No; he doesn’t know you. Sit still. (She turns toward Mr. Ingoldsby with a smile as he enters.) Good afternoon, Mr. Ingoldsby. Did you do it in eighty-five again today?
(Ingoldsby is a man of fifty-five or, possibly, sixty. He wears neat knickerbockers and is otherwise sprightly in his outdoor attire. He smiles rather absently as he replies.)
INGOLDSBY
Eighty-five? No, I—ah—no. I didn’t go round today. Ah—has Mrs. Briggs been here?
JESSIE
Here?
INGOLDSBY
Yes, I mean—ah—here.
JESSIE
I think she’s somewhere looking for Lancelot.