JIM. Why, I used to think so, Joe, but since this feller's been in town—[Slowly crosses and sits on table.
MRS. VERNON. Pshaw—I'll bet that mustach of his'n is dyed.
JOE. Don't think about him, Jim, 'cause, if it comes to that, I'll put my foot down.
JIM. Not if Kate liked him.
JOE. Yes, no matter who liked him.
JIM. But I'd want her to like me.
JOE. Well, she does.
JIM. You think so.
JOE. Sure.
JIM. Dog gone it! I'd swap my poney for a trottin' horse, an' git one of them two-wheeled carts an' practice in it till I wasn't seasick, and me an' Kate of a Sunday—say—driving through Bowling Green!