After a moment George goes over to the extreme left hand corner of the room, where several articles are piled.  He drags out a kit bag, then some necessary wearing apparel, underclothes, socks, a sweater, etc., then a large and rather luxurious lunch kit, a pin cushion. with his monogram, a small travelling pillow with his monogram, a linen toilet case embroidered in blue, to hang on the wall—­these last evidently presents from admiring lady friends.  Finally he brings forth a large rubber life preserving suit.  He makes a show of putting all these things in the bag, including the life- preserving suit; and reveals a certain sentiment, not too deep, for the pillow, the pincushion and the toilet case.  At length he strews everything over the floor, and is surveying the litter with mock despair when a girl appears on the lawn outside, through one of the windows.  She throws into the room a small parcel wrapped in tissue paper, and disappears.  George picks up the parcel and looks surprised, and suddenly runs out of the door, upper right.  He presently returns, dragging the girl by the wrists, she resisting.

Minnie Farrell is about twenty one, with black hair and an abundant vitality.  Her costume is a not wholly ineffective imitation of those bought at a great price at certain metropolitan establishments.  A string of imitation pearls gleams against her ruddy skin.

Minnie.  Cut it out, George! (Glancing around apprehensively.) Say, if your mother was to find me here she’d want to send me up to the reformatory (she frees herself).

George.  Where the deuce did you blow in from? (Regarding her with admiration.) Is this the little Minnie Farrell who left Foxon Falls two years ago?  Gee whiz! aren’t we smart!

Minnie.  Do you like me?  I’m making good money, since the war.

George.  Do I like you?  What are you doing here?

Minnie.  My brother Bert’s out there—­he ain’t working today.  Mr. Pindar sent for father, and we walked up here with him.  Where is he?

George (nodding toward the study).  In there.  But what are you doing, back in Foxon Falls?

Minnie.  Oh, visiting the scenes of my childhood.

George (tearing open the tissue paper from the parcel).  Did you make
these for me? 
   (He holds up a pair of grey woollen wristlets.)

Minnie.  Well, I wanted to do something for a soldier, and when I heard you was going to France I thought you might as well have ’em.

George.  How did you hear I was going?

Minnie.  Bert told me when I came home yesterday.  They say it’s cold in the trenches, and nothing keeps the hands so warm as wristlets.  I know, because I’ve had ’em on winter mornings, early, when I was going to work.  Will you wear ’em, George?

George.  Will I wear them! (He puts then on his wrists.) I’ll never take them off till the war’s over.