Yardsley (feeling that he must say something). Yes. I suppose all the feathers on the maple-trees are turning red by this time.
Dorothy. Feathers, Mr. Yardsley?
Barlow. Feathers?
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.