Betty: Why about those slippers; they are too small for me.
Jack [aside]: Hanged if I hadn’t forgotten all about that, but goodness knows I’ve had enough other things to worry about. [Aloud.] Oh, no, Betty, I’m sure they are the right size; you have such dear little—
Betty: But they are too small. I tried to dance in them when I got home and they hurt my feet like everything.
Jack [tenderly]: Poor little feet!
Betty: And I want a half size larger. [Sits down. Jack gets slippers and kneels to fit them.] And—and I’m awfully sorry, Jack, that I was so horrid. I’ve got a nasty, mean temper and—
Jack: Now, don’t you dare call yourself names. Why Betty, you’re the sweetest girl that ever lived, you’re—you’re the dearest thing in boots!
Betty: That’s just what daddy says when he gets the bills for them.
Jack: Oh, but I didn’t mean it that way I— [Aside.] Hang it, I wish dad weren’t taking in every word I say. [Calls.] Dad, come on out here and mind your robber’s den yourself for awhile. Betty and I are going to the ice-cream parlor. Come on, Betty. [Drags her a few steps with one pump on.]
Betty: Really Jack, don’t you think I ought to put my other pump on first? I wouldn’t like to go like this. What would people say?
Jack: What a dear little foot! [Puts her slipper on her foot.] Here you are. Come on. [Exit Betty and Jack hand in hand.]