ought it was very--very
pleasant out.

Barlow. That's what you said before.

Yardsley (indignantly). Well, what of it? It's the truth. If you
don't believe it, go outside and see for yourself.

[Jennie appears at the door in response to Dorothy's ring. She
glances demurely at Yardsley, who tries to ignore her presence.

Dorothy. Jennie, go up to my room and look on the table in the
corner, and bring me down the portfolio you will find there. The
large brown one that belongs in the stand over there.

Jennie (dazed). Yessum. And shall I be bringin' lemons with it?

Dorothy. Lemons, Jennie?

Jennie. You always does have lemons with your tea, mum.

Dorothy. I didn't mention tea. I want you to get my portfolio from
up-stairs. It is on the table in the corner of my room.

[Looks at Jennie in surprise.

Jennie. Oh, excuse me, mum. I didn't hear straight.

[She casts a languishing glance at Yardsley and disappears.

Yardsley (noting the glance, presumably aside). Confound that
Jennie!

Barlow (overhearing Yardsley). What's that? Confound that Jennie?
Why say confound that Jennie? Why do you wish Jennie to be
confounded?

Yardsley (nervously). I didn't say that. I--ah--I merely said that--
that Jennie appeared to be--ah--confounded.

Dorothy. She certainly is confused. I cannot understand it at all.
Ordinarily I have rather envied Jennie her composure.

Yardsley. Oh, I suppose--it's--it's--it's natural for a young girl--
a servant--sometimes to lose her--equipoise, as it were, on
occasions. If we lose ours at times, why not Jennie? Eh? Huh?

Barlow. Certainly.

Yardsley. Of course--ha--trained servants are hard to get these
days, anyhow. Educated people--ah--go into other professions, such
as law, and--ah--the ministry--and--

Dorothy. Well, never mind. Let's talk of something more interesting
than Jennie. Going to the Chrysanthemum Show, Mr. Barlow?

Barlow. I am; wouldn't miss it for the world. Do you know, really
now, the chrysanthemum, in my opinion, is the most human-looking
flower we have. The rose is too beautiful, too perfect, for me. The
chrysanthemum, on the other hand--

Yardsley (interrupting). Looks so like a football-player's head it
appeals to your sympathies? Well, perhaps you are right. I never
thought of it in that light before, but--

Dorothy (smiling). Nor I; but now that you mention it, it does look
that way, doesn't it?

Barlow (not wi