_Dorothy._ Mr. Yardsley!

_Yardsley_ (_pulling himself together again_). Bobbed. Hicks be Bobbed.

That's what I was going to say.

_Dorothy._ What on earth does this all mean? I must have an explanation, Jennie. What have you to say for yourself?

_Jennie._ Why, I--

_Yardsley._ I tell you it isn't true. She's made it up out of whole cloth.

_Barlow._ What isn't true? She hasn't said anything yet.

_Yardsley_ (_desperately_). I refer to what she's going to say. I'm a--a--I'm a mind-reader, and I see it all as plain as day.

_Dorothy._ I can best judge of the truth of Jennie's words when she has spoken them, Mr. Yardsley. Jennie, you may explain, if you can. What do you mean by Hicks killing Mr. Yardsley, and why do you presume to call Mr. Yardsley by his first name?

_Yardsley_ (_aside_). Heigho! My goose is cooked.

_Barlow._ I fancy you wish you had taken that walk I suggested now.

_Yardsley._ You always were a good deal of a fancier.

_Jennie._ I hardly knows how to begin, Miss Dorothy. I--I'm so flabbergasted by all that's happened this afternoon, mum, that I can't get my thoughts straight, mum.

_Dorothy._ Never mind getting your thoughts straight, Jennie. I do not want fiction. I want the truth.

_Jennie._ Well, mum, when a fine gentleman like Mr. Yardsley asks--

_Yardsley._ I tell you it isn't so.

_Jennie._ Indeed he did, mum.

_Dorothy_ (_impatiently_). Did what?

_Jennie._ Axed me to marry him, mum.

_Dorothy._ Mr. Yardsley--asked--you--to--to marry him?

[_BARLOW whistles._

_Jennie_ (_bursting into tears again_). Yes, mum, he did, mum, right here in this room. He got down on his knees to me on that Proossian rug before the sofa, mum. I was standin' behind the sofa, havin' just come in to tell him as how you'd be down shortly. He was standin' before the lookin'-gla.s.s lookin' at himself, an' when I come in he turns around and goes down on his knees and says such an importunity may not occur again, mum; I've loved you very long; and then he recited some pottery, mum, and said would I be his wife.

_Yardsley_ (_desperately_). Let me explain.

_Dorothy._ Wait; Mr. Yardsley; your turn will come in a moment.

_Barlow._ Yes, it'll be here, my boy; don't fret about that. Take all the time you need to make it a good one. Gad! if this doesn't strain your imagination, nothing will.

_Dorothy._ Go on, Jennie. Then what happened?

_Yardsley_ (_with an injured expression_). Do you expect me to stand here, Miss Andrews, and hear this girl's horrible story?

_Barlow._ Then you know the story, do you, Yardsley? It's horrible, and you are innocent. My! you are a mind-reader with a vengeance.

_Dorothy._ Don't mind what these gentlemen say, Jennie, but go on.

[_YARDSLEY sinks into the arm-chair. BARLOW chuckles; MISS ANDREWS glances indignantly at him._

_Dorothy._ Pardon me, Mr. Barlow. If there is any humor in the situation, I fail to see it.

_Barlow_ (_seeing his error_). Nor, indeed, do I. I was not--ah--laughing from mirth. That chuckle was hysterics, Miss Dorothy, I a.s.sure you. There are some laughs that can hardly be differentiated from sobs.

_Jennie._ I was all took in a heap, mum, to think of a fine gentleman like Mr. Yardsley proposing to me, mum, and I says the same. Says I, "Oh, Mr. Yardsley, this is so suddent like," whereat he looks up with a countenance so full o' pain that I hadn't the heart to refuse him; so, fergettin' Hicks for the moment, I says, kind o' soft like, certingly, sir. It ain't for the likes o' me to say no to the likes o' him.

_Yardsley._ Then you said you were engaged to Hicks. You know you did, Jennie.

_Barlow._ Ah! Then you admit the proposal?

_Yardsley._ Oh, Lord! Worse and worse! I--

_Dorothy._ Jennie has not finished her story.

_Jennie._ I did say as how I was engaged to Hicks, but I thought he would let me off; and Mr. Yardsley looked glad when I said that, and said he'd make it all right with Hicks.

_Yardsley._ What? I? Jennie O'Brien, or whatever your horrible name is, do you mean to say that I said I'd make it all right with Hicks?

_Jennie._ Not in them words, Mr. Yardsley; but you did say as how you'd see him yourself and give him a present. You did indeed, Mr. Yardsley, as you was a-standin' on that there Proossian rug.

_Dorothy._ Did you, Mr. Yardsley?

[_YARDSLEY buries his face in his hands and groans._

_Barlow._ Not so ready with your explanations now, eh?

_Dorothy._ Mr. Barlow, really I must ask you not to interfere. Did you say that, Mr. Yardsley?

_Yardsley._ I did, but--

_Dorothy_ (_frigidly_). Go on, Jennie.

_Jennie._ Just then the front-door bell rings and Mr. Barlow comes, and there wasn't no more importunity for me to speak; but when I got down-stairs into the kitchen, mum, Mr. Hicks he comes in, an'

(_sobs_)--an' I breaks with him.

_Yardsley._ You've broken with Hicks for me?

_Jennie._ Yes, I have--but I wouldn't never have done it if I'd known--boo-hoo--as how you'd behave this way an' deny ever havin' said a word. I--I--I l-lo-love Mr. Hicks, an' I--I hate you--and I wish I'd let him come up and kill you, as he said he would.

_Dorothy._ Jennie! Jennie! be calm! Where is Hicks now?