(Major Pinkerton Potts and Dorothy enter, both in riding costume, and laughing heartily at Potts's appearance, who is brushing dirt from his clothes.)
Dor. Well done, Pinky, that last leap was too much for you. That's your punishment for insisting upon pouring into my tired ears, a whole battalion of pretty speeches. Pride must have a fall. If your shots in battle do not find a more responsive target, your record will not be an enviable one.
Potts. How can I help it? Such bright eyes and glowing cheeks cannot but provoke such thoughts to utterance. I say, Miss Dorothy, you do like a fellow, just a little, don't you?
Dor. Like you? Indeed yes. You are one of the nicest men I know. There is a large corner of my heart quite devoted to you.
Potts. Well, to be liked is something. But, if you only knew, how much I thought of you by day, and dreamed of you by night.
Dor. Ha, ha! to think of Pinky Potts assuming the sentimental rôle. Dear me. I never dreamed of such a thing. Why, you are too old a friend. What should I do, if I were to fall in love with you? It would spoil all the fun, and now, you are my devoted slave.
Potts. What's the matter with my being in love and playing the devoted too?
Dor. Never. Now, Pinky, you are just the dearest fellow in the world, and I am awfully fond of you; you are no end jolly. So come (offers hand, which Potts takes), let's be friends forever, and keep sentiment out of the question. (Seriously.) And you know, Pinky, I can never forget Roger Carruth.
Potts. No, Miss Dorothy, and I would not have you. Roger and I are too old friends. I would not mar his happiness or yours, for all the world. (Kisses Dorothy's hand.)