Bijah. You know how he did old Newcomb up that day in camp?
Polly. Yes, that was the time when Pete was injured and was sent home by the colonel.
Bijah. Wal, Newcomb ain't done for yet. You see, when Mr. Roger was in the bank, I was there too. Of course, I wasn't president or director, Polly; only had to sorter keep my eye on everybody, and I jest did. I saw something that when it's known will be worse than dynamite, you jest bet.
Polly. It seems to me that you are a rolling-stone, Bijah. The last time I heard of you before the war, you were poultry farming in Oldtown.
Bijah. I could not make that work. I had read about the money in raising poultry. Fortunes made in no time; and my fancy pictured this enormous poultry farm. The name of Bijah Bright immortalized. Oh, yes, there's money in it, Polly; for I left all mine there, and had only experience to put in my pocket.
Polly. But what is the wonderful news you have to tell?
Bijah. Just wait. You want to be proud of me. It will be a scorcher.
Polly. Don't be so mysterious, Bijah; you don't know everything in this world.
Bijah. No, and I don't want to. Let me be sure that the heart of Miss Polly Primrose beats for me alone, and that will satisfy my cravings for knowledge. Come, let us depart to the charms of the culinary department. Methinks I see visions of your pies, Polly. There in each other's genial society we will partake of pie, and talk over that coming wedding in Oldtown. (Exeunt Polly and Bijah, R.; enter Colonel and Kilroy, L.)