[Exits hastily L.]
Dingle (Looking L).—O Jupiter, what a beauty! How
lightly she trips across the hall. Sweet Dorothy, thou hast won my heart.
[Enter Dorothy R.]
But why does she persist in denying her identity? A servant volunteered to point out both her and the Felton girl; she evidently desires to—
Dorothy (Coughs).
Dingle (Aside).—The tenant’s daughter. I would recognize that haughty minx though she were doubly masked.
Dorothy.—Pardon me, sir; I would inquire the way to the banquet room.
Dingle (Aside).—It will never do to let her recognize my voice; I will assume a falsetto tone. (Aloud) You had better find a servant, Miss Gypsy Queen; I am not posted in the commissary department.
Dorothy.—I perceive that all knights are not Quixotes in gallantry. Thanks, however, for your suggestion.