.

Barlow. Isn't he, though? He looked bored to death all through the dance.

Yardsley. I thought so too. I was watching him while you were talking to him, Barlow, and such a look of ennui I never saw on a man's face.

Barlow. Humph!

Dorothy. Are you going to Mrs. Van Darling's dinner?

Barlow. Yes; I received my bid last night. You?

Dorothy. Oh yes!

Yardsley (gloomily). I can't go very well. I'm – ah – engaged for Tuesday.

Barlow. Well, I hope you've let Mrs. Van Darling know. She's a stickler for promptness in accepting or declining her invitations. If you haven't, I'll tell her for you. I'm to see her to-night.

Yardsley. Oh no! Never mind. I'll – I'll attend to it.

Barlow. Oh, of course. But it's just as well she should know in advance. You might forget it, you know. I'll tell her; it's no trouble to me.

Dorothy. Of course not, and she can get some one to take your place.

Yardsley (desperately). Oh, don't say anything about it. Fact is, she – ah – she hasn't invited me.

Barlow. Ah! (Aside.) I knew that all along. Oh, but I'm clever!

Dorothy (hastily, to relieve Yardsley's embarrassment). Have you seen Irving, Mr. Yardsley?

Yardsley. Yes.

Barlow (suspiciously). What in? I haven't seen you at any of the first nights.

Yardsley (with a grin). In the grill-room at the Players'.

Barlow (aside). Bah!

Dorothy (laughing). You are so bright, Mr. Yardsley.

Barlow (forcing a laugh). Ha, ha, ha! Why, yes – very clever that. It ought to have a Gibson picture over it, that joke. It would help it. Those Gibson pictures are fine, I think. Carry any kind of joke, eh?

Yardsley. Yes, they frequently do.

Dorothy. I'm so glad you both like Gibson, for I just dote on him. I have one of his originals in my portfolio. I'll get it if you'd like to see it.

[She rises and goes to the corner of the room, where there stands a portfolio-case.

Yardsley (aside). What a bore Barlow is! Hang him! I must get rid of him somehow.

[Barlow meanwhile is assisting Dorothy.

Yardsley (looking around at the others). Jove! he's off in the corner with her. Can't allow that, for the fact is Barlow's just a bit dangerous – to me.

Dorothy (rummaging through portfolio). Why, it was here —

Barlow. Maybe it's in this other portfolio.

Yardsley (joining them). Yes, maybe it is. That's a good idea. If it isn't in one portfolio maybe it's in another. Clever thought! I may be bright, Miss Andrews, but you must have observed that Barlow is thoughtful.

Dorothy (with a glance at Barlow). Yes, Mr. Yardsley, I have noticed the latter.

Barlow. Tee-hee! that's one on you, Bob.

Yardsley (obtuse). Ha, ha! Yes. Why, of course! Ha, ha, ha! For repartee I have always said – polite repartee, of course – Miss Andrews is – (Aside.) Now what the dickens did she mean by that?

Dorothy. I can't find it here. Let – me think. Where – can – it – be?

Barlow (striking thoughtful attitude). Yes, where can it be? Let me do your thinking for you, Miss Dorothy. (Then softly to her.) Always!

Yardsley (mocking Barlow). Yes! Let me think! (Points his finger at his forehead and assumes tragic attitude. Then stalks to the front of stage in manner of burlesque Hamlet.) Come, thought, come. Shed the glory of thy greatness full on me, and thus confound mine enemies. Where the deuce is that Gibson?

Dorothy. Oh, I remember. It's upstairs. I took it up with me last night. I'll ring for Jennie, and have her get it.

Yardsley (aside, and in consternation). Jennie! Oh, thunder! I'd forgotten her. I do hope she remembers not to forget herself.

Barlow. What say?

Yardsley. Nothing; only – ah – only that I thought it was very – very pleasant out.

Barlow. That's what you said before.

Yardsley (indignantly). Well, what of it? It's the truth. If you don't believe it, go outside and see for yourself.

[Jennie appears at the door in response to Dorothy's ring. She glances demurely at Yardsley, who tries to ignore her presence.

Dorothy. Jennie, go up to my room and look on the table in the corner, and bring me down the portfolio you will find there. The large brown one that belongs in the stand over there.

Jennie (dazed). Yessum. And shall I be bringin' lemons with it?

Dorothy. Lemons, Jennie?

Jennie. You always does have lemons with your tea, mum.

Dorothy. I didn't mention tea. I want you to get my portfolio from upstairs. It is on the table in the corner of my room.

[Looks at Jennie in surprise.

Jennie. Oh, excuse me, mum. I didn't hear straight.

[She casts a languishing glance at Yardsley and disappears.

Yardsley (noting the glance, presumably aside). Confound that Jennie!

Barlow (overhearing Yardsley). What's that? Confound that Jennie? Why say confound that Jennie? Why do you wish Jennie to be confounded?

Yardsley (nervously). I didn't say that. I – ah – I merely said that – that Jennie appeared to be – ah – confounded.

Dorothy. She certainly is confused. I cannot understand it at all. Ordinarily I have rather envied Jennie her composure.

Yardsley. Oh, I suppose – it's – it's – it's natural for a young girl – a servant – sometimes to lose her – equipoise, as it were, on occasions. If we lose ours at times, why not Jennie? Eh? Huh?

Barlow. Certainly.

Yardsley. Of course – ha – trained servants are hard to get these days, anyhow. Educated people – ah – go into other professions, such as law, and – ah – the ministry – and —

Dorothy. Well, never mind. Let's talk of something more interesting than Jennie. Going to the Chrysanthemum Show, Mr. Barlow?

Barlow. I am; wouldn't miss it for the world. Do you know, really now, the chrysanthemum, in my opinion, is the most human-looking flower we have. The rose is too beautiful, too perfect, for me. The chrysanthemum, on the other hand —

Yardsley (interrupting). Looks so like a football-player's head it appeals to your sympathies? Well, perhaps you are right. I never thought of it in that light before, but —

Dorothy (smiling). Nor I; but now that you mention it, it does look that way, doesn't it?

Barlow (not wishing to disagree with Dorothy). Very much. Droll idea, though. Just like Bob, eh? Very, very droll. Bob's always dro —

Yardsley (interrupting). When I see a man walking down the avenue with a chrysanthemum in his button-hole, I always think of a wild Indian wearing a scalp for decorative purposes.

[Barlow and Dorothy laugh at this, and during their mirth Jennie enters with the portfolio. She hands it to Dorothy. Dorothy rests it on the arm of her chair, and, Barlow looking over one shoulder, she goes through it. Jennie in passing out throws another kiss to Yardsley.

Yardsley (under his breath, stamping his foot). Awgh!