Stuart (soothingly). Excuse me, my boy. It is brutal in me, but I am trying to see if I can’t laugh you out of it.
Fred (sits chair l. as if discouraged). No use! As they say out West, it’s come to stay and grow up with the country.
Stuart. Oh, I didn’t mean your love for Miss Wortley. She’s a sweet, unspoiled girl, in spite of her own and her papa’s money, and I hope you’ll win her. I was only trying to cheer you out of your dumps, and make you look at the golden side of things.
Fred. That’s just what I see all the time, and what comes between us. I can’t forget her money.
Stuart (springing to his feet). There! That goes to prove a pet little theory of mine, that it is rather hard for a rich girl to marry well.
Fred. I should think you needed a confirmatory evidence.
Stuart. You are just like the rest! You take the conventionally superficial view of it.
Fred. Very well, turn lawyer and argue your case before referee Mr. Frederick Stevens, junior member of the celebrated firm of Mary, Green and Hart.
Stuart. You fire my ambition. Well, (rising and imitating legal style) your honour, and gentlemen of the jury, a priori and imprimis we start with the postulate that the party of the first part, otherwise the girl with money, is usually so spoiled that most fellows won’t care for her. But we will leave that out of the argument and say that she is a nice girl. Well, by her parents, her friends, and her reading, she is taught to think that every man who is attentive to her may be a fortune-hunter. The consequence is that she is suspicious, and may say or do something to wound or insult a fellow who cares for her, and so drive him off.
Fred. That’s one point for your side.