Yardsley.  Why, certainly.  Of course.  I don’t really believe Barlow ever had sand enough to propose to any one.  Did you, Jack?

Barlow (indignant).  Well, I rather think I have.

Dorothy.  Ho, ho!  Then you are an experienced proposer, Mr.
Barlow?

Barlow (confused).  Why—­er—­well—­um—­I didn’t exactly mean that, you know.  I meant that—­ah—­if it ever came to the—­er—­the test, I think I could—­I’d have sand enough, as Yardsley puts it, to do the thing properly, and without making a—­ah—­a Yardsley of myself.

Yardsley (bristling up).  Now what do you mean by that?

Dorothy.  I think you are both of you horrid this afternoon.  You are so quarrelsome.  Do you two always quarrel, or is this merely a little afternoon’s diversion got up for my especial benefit?

Barlow (with dignity).  I never quarrel.

Yardsley.  Nor I. I simply differ sometimes, that’s all.  I never had an unpleasant word with Jack in my life.  Did I, Jack?

Barlow.  Never.  I always avoid a fracas, however great the provocation.

Dorothy (desperately).  Then let us have a cup of tea together and be more sociable.  I have always noticed that tea promotes sociability—­ haven’t you, Mr. Yardsley?

Yardsley.  Always. (Aside.) Among women.

Barlow.  What say?

[Dorothy rises and rings the bell for Jennie.

Yardsley.  I say that I am very fond of tea.

Barlow.  So am I—­here. [Rises and looks at pictures.  Yardsley meanwhile sits in moody silence.

Dorothy (returning).  You seem to have something on your mind, Mr.
Yardsley.  I never knew you to be so solemn before.

Yardsley.  I have something on my mind, Miss Dorothy.  It’s—­

Barlow (coming forward).  Wise man, cold weather like this.  It would be terrible if you let your mind go out in cold weather without anything on it.  Might catch cold in your idea.

Dorothy.  I wonder why Jennie doesn’t come?  I shall have to ring again.

[Pushes electric button again.

Yardsley (with an effort at brilliance).  The kitchen belle doesn’t seem to work.

Dorothy.  Ordinarily she does, but she seems to be upset by something this afternoon.  I’m afraid she’s in love.  If you will excuse me a moment I will go and prepare the tea myself.

Barlow.  Do; good!  Then we shall not need the sugar.

Yardsley.  You might omit the spoons too, after a remark like that,
Miss Dorothy.

Dorothy.  We’ll omit Mr. Barlow’s spoon.  I’ll bring some for you and me. [She goes out.

Yardsley (with a laugh).  That’s one on you, Barlow.  But I say, old man (taking out his watch and snapping the cover to three or four times), it’s getting very late—­after five now.  If you want to go with Billy Wilkins you’d better take up your hat and walk.  I’ll say good-bye to Miss Andrews for you.