Yardsley. I mean this, Jack Barlow: I mean that I am here for—for my own reasons; but you—you have come here for the purpose of—
Dorothy enters wish a tray, upon which are the tea things.
Barlow (about to retort to Yardsley, perceiving Dorothy). Ah! Let me assist you.
Dorothy. Thank you so much. I really believe I never needed help more. (She delivers the tray to Barlow, who sets it on the table. Dorothy, exhausted, drops into a chair.) Fan me—quick—or I shall faint. I’ve—I’ve had an awful time, and I really don’t know what to do!
Barlow and Yardsley (together). Why, what’s the matter?
Yardsley. I hope the house isn’t on fire?
Barlow. Or that you haven’t been robbed?
Dorothy. No, no; nothing like that. It’s—it’s about Jennie.
Yardsley (nervously). Jennie? Wha—wha—what’s the matter with Jennie?
Dorothy. I only wish I knew. I—