Hunker. Lovely name. Here’s to Clara (drinking). Sit down; we’ll soon be pals.
Twitters. Sit down, dear. (Clara sits amazed.)
Hunker. Two young people like us can’t be thrown together in a house without liking each other pretty well?
Clara (to Twitters). I cannot submit to this, papa.
Twitters (to Clara). We should never take offence when none is meant, dear.
Hunker. I’m an adventurous cuss, Miss Clara—just on from Arizona to float a gold mine on the eastern market. Going to let Twitters in at bed-rock prices—eh, Twitters?
Twitters. Yes, yes, of course.
Hunker. We had hard old sledding on the plains, at times, Miss Clara.
Clara. Indeed, sir!
Hunker. Chased by Indians twenty miles, riding with Custer—you know Custer? Seventeen of them miles I had a bullet in my leg (starting to pull up his trouser leg)—want to see the scar?