Augusta.  I’m afraid I do understand, dear.

   (As she leaves the room, with dignity, George glances appealingly at
   Dr. Jonathan.)

Dr. Jonathan (going up to Minnie and taking her hand).  Do you think you’d have time to drop in to see me, Minnie, before your train goes?

Minnie (gazing at him; after a moment).  Sure!  I guess I’d like to talk to you.

Dr. Jonathan.  It’s the little white house across the Common.

Minnie.  Oh, I know, that’s been shut up all these years.

Dr. Jonathan.  And is open now again.

   (He goes out, lower right, and there is a brief silence as the two
   look after him.)

Minnie.  Say, who is he?

George.  Why, he’s a cousin of mine—­

Minnie.  I don’t mean that.  He’s somebody, ain’t he?

George.  By jingo, I’m beginning to think he is!

   (They stand gazing at one another.)

Minnie (remembering her grievance:  passionately).  Now you’ve gone and done it—­telling your mother we were friends.

George.  But we are—­aren’t we?  You couldn’t expect me to keep quiet, under the circumstances.

Minnie.  She thinks I’m not fit to talk to you.  Not that I care, except that I was fond of her, she’s been good to me in her way, and I felt real bad when I went off to Newcastle with the letter to the minister I never laid eyes on.  She’ll believe—­you know what she’ll believe,—­it’ll trouble her.  She’s your mother, and you’re going away.  You might have kept still.

George.  I couldn’t keep still.  What would you have thought of me?

Minnie.  It don’t make any difference what I’d have thought of you.

George.  It makes a difference to me, and it makes some difference what I think of myself.  I seem to be learning a good many things this morning.

Minnie.  From him?

George:  You mean Dr. Jonathan?

Minnie.  Yes.

George (reflecting).  I don’t know.  I’m learning them from you, from everybody.

Minnie.  Maybe he put you wise.

George.  Well, I don’t feel wise.  And seeing you again this morning brought it all back to me.

Minnie.  You were only fooling.

George.  I began that way,—­I’ll own up.  But I told you I’d never met a girl like you, you’re full of pep—­courage—­something I can’t describe.  I was crazy about you,—­that’s straight,—­but I didn’t realize it until you ran off, and then I went after you,—­but it was no good!  I don’t claim to have been square with you, and I’ve been thinking—­well, that I’m responsible.

Minnie.  Responsible for what?

George.  Well-for your throwing yourself away down there at Newcastle. 
You’re too good.