Dorothy. I think so too, Mr. Barlow. You are almost too kind, it seems to me.
Yardsley. Oh no; not too kind, Miss Andrews. Barlow simply realizes that one who has proposed marriage to young girls as frequently as he has knows how the thing is done, and he wishes to give me the benefit of his experience. (Aside.) That’s a facer for Barlow.
Barlow. Ha, ha, ha! Another joke, I suppose. You see, my dear Bob, that I am duly appreciative. I laugh. Ha, ha, ha! But I must say I laugh with some uncertainty. I don’t know whether you intended that for a joke or for a staggerer. You should provide your conversation with a series of printed instructions for the listener. Get a lot of cards, and have printed on one, “Please laugh”; on another, “Please stagger”; on another, “Kindly appear confused.” Then when you mean to be jocose hand over the laughter card, and so on. Shall I stagger?
Dorothy. I think that Mr. Yardsley meant that for a joke. Didn’t you, Mr. Yardsley?
Yardsley. Why, certainly. Of course. I don’t really believe Barlow ever had sand enough to propose to any one. Did you, Jack?
Barlow (indignant). Well, I rather think I have.
Dorothy. Ho, ho! Then you are an experienced proposer, Mr. Barlow?
Barlow (confused). Why—er—well—um—I didn’t exactly mean that, you know. I meant that—ah—if it ever came to the—er—the test, I think I could—I’d have sand enough, as Yardsley puts it, to do the thing properly, and without making a—ah—a Yardsley of myself.
Yardsley (bristling up). Now what do you mean by that?
Dorothy. I think you are both of you horrid this afternoon. You are so quarrelsome. Do you two always quarrel, or is this merely a little afternoon’s diversion got up for my especial benefit?