ion, nothing will.

Dorothy. Go on, Jennie. Then what happened?

Yardsley (with an injured expression). Do you expect me to stand
here, Miss Andrews, and hear this girl's horrible story?

Barlow. Then you know the story, do you, Yardsley? It's horrible,
and you are innocent. My! you are a mind-reader with a vengeance.

Dorothy. Don't mind what these gentlemen say, Jennie, but go on.

[Yardsley sinks into the arm-chair. Barlow chuckles; Miss Andrews
glances indignantly at him.

Dorothy. Pardon me, Mr. Barlow. If there is any humor in the
situation, I fail to see it.

Barlow (seeing his error). Nor, indeed, do I. I was not--ah--
laughing from mirth. That chuckle was hysterics, Miss Dorothy, I
assure you. There are some laughs that can hardly be differentiated
from sobs.

Jennie. I was all took in a heap, mum, to think of a fine gentleman
like Mr. Yardsley proposing to me, mum, and I says the same. Says I,
"Oh, Mr. Yardsley, this is so suddent like," whereat he looks up with
a countenance so full o' pain that I hadn't the heart to refuse him;
so, fergettin' Hicks for the moment, I says, kind of soft like,
certingly, sir. It ain't for the likes o' me to say no to the likes
o' him.

Yardsley. Then you said you were engaged to Hicks. You know you
did, Jennie.

Barlow. Ah! Then you admit the proposal?

Yardsley. Oh Lord! Worse and worse! I--

Dorothy. Jennie has not finished her story.

Jennie. I did say as how I was engaged to Hicks, but I thought he
would let me off; and Mr. Yardsley looked glad when I said that, and
said he'd make it all right with Hicks.

Yardsley. What? I? Jennie O'Brien, or whatever your horrible name
is, do you mean to say that I said I'd make it all right with Hicks?

Jennie. Not in them words, Mr. Yardsley; but you did say as how
you'd see him yourself and give him a present. You did indeed, Mr.
Yardsley, as you was a-standin' on that there Proossian rug.

Dorothy. Did you, Mr. Yardsley?

[Yardsley buries his face in his hands and groans.

Barlow. Not so ready with your explanations now, eh?

Dorothy. Mr. Barlow, really I must ask you not to interfere. Did
you say that, Mr. Yardsley?

Yardsley. I did, but--

Dorothy (frigidly). Go on, Jennie.

Jennie. Just then the front-door bell rings and Mr. Barlow comes,
and there wasn't no more importunity for me to speak; but when I got
down-stairs into the kitchen, mum, Mr. Hicks he comes in, an