Capt. r. c., with gun raised; Maynard c., with hand on gun; Stub l., holding up fowl; others starting forward watching group. Tom has Nat down in the loft with fist raised above him. Kitty kneels r. of them, with her apron to her face.
Curtain.
[ACT II.—Past Redemption.]
Exterior of Maynard's farm-house. House on r. with porch covered with vines; fence running across stage at back, with gateway c., backed by road and landscape. l. c., large tree, with bench running round its trunk; trees l. Time, sunset. Enter Tom from l., through gate, a bunch of flowers in his hand.
Tom. The same old errand: chasing that will-o'-wisp, Kitty Corum,—she who is known as the girl with two strings to her bow; who has one hand for Tom Larcom and another for Nat Harlow, and no heart for either. I'm the laughing-stock of the whole neighborhood; but misery loves company, and Nat is in the same box. If she would only say No, and have done with it, I believe I should be happy, especially if Nat received the "No." She won't let either of us go. But she must. To-night I'll speak for the last time; I'll pop. If she takes me, well: if not, I'll pop off and leave the field to Nat. Luckily I found out she was to help Mrs. Maynard to-day. Nat hasn't heard of it, and no doubt he's trudging off to old Corum's. Here she comes. Lay there, you beauties! (Puts flowers on bench.) Kitty will know what that means. (Exit l. Enter Kitty from house.)
Kitty. What a nice woman Mrs. Charity Goodall is, to be sure! so graceful and sweet, not a bit like her big rough brother, John Maynard. But then, she's learned the city ways. A widow, poor thing—and not so poor, either; for her husband, when he died, left her a consolation in the shape of a very handsome fortune. (Sees flowers.) I declare, somebody's attentions are really overpowering. No matter where I am, either at home or abroad, when night comes I always find a bunch of flowers placed in my way. Of course these are for me: no one would think of offering flowers to Jessie. Poor Jessie! 'tis eighteen months since Harry Maynard left home, and six months since a line has been received from him. Ah, well! this comes of having but one string to your bow. I manage matters differently. (Sits on bench. Enter Nat from l., through gate; steps behind tree.) Now, I really would like to know who is so attentive, so loving, as to send me these pretty flowers.
Nat (sticks his head round tree, r.). And can't you guess, Kitty?
Kitty (starting). O Nat!