Barlow.  Let me speak, Miss Andrews.  I—­

Yardsley.  You haven’t anything to do with the subject in hand, my dear Barlow, not a thing.

Dorothy.  Jennie—­what—­what have you to say?

Jennie.  Me?  Oh, mum, I hardly knows what to say!  This is suddenter than the other; but, Miss Dorothy, I’d believe him, I would, because—­ I—­I think he’s tellin’ the truth, after all, for the reason that—­ oh dear—­for—­

Dorothy.  Don’t be frightened, Jennie.  For what reason?

Jennie.  Well, mum, for the reason that when I said “yes,” mum, he didn’t act like all the other gentlemen I’ve said yes to, and—­and k—­ kuk—­kiss me.

Yardsley.  That’s it! that’s it!  Do you suppose that if I’d been after Jennie’s yes, and got it, I’d have let a door-bell and a sofa stand between me and—­the sealing of the proposal?

Barlow (aside).  Oh, what nonsense this all is!  I’ve got to get ahead of this fellow in some way. (Aloud.) Well, where do I come in?  I came here, Miss Andrews, to—­tell you—­

Yardsley (interposing).  You come in where you came in before—­just a little late—­after the proposal, as it were.

Dorothy (her face clearing and wreathing with smiles).  What a comedy of errors it has all been!  I—­I believe you, Mr. Yardsley.

Yardsley.  Thank Heaven!  And—­ah—­you aren’t going to say anything more, D—­Dorothy?

Dorothy.  I’m afraid—­

Yardsley.  Are you going to make me go through that proposal all over again, now that I’ve got myself into so much trouble saying it the first time—­Dorothy?

Dorothy.  No, no.  You needn’t—­you needn’t speak of it again.

Barlow (aside).  Good!  That’s his conge.

Yardsley.  And—­then if I—­if I needn’t say it again?  What then? 
Can’t I have—­my answer now?  Oh, Miss Andrews—­

Dorothy (with downcast eyes, softly).  What did Jennie say?

Yardsley (in ecstasy).  Do you mean it?

Barlow.  I fancy—­I fancy I’d better go now, Miss—­er—­Miss Andrews.  I—­I—­have an appointment with Mr. Wilkins, and—­er—­I observe that it is getting rather late.

Yardsley.  Don’t go yet, Jack.  I’m not so anxious to be rid of you now.

Barlow.  I must go—­really.

Yardsley.  But I want you to make me one promise before you go.

Dorothy.  He’ll make it, I’m sure, if I ask him.  Mr. Yardsley and I want you—­want you to be our best man.

Yardsley.  That’s it, precisely.  Eh, Jack?

Barlow.  Well, yes.  I’ll be—­second-best man, The events of the afternoon have shown my capacity for that.

Yardsley.  Ah!

Barlow.  And I’ll show my sincerity by wearing Bob’s hat and coat into the street now and letting the fury of Hicks fall upon me.

Jennie.  If you please, Miss Dorothy—­I—­I think I can attend to Mr.
Hicks.