at any of the
first nights.

Yardsley (with a grin). In the grill-room at the Players.

Barlow (aside). Bah!

Dorothy (laughing). You are so bright, Mr. Yardsley.

Barlow (forcing a laugh). Ha, ha, ha! Why, yes--very clever that.
It ought to have a Gibson picture over it, that joke. It would help
it. Those Gibson pictures are fine, I think. Carry any kind of
joke, eh?

Yardsley. Yes, they frequently do.

Dorothy. I'm so glad you both like Gibson, for I just dote on him.
I have one of his originals in my portfolio. I'll get it if you'd
like to see it.

[She rises and goes to the corner of the room, where there stands a
portfolio-case.

Yardsley (aside). What a bore Barlow is! Hang him! I must get rid
of him somehow.

[Barlow meanwhile is assisting Dorothy.

Yardsley (looking around at the others). Jove! he's off in the
corner with her. Can't allow that, for the fact is Barlow's just a
bit dangerous--to me.

Dorothy (rummaging through portfolio). Why, it was here--

Barlow. Maybe it's in this other portfolio.

Yardsley (joining them). Yes, maybe it is. That's a good idea. If
it isn't in one portfolio maybe it's in another. Clever thought! I
may be bright, Miss Andrews, but you must have observed that Barlow
is thoughtful.

Dorothy (with a glance at Barlow). Yes, Mr. Yardsley, I have noticed
the latter.

Barlow. Tee-hee! that's one on you, Bob.

Yardsley (obtuse). Ha, ha! Yes. Why, of course! Ha, ha, ha! For
repartee I have always said-polite repartee, of course--Miss Andrews
is--(Aside.) Now what the dickens did she mean by that?

Dorothy. I can't find it here. Let--me think. Where--can--it--be?

Barlow (striking thoughtful attitude). Yes, where can it be? Let me
do your thinking for you, Miss Dorothy. (Then softly to her.)
Always!

Yardsley (mocking Barlow). Yes! Let _me_ think! (Points his finger
at his forehead and assumes tragic attitude. Then stalks to the
front of stage in manner of burlesque Hamlet.) Come, thought, come.
Shed the glory of thy greatness full on me, and thus confound mine
enemies. Where the deuce is that Gibson?

Dorothy. Oh, I remember. It's up-stairs. I took it up with me last
night. I'll ring for Jennie, and have her get it.

Yardsley (aside, and in consternation). Jennie! Oh, thunder! I'd
forgotten her. I do hope she remembers not to forget herself.

Barlow. What say?

Yardsley. Nothing; only--ah--only that I th