Mrs. Felton.—I hope he will not be cross to the dear child—
Squire.—Come, quick!
[Exit all except Dorothy.]
Dorothy (Hurriedly searching).—What can I get? (picks up apron) Ah, this will do! (removes hat) I hear his footstep on the gravel walk. (Listens.) Gracious, how my heart beats!
[Loud knock at the door.]
I wish papa was here.
[Prolonged knock.]
Well, he can’t eat me, anyhow. (Opens door.)
[Enter Dingle.]
Dingle (Surveying Dorothy through eye-glasses).—Ah! I presume you are the daughter of the, ah—