Rev. J. J. No, I don’t dance.
Betty. That’s too bad. Let me show you how. It’s just as easy! Come on. (Tries to drag him up.)
Rev. J. J. No, I don’t care to dance.
Betty. I won’t call you awkward, really. You do it so, you know, (illustrates) but dancing’s no fun alone, you know. You need a girl to hug. If you learn with me you can do it with the big lady girls, the ones that you like best, you know.
Bobby. He don’t dance with ’em, he plays tag.
Rev. J. J. Oh no, my boy.
Bobby. Mamma said so. Daddy said that all the girls were chasing you, and Mamma said she guessed that you could do your share of the chasing, all right.
Betty. I know what you like—fast horses, don’t you?
Rev. J. J. Well, I have a horse, of course—
Betty. Yes, a real spanker! And a narrow buggy to take the girls to ride. Say, do you hold ’em in, when you go over the “thank you marms” and take toll? Daddy said he bet you did. He always used to. He calls it taking toll when he makes me pay him for candy with kisses. I s’pose the girls would be afraid to say no to a minister, but sometimes I say no to Daddy, just to tease him, and he calls me a little flirt, and takes ’em just the same.