Miss Spaulding, looking up from her music: “What is it, Ethel?”
Miss Reed: “Nothing, nothing; I—I—thought it was getting too warm. Go on, dear; don’t let me interrupt you.” After a moment of heroic self-denial she softly presses the register open with her foot.
Ransom, coming back to the register: “It all began in that way. I had the good fortune one day to rescue her from a—cow.”
Miss Spaulding, desisting from her piano: “What is the matter?”
Miss Reed, clapping the register to: “This ridiculous book! But don’t—don’t mind me, Nettie.” Breathlessly: “Go—go—on!” Miss Spaulding resumes, and again Miss Reed softly presses the register open.
Ransom, after a pause: “The cow was grazing, and had no more thought of hooking Miss”—
Miss Reed: “Oh, I didn’t suppose he would!—Go on, Nettie, go on! The hero—such a goose!”
Ransom: “I drove her away with my camp-stool, and Miss—the young lady—was as grateful as if I had rescued her from a menagerie of wild animals. I walked home with her to the farm house, and the trouble began at once.” Pantomime of indignant protest and burlesque menace on the part of Miss Reed. “There wasn’t another well woman in the house, except her friend Miss Spaulding, who was rather old and rather plain.” He takes another turn to the window.
Miss Reed: “Oh!” She shuts the register, but instantly opens it again. “Louder, Nettie.”