Polly (excited). Hush, Miss Dorothy, it ain't a fire—it's worse—it's burglars.
Dor. (screams). Oh!
Polly. Don't, Miss Dorothy; some one entered the house while you were in your room, and has stolen something.
Dor. Stolen something! What?
Polly. Something that belongs to you. It is very precious.
Dor. (looks at hand). My rings are all here.
Polly. Oh,—no—not that, something worse; (loud whisper) it's your heart.
Dor. Polly, tell me instantly, what do you mean?
Polly (excited). I mean—I mean—no, I don't mean, yes—I do—