course, I might have gone on Main street, but surely I may be allowed to save a few steps by cutting across the lawn. (He goes out through wicket, waving his hand.) Till we meet again.
Ann (Looking through the window into the cottage).—What’s grandfather doing?
Julia.—Sleeping as usual—from noon till evening.
Ann.—What a lot of work you’ve done! No wonder, with such a Celadon to thread the needle for you.
Julia.—Please, Ann. I should think you would be furious about it all. (Jackie whispers something in Andrew’s ear, both go out by wicket, and presently Andrew returns alone.)
Ann (Forcing a laugh).—You don’t need my oath on it that I am not. Not even a headache. It only makes me laugh!
Julia.—Just so you are not pretending.
Ann (Laughing hysterically).—For God’s sake, Julia, don’t think that I am jealous. I don’t care about anything but the good name of the house. All I have in life is the hollow honor of being mistress here, and I must put up a semblance of dignity. The elections are at hand, and our opponents are looking for anything they can dig up against us.
Julia.—Ann, if I did not realize how agitated you must be, I should feel insulted. Even so, I do not feel exactly flattered.
Ann.—Don’t think I haven’t eyes. He is to meet the young people on their way home from the excursion, and instead of taking a short cut, he wanders around by the back way, simply to see you. This is not the first time. Every day he seems to have more business here about the house than at the drug store.
Julia.—Please to remember, before you say any more, that the father of your boy is more loathesome to me than he is to you. That is saying a mouthful.
Ann (With anxious look toward Andrew).—The father of my child?
Julia.—The gentleman who has just departed, the community druggist, the village mayor, the honorable Mr. John Karvan.
Ann (Perceptibly relieved).—You mean thing! Why should my own husband be loathesome to me? I am afraid people are whispering such things about only too freely. I should be lying if I denied that I could love him more to distraction than I do. But as you say, being the father of my boy, the first man in the village . . . since Fate denied me that other one . . .
Julia (Tenderly).—That other one! My dear little sister,
