[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.  O, 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?