m so fond of you.

JOANNA. Dry his eyes with my own handkerchief. (He holds up his eyes
but is otherwise inconsolable.)

LADY CAROLINE. Don't pamper him.

LOB (furiously). I need to be pampered.

MRS. COADE. You funny little man. Let us go at once and look for his
wood.

(All feel that thus alone can his tears be dried.)

JOANNA. Boots and cloaks, hats forward. Come on, Lady Caroline, just
to show you are not afraid of Matey.

(There is a general exodus, and LOB left alone emerges from his
temporary retirement. He ducks victoriously, but presently is on his
knees again distressfully regarding some flowers that have fallen
from their bowl.)

LOB. Poor bruised one, it was I who hurt you. Lob is so sorry. Lie
there! (To another.) Pretty, pretty, let me see where you have a
pain? You fell on your head; is this the place? Now I make it better.
Oh, little rascal, you are not hurt at all; you just pretend. Oh
dear, oh dear! Sweetheart, don't cry, you are now prettier than ever.
You were too tall. Oh, how beautifully you smell now that you are
small. (He replaces the wounded tenderly in their bowl.) rink, drink.
Now, you are happy again. The little rascal smiles. All smile,
please--nod heads--aha! aha! You love Lob--Lob loves you.

(JOANNA and MR. PURDIE stroll in by the window.)

JOANNA. What were you saying to them, Lob?

LOB. I was saying 'Two's company, three's none.'

(He departs with a final cluck.)

JOANNA. That man--he suspects!

(This is a very different JOANNA from the one who has so far flitted
across our scene. It is also a different PURDIE. In company they
seldom look at each other, though when the one does so the eyes of
the other magnetically respond. We have seen them trivial, almost
cynical, but now we are to greet them as they know they really are,
the great strong-hearted man and his natural mate, in the grip of the
master passion. For the moment LOB'S words have unnerved JOANNA and
it is JOHN PURDIE's dear privilege to soothe her.)

PURDIE. No one minds Lob. My dear, oh my dear.

JOANNA (faltering). Yes, but he saw you kiss my hand. Jack, if Mabel
were to suspect!

PURDIE (happily). There is nothing for her to suspect.

JOANNA (eagerly). No, there isn't, is there? (She is desirous ever to
be without a flaw.) Jack, I am not doing anything wrong, am I?

PURDIE. You!

(With an adorable gesture she gives him one of her hands, and manlike
he takes the other also.)

JOANNA. Mabel is yo