Bobby. They’re sticking out of your pocket.
Bert. So they are. So long, kid.
(Hurries out, forgetting valentine. Bobby spies it and picks it up.)
Bobby. Gee! It’s a valentine for Eloise. Bet it ain’t as pretty as the one I bought. There won’t no silly girl get it, either. I wonder——
(He starts to take it out of envelope, hears some one coming, and runs out, dropping it. There should be a curtain, apparently separating two rooms, and behind this Bobby hides.)
Enter Uncle Bertram; goes to desk.
Uncle B. (addressing his envelope). Well, well! That’s the fortieth valentine I’ve sent Ellen. I sent the first, I remember, when I was a three-year-old, in kilts, and she a baby in little white dresses and blue shoes. Ha, hum! Such is life! Here we are, both middle-aged people, though blest if I feel so! If she’d only answered that twentieth one, I might not have been sending the fortieth. I wonder—— (He toys with letter.)
Mrs. Winston (looking in). Oh, here you are, Bertram. You’re wanted on the ’phone.
Uncle B. (rising). I’ll be right there.