ADAM CHERRY.
Ah, now, that old woman has been doing that. You mustn't think about his not passing. He's bound to pass. I do wish she'd keep downstairs.
NELLY MORRIS.
Oh, it's better to be ready to face a thing, I suppose, than to be crushed by it when it does come. There are plenty do fail, and they are not always those that deserve to. And you see he's not strong and well just now, and it is such a hard fight. (Vehemently) Oh, if I could only do something to help him instead of being a drag upon him. It is so hard. Other girls can earn money—I haven't been brought up to do anything. There's nothing I can do—nothing, nothing.
ADAM CHERRY.
(Earnestly.) Nothing! (Nelly, startled by his earnest tone, turns and looks at him.) Suppose, my dear, there—there was something you could do—which would enable somebody else to help him—something which mightn't even be very unpleasant for you, either, and that only wanted a kind, loving, little heart. Suppose, my dear, some old fellow—not very old, you know, but just old enough to—to know your value, my dear—should say to you: I love you very, very dearly, my dear—and it would make me very, very happy to make you happy. Will you try to love me, my dear? Will you give me the right to—to take away all this trouble from you—to—to help you both. (Nelly slowly crosses to fire, and stands looking into it.) Don't you see, my dear I should be one of the family, and he couldn't mind my helping him then. You see—I—I've been working all my life, and making money, and now I've no one that I care for to spend it on. It would be so pleasant for me to—to feel that I was helping some brave, clever young fellow to get on in the world. It would make me so proud and happy to be helping those you cared for—to be taking care of you.
NELLY MORRIS.
(She still looks into fire and Cherry stands waiting At length she turns with a calm face and firm, closed lips.) Yes, I will be your wife, Mr. Cherry—if you will be content with me as I am.
ADAM CHERRY.
My dear——