shing to disagree with Dorothy). Very much. Droll
idea, though. Just like Bob, eh? Very, very droll. Bob's always
dro--

Yardsley (interrupting). When I see a man walking down the Avenue
with a chrysanthemum in his button-hole, I always think of a wild
Indian wearing a scalp for decorative purposes.

[Barlow and Dorothy laugh at this, and during their mirth Jennie
enters with the portfolio. She hands it to Dorothy. Dorothy rests
it on the arm of her chair, and Barlow looking over one shoulder, she
goes through it. Jennie in passing out throws another kiss to
Yardsley.

Yardsley (under his breath, stamping his foot). Awgh!

Barlow. What say?

[Dorothy looks up, surprised.

Yardsley. I--I didn't say anything. My--ah--my shoe had a piece of--
ah--

Barlow. Oh, say lint, and be done with it.

Yardsley (relieved, and thankful for the suggestion). Why, how did
you know? It did, you know. Had a piece of lint on it, and I tried
to get it off by stamping, that's all.

Dorothy. Ah, here it is.

Yardsley. What? The lint?

Barlow. Ho! Is the world nothing but lint to you? Of course not--
the Gibson. Charming, isn't it, Miss Dorothy?

Dorothy (holding the picture up). Fine. Just look at that girl.
Isn't she pretty?

Barlow. Very.

Dorothy. And such style, too.

Yardsley (looking over Dorothy's other shoulder). Yes, very pretty,
and lots of style. (Softly.) Very--like some one--some one I know.

Barlow (overhearing). I think so myself, Yardsley. It's exactly
like Josie Wilkins. By-the-way--ah--how is that little affair coming
along, Bob?

Dorothy (interested). What! You don't mean to say--Why, _Mister_
Yardsley!

Yardsley (with a venomous glance at Barlow). Nonsense. Nothing in
it. Mere invention of Barlow's. He's a regular Edison in his own
way.

[Dorothy looks inquiringly at Barlow.

Barlow (to Yardsley). Oh, don't be so sly about it, old fellow!
_Every_body knows.

Yardsley. But I tell you there's nothing in it. I--I have different
ideas entirely, and you--you know it--or, if you don't, you will
shortly.

Dorothy. Oh! Then it's some one else, Mr. Yardsley? Well, now I
_am_ interested'. Let's have a little confidential talk together.
Tell _us_, Mr. Yardsley, tell Mr. Barlow and me, and maybe--I can't
say for certain, of course--but maybe we can help you.

Barlow (gleefully rubbing his hands). Yes, old man; certainly.
Maybe we--we can help you.

Yar