Bijah. Oh, no, Miss Primrose; I only make a confidant of my friends.
Polly. Well, I'll be friends for just ten minutes.
Bijah. Will you though? Not by a large majority. No friendship for me on the instalment plan.
Polly. I'll be friends. (Gives her hand.) Now, tell me quick.
Bijah. Ha, ha, ho, ho! I thought that would fetch it. A woman's curiosity is not fireproof against a volley of gossip.
Polly. If you talk like that, I shall leave the room.
Bijah (taking her arm; brings her down front). No, you won't, you are just dying to stay here. (Holds picture and forces Polly to look at it; Polly looks at picture, then at Bijah.)
Polly. Oh, Bijah! (Hides her face on his shoulder.)
Bijah (laughing). You had better hide your face, Polly. Jealous of your own picture. That settles it: no more “Nays” for me. We'll give the folks in Oldtown a surprise, Polly, and the wedding shall be in the old church.
Polly. Oh, Bijah! But don't be in a hurry. Be serious and tell me about Mr. Roger.