Dorothy. I can best judge of the truth of Jennie's words when she has spoken them, Mr. Yardsley. Jennie, you may explain, if you can. What do you mean by Hicks killing Mr. Yardsley, and why do you presume to call Mr. Yardsley by his first name?
Yardsley (aside). Heigho! My goose is cooked.
Barlow. I fancy you wish you had taken that walk I suggested now.
Yardsley. You always were a good deal of a fancier.
Jennie. I hardly knows how to begin, Miss Dorothy. I—I'm so flabbergasted by all that's happened this afternoon, mum, that I can't get my thoughts straight, mum.
Dorothy. Never mind getting your thoughts straight, Jennie. I do not want fiction. I want the truth.
Jennie. Well, mum, when a fine gentleman like Mr. Yardsley asks—
Yardsley. I tell you it isn't so.
Jennie. Indeed he did, mum.
Dorothy (impatiently). Did what?