PIKE [slowly and a little sadly].  Well, I don’t know as I could rightly say anything against that.  He must be a mighty nice fellow, and you must think a heap of him!

[With a suppressed sigh.]

That’s the way it should be.

[He smiles again and leans toward her in a friendly way.]

And you’re happy, are you?

ETHEL [with cold emphasis, sitting very straight in her chair]. 
Distinctly!

[PIKE’S expression becomes puzzled, he passes 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 embarrassed].  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.