Part 9 (2/2)

_Maude_ No, but I must really know it, you know, so I can look up often.

_Jack_ ”O, I see clearly,” said the blind man.

_Mrs. De S._ Dear, dear, this is just as if you were getting married!

(sinks into a chair; she has been examining the flowers). The presents and the flowers and the carriages and--and everything. O, suppose you were--suppose you were!

_Maude_ (with intense indignation). But I'm not! I'm graduating!

_Jack_ (disconsolately). I don't think they're much alike!

_Mrs. De S. But where is Papa?

_Jack_ As I came, I saw him at the drug store.

_Mrs. De S._ The drug store! Why in the world--oh, I remember now,--I sent him. We'll never get off.

(Miss Hoppenh.o.e.r's voice is heard from somewhere, ”O Jennie!”)

_Mrs. De S._ (rising and collecting things dropped). I wonder what's happened now? I hope Papa isn't killed! (hurries out).

_Maude_ (gazing at her ring). Aren't my presents pretty?

_Jack_ Yes, but you are prettier.

_Maude_ (archly). Thank you, Mr. Hamilton, but aren't you a little rash?

(holds roses to her face by way of contrast.)

_Jack_ (critically). No, I think not, on mature consideration. Your hair looks like gold--California gold, and those lovely lilies! Who gave you those lilies-of-the-valley? (suddenly).

_Maude_ (evasively). Why California gold?

_Jack_ O, it's redder, and then, it is a native product. You'd be mad if I said antique gold.

_Maude_ But do you like antique gold better?

_Jack_ That isn't the point. Who gave you those lilies?

_Maude_ Aren't they dear?

_Jack_ (cruelly). Don't know,--didn't buy 'em. Whose tribute are they?

_Maude_ ”Tribute” sounds like a funeral.

_Jack_ (with awful meaning). There may be a funeral. Whose are they?

_Maude_ (demurely). Mine.

<script>