Amos. Valentine’s Day once more! Strange I can’t get it out of my head! Just forty years since Polly jilted me! Why, I wonder? I never did understand. I was so sure that she cared for me—but there! Womankind is fickle. She never married, though, nor I either, big fool that I was! I couldn’t seem to help comparing every girl I met with her, and they suffered by comparison, and so here I am, a bachelor of sixty, wanting nothing but the one thing I never shall have—a wife and home of my own. (Puts a card photograph, such as were taken forty years ago, back into desk.) There, little Polly, go back to your resting-place, while I go back to work and try to forget you. (Does not close drawer, but looks up as knock is heard.) Eh? What? Come in, whoever you are. (Pauline enters.) Polly! (Gazes in surprise at her.) Who in the world are you?
Pauline. Oh, I’m Polly, just as you said, though most folks call me Pauline.
Amos. But who are you? I thought——
Pauline. You thought I was Aunt Polly? Do I look like her?
Amos. Is Miss Polly Dennison your aunt?
Pauline. My great-aunt.
Amos. Then you’re Angie Dennison’s girl?
Pauline. Yes, I’m Pauline Waldron, and I’m visiting at Aunt Polly’s.
Amos. But what brings you here?
Pauline. I’m playing Cupid. (Catches sight of picture.) Oh, is that Aunt Polly? What a dear, old-fashioned little girl! May I see it closer?