Dilly. But the boy had another friend, weak but true: five years after, among the papers of this false friend, she found the proof to clear the boy.
Doctor. Proof! What was it?
Dilly. (Opening portfolio.) It was like this, doctor.
Doctor. Like this?—like this?—Why, I see nothing. A portfolio blotting-paper!
Dilly. But on the paper?
Doctor. Marks, nothing but marks. Yes, yes, they assume shape,—Aug. 1, Aug. 1. Gracious heavens! what is this? what is this?
Fred. I see it all. (Rushes up, and seizes the portfolio.) Girl, girl, would you kill the old man? You must not so excite him: no more of this. I’ll fling this accursed thing into the lake. (Runs up, C., and throws the portfolio off.)
Dilly. What have you done? what have you done?
Fred. Saved the old man from a fever. No more of your confounded stories, Dilly.
Dilly. Fred Hastings, you are a villain! In that portfolio is the proof of your guilt: it shall not be destroyed. (Runs up, C.; Hastings seizes her by the wrist.)