Dolby. No; I can never love but one, “Rosa Bean.” Isn’t that a pretty name? I’ll show you her face (hunts pockets). Confound it, I’ve left her photograph under my pillow!
Persis. O, the wretch! I’ll never forgive him—never—(disappears into room L.).
(Enter Nelly, R. with glass pitcher of milk and goblet.)
Nelly. Here’s the milk, Mr. Dolby.
Dolby. O, thank you (she fills goblet, standing behind table. Dolby drinks). Here’s your best health. Ah, what milk! I haven’t tasted anything like that since I was—a very little child.
Nelly. Can I bring you anything else?
Dolby. No, I’m obliged to you. By the way, is there a young lady in the neighborhood named “Rosa Bean”?
Nelly. “Bean”—“Bean”—No. There are no Beans here; there’s a Rosa Higgins about half a mile from here.
Dolby. O, she won’t do.
Charles. There are Rows of Beans in the garden; how will those suit, Dixie? Ha, ha, ha!