Herbert. You're not! You're a—oh, don't you understand? I can't keep from telling you any longer, really—I tried to in the carriage, but the road was so bumpy, I—— It seems as though I must make you understand. Please try to—I—— Don't you see! I care for you very, very much and—I wrote my people all about it and—oh, don't you see, Miss—— I mean Minnie—— I want to ask—— Will you——
Minnie [they are very close. She looks up at him feelingly]. Herbert! [The moon, aghast, dazed, thrown into a veritable spasm of lunar consternation, darts behind a cloud. But these two do not notice. The moon is forgotten—all is forgotten—the stars, the earth, the hour—even botany! Their heads are near together; thus they remain a long time, without speaking. The katydid has ceased again her dismal song, and long since the cat slunk away behind the grape-trellis to seek new fields. The intense stillness of the hour absorbs them and makes them a part of itself. After a myriad æons a bird, somewhere, pipes a warning note, which is taken up by another bird. The couple on the further porch stir. Her head has been resting against his shoulder and for a little time she has slept. In one hand he holds a bit of angel's food, left over from the luncheon, which he from time to time has nibbled indifferently.]
Jamie [flinging the cake away and stretching]. Gee whiz!
Hilda [starting, sleepily]. Wha—what is it?
Jamie [grumblingly]. Aw, nothin', I just wish they'd come, that's all.
Hilda [plaintively]. Aren't you happy, dear?
Jamie [yawning]. Oh, I'm happy enough, I suppose, but this porch isn't exactly downy; I feel as though I'd been sitting here a month.
Hilda [sighing]. Well I can't see where they are, either—for the life of me.
Jamie [bitterly]. The darned fools!
Hilda [with horror]. Jamie!