[PIKE'S expression becomes puzzled, he pa.s.ses his hand over his chin, looks at her keenly. Then his eyes turn to the spot where HORACE stood during their interview, and he starts, as though shocked at a sudden thought.]

PIKE. It ain't that fellow I was talkin' to yonder?

ETHEL [indignantly]. That was my _brother_!

PIKE [relieved, but somewhat embarra.s.sed]. Lord-a-Mercy!

[Recovering himself immediately and smiling.]

But, naturally, I wouldn't remember him. He couldn't have been more than twelve years old last time you were home. Of course, I'd 'a' known _you_--

ETHEL. How? You couldn't have seen me since I was a child.

PIKE. From your picture. Though now I see--it _ain't_ so much like you.

ETHEL. You have a photograph of _me_?

PIKE [very gently]. The last time I saw your father alive he gave me one.

ETHEL [frowning]. _Gave_ it to you?

PIKE. Gave it to me to look at.

ETHEL. And you remembered--

PIKE [apologetically]. Yes, ma'am!

ETHEL [incredulously]. Remembered well enough to _know_ me?

PIKE. Yes, ma'am!

ETHEL. It does not strike me as possible. We may dismiss the subject.

PIKE. Well, if you'd like to introduce me to your [laughing feebly and tentatively, hesitates]--to your--

ETHEL. To my brother?

PIKE. No, ma'am; I mean to your--to the young man.

ETHEL. To Mr. St. Aubyn? I think it quite unnecessary.

PIKE. I'm afraid I can't see it just that way [with an apologetic laugh]. I'll _have_ to have a couple of talks with him--sort of look him over, so to speak. I won't stay around here spoilin' your fun any longer than I can help. Only just for that, and to get a letter I'm expectin'

here from England. Don't you be afraid.

ETHEL. I do not see that you need have come at all. [Her lip begins to tremble.] We could have been spared this mortification.

PIKE [sadly]. You mean _I_ mortify you? Why, I--I can't see how.

ETHEL. In a hundred ways--every way. That common person who is with you--

PIKE [gently]. _He_ ain't common. You only think so because he's with _me_.

ETHEL [sharply]. Who is he?

PIKE. He told me his name, but I can't remember it. I call him "Doc."

ETHEL. It doesn't _matter_! What _does_ matter is that you needn't have come. You could have _written_ your consent.

PIKE [mildly]. Not without seeing the young man.

ETHEL. And you could have arranged the settlement in the same way.

PIKE [smiling]. Settlement? You seem to have _settled_ it pretty well without me.

ETHEL. You do not understand. An alliance of this sort always entails a certain settlement.

PIKE. Yes, ma'am--when folks get married they generally settle down considerable.

ETHEL [impatiently]. Please listen. If you were at all a man of the world, I should not have to explain that in marrying into a n.o.ble house I bring my _dot_, my dowry--

PIKE [puzzled]. _Money_, you mean?

ETHEL. If you choose to put it that way.

PIKE. You mean you want to put aside something of your own to buy a lot and fix up a place to start housekeeping--

ETHEL. No, _no_! I mean a settlement upon Mr. St. Aubyn directly.

PIKE. You mean you want to _give_ it to him?

ETHEL. If that's the only way to make you understand--_yes_!

PIKE [amused]. How much do you want to give him?

ETHEL [coldly]. A hundred and fifty thousand pounds.

PIKE [incredulously]. Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars!

ETHEL. _Precisely_ that!

PIKE [amazed]. Well, he _has_ made you care for him! I guess he must be the Prince of the World, honey! He must be a great man. I expect you're right about me not meetin' _him_! I prob'ly wouldn't stack up very high alongside of a man that's big enough for you to think as much of as you do of him. [Smiling.] Why, I'd have to squeeze every bit of property your pa left you.

ETHEL. Is it _your_ property?

PIKE [gently]. I've worked pretty hard to take care of it for you.

ETHEL [rising impulsively and coming to him]. Forgive me for saying that.