“Certainly not.  I’d have given it to her if I had, so she wouldn’t interrupt me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I can’t think about it now.  I am full of this big idea.  It’s a dramatization of the Brotherhood of Man, of a sublime, socialistic world——­”

“Has it occurred to you, ever, Jarvis, that the world isn’t ready for the Brotherhood of Man yet?  It’s just out of the tent stage, where War is the whole duty of Man.”

“But it must be ready,” he urged, seriously, “for I am here with my message.”

She smiled at him as one would at a conceited child.

“Poor old Jarvis, strayed out of Elysian fields!  Were you thinking of sleeping in the summer-house permanently?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter; only the play matters.  Give me some paper, Bambi, and let me get to work.”

She rose and went to stand before him.

“Would you mind looking at me?”

He turned his eyes on her.

“Not just your eyes, Jarvis.  Look at me with your mind.”

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked, slightly irritated.

“Do you like my looks?”

“I’ve never noticed them.”

“That’s what I’m asking you to do.  Look me over.”

He stared at her.

“Yes, you’re pretty—­you’re very pretty.  Some people might call you beautiful.”

“Don’t overdo it, Jarvis!  Have you ever noticed my disposition?”

“No—­yes.  Well, I know you’re patient, and you must be good-natured.”

“I am.  I am also healthy and cheerful.”

“I don’t doubt it.  Where is the paper?”

She put her hands on his shoulders and shook him gently.

“Jarvis, I want you to give me your full attention for five minutes.”

“What ails you to-day, Bambi?”

“The only thing I lack is a useful education, so that I am not sure I can make a very big living just at first, unless I dance on the stage.”

“What are you driving at?”

“Would you have any special objection to marrying me, Jarvis?”

“Marrying you?  Are you crazy?”

“Obviously.  Have you?”

“Certainly I won’t marry you.  I am too busy.  You disappoint me, Bambi; you do, indeed.  I always thought you were such a sensible girl——­”

“Father can help out a little, at first, but I may as well tell you, he doesn’t approve of you as a son-in-law.”

“I don’t approve of him, impractical dreamer!  Where is that paper?”

“You’ve got to be taken care of until you get an awful tumble.  Then you will wake up and do big things, but in the meantime you must eat.”

“You talk nonsense, and you’re interrupting me.  If I don’t get at that scene——­”

“Will you marry me?  I can’t take care of you if you don’t, because the neighbours will talk.”

“I won’t marry you.  I don’t love you.”

“No more do I love you.  That’s got nothing to do with it.  Here’s one of father’s empty notebooks.  Say yes, and you can have it.”