Yardsley (with a furtive glance at Jennie). Ha, ha! What an absurd slip! Did I say feathers? I meant—I meant leaves, of course. All the leaves on the dusters are turning.
Barlow. I don't believe you know what you do mean. Who ever heard of leaves on dusters? What are dusters? Do you know, Miss Dorothy?
[As he turns to Miss Andrews, Yardsley tries to wave Jennie away. She beckons with her arms more wildly than ever, and Yardsley silently speaks the words, "Go away."
Dorothy. I'm sure I don't know of any tree by that name, but then I'm not a—not a what?
Yardsley (with a forced laugh). Treeologist.
Dorothy. What are dusters, Mr. Yardsley?
Barlow. Yes, old man, tell us. I'm anxious to find out myself.
Yardsley (aside). So am I. What the deuce are dusters, for this occasion only? (Aloud.) What? Never heard of dusters? Ho! Why, dear me, where have you been all your lives? (Aside.) Must gain time to think up what dusters are. (Aloud.) Why, they're as old as the hills.
Barlow. That may be, but I can't say I think your description is at all definite.
Dorothy. Do they look like maples?