BARKET. Might I say a word to you, sur, about Miss Jenny?
BUCKTHORN. Certainly, Barket. You and old Margery and myself have been a sort of triangular mother, so to speak, to the little girl—since her own poor mother left her to our care, when she was only a baby, in the old fort on the Plains. [At his side and unconsciously resting his arm over BARKET'S shoulder, familiarly. Suddenly draws up.] Ahem! [Then gruffly.] What is it? Proceed.
BARKET. Her mother's bosom would have been the softest place for her poor little head to rest upon, now, sur.
BUCKTHORN. [Touching his eyes.] Well!
BARKET. Ould Margery tould me in Washington that Miss Jenny and
Captain Heartsease were in love wid aitch ither.
BUCKTHORN. [Starting.] In love!
BARKET. I approved of the match.
BUCKTHORN. What the devil! [BARKET salutes quickly and starts up stage and out. BUCKTHORN moves up after him; stops at post. BARKET stops in road.
BARKET. So did ould Margery.
BUCKTHORN. March! [Angrily. BARKET salutes suddenly, and exits.] Heartsease! That young jackanapes! A mere fop; he'll never make a soldier. My girl in love with—bah! I don't believe it; she's too good a soldier, herself.