The ranch girl, a play in four acts ...

Act. IV.— Same as Act I. Place. — Southwestern Texas

Time. — The Present.

(All Rights Reserved.)

Copyright, 1910,

by

George L. Raymond,

1 >

Characters

Harry Merriman — A wealthy young man from New York, and graduate of Harvard, who is visiting the Ranch country in company with Alice Alwell and Betsy Blinder, to the latter of whom he is engaged to be married.

Layton Lorn — A young man from Boston who, for some years, has been proprietor of a Ranch ; in love with Alice Alwell and brother of Winnie Lorn.

Thomas Gall — An Eastern man who also is proprietor of a ranch ; somewhat of a misanthrope; uncle of both Alice Alwell and Betsy Blinder.

Foodle — Servant of Layton Lorn.

Winnie Lorn — Young lady from Boston, sister of Layton Lorn, and on a visit to his Ranch.

Alice Alwell — Young lady from New York, cousin of Betsy Blinder, niece of Thomas Gall, and on a visit to his Ranch; in love with Layton Lorn.

Betsy Blinder — Young lady from New York, cousin of Alice Alwell, niece of Thomas Gall, and on a visit to his Ranch; engaged to be married to Harry Merriman.

Waiter, Members of a Traveling Company of Singers, Cowboys or Herdsmen of Ranch.

Dress and Properties

Harry Merriman — In Acts I and IV, a gentleman's traveling suit, with or without knee breeches. In Acts II and III, a girl's dress with bare or open neck and arms, feet visible, etc.

Layton Lorn — In Acts I and II, slouch hat, colored shirt, with or without coat, knee breeches or top boots; in Act IV, gentleman's traveling suit. In Act II, a belt containing two pistols, to be taken from a table drawer.

Thomas Gall — Slouch hat, colored shirt, with or without coat, knee breeches or top boots.

Foodie — Slouch hat, colored shirt, top boots.

Winnie Lorn—In Acts I and IV, either a traveling or a mountain dress ; in Acts II and III, either a mountain or an indoor working dress; in Act I, a cap or a hat without a brim, and a veil, also flowers in hand. In Act II a hat that can be removed, apron, a note book, and a bundle of clothes; also belt containing two pistols, to be taken from a table drawer in Act IV, a hat and sunshade and a fan hanging from belt. Also a package of letters.

Alice Alwell, Betsy Blinder — Lady's walking or traveling suits, carrying umbrellas in Act I, and umbrellas with outside cloaks or waterproofs in Act III. Betsy has a fan hanging from a chain attached to her belt and in Act I has a bonnet without a brim and has a package containing a brooch.

Waiter — A man's suit and a napkin.

Members of a College Student Quartette— -Either in fancy costume with knee breeches, or in men's ordinary traveling suits. The First Singer in Act I has a red wig in his pocket.

Cowboys or Herdsmen— Slouch hats, colored shirts, top boots, whips, etc.

PLOT

Act. I. — Harry Mcrriman, giving concerts in the West as a member of a college quartette, meets, at a railway station, Betsy Blinder, to whom he is engaged, together with her cousin, Alice Alwell. — They are visiting the ranch of their uncle, Thomas Gall. — His ranch is within a few miles of that of Layton Lorn, who, a few years before, has been engaged to Alice. — Lorn happens to be at the station with his sister, Winnie, who, because recovering from measles, wears a thick veil concealing her face. — A waiter refers to her as Lorn's wife. — Betsy recognizes Lorn, and, in spite of Harry's protest that they ought not to bring Alice and Lorn together, insists upon introducing Harry to them. — This, and a deception with reference to a brooch, reveals Betsy's character to him. — He is evidently fascinated by Winnie, and when, later, Betsy and Alice, both influenced by jealousy, as w r ell as by misunderstanding of her. exact relation to Lorn, who happens to say that he is not married, talk against her, he defends her with extravagant praise. — Then, suddenly, Gall comes, and tells them that Winnie is Lorn's sister.

Act. II. — Winnie is left alone on her brother's ranch, except for some cowboys. — Harry and his companions, in walking across the country, have come upon some horses, and Harry, in fun, has mounted one of them that has run with him toward Layton's ranch. The Cowboys, supposing Harry to be trying to steal the horse, chase him, and fire at him. — He takes refuge in the ranchhouse with Winnie. She recognizes him, but he does not, at first, recognize her. — To save him from the Cowboys, whom she may not be able to control, she dresses him in a woman's gown, and passes him off as a servant-girl whom she has been expecting. — The deception is aided by a vaudeville wig which Harry is seen putting into his pocket in the first act. — Winnie tries to teach Harry housekeeping and cleansing. — In a little time, the other Singers arrive. — Then the Cowboys come to search the ranch, equally for Harry, and for the spirits on which they expect to get drunk. — Harry pulls his pistol, and, aided by the Singers called in from the next room, the Cowboys are foiled.

Act. III.— -While Harry is still in his disguise, Bessie, Alice and Gall suddenly take refuge in Lorn's ranch to escape a rainstorm.— Betsy, put out by the weather, reveals her unfortunate temper by berating everything and everybody including Harry, to whom Alice happens to refer. — Betsy, at last, orders the servant-girl, Harry, to remove her gown, and, while she scolds and abuses him, he pulls off his wig.

Act. IV— Betsy, aided by Alice and Gall, and, threatening a lawsuit for breach of promise, tries to make up with Harry. — Then, getting angry at him, she publicly dismisses him, much to his delight.— Gall gives Betsy his opinion of her deceitfulness — Winnie, who has at first rejected, accepts Harry, and Alice, also, makes up with Lorn.

Act I

Scene : Open space near a Southwestern Texas railway station. Mountain scenery backing. At right, between Upper and First Entrances, part of a small hotel or restaurant with a bench resting against its wall, and in front of it, nearer the middle of the stage, a table, behind which are three or more chairs. At left, between Upper and Second Entrances, part of a railway station building with the sign "R. R. Ticket Office" on it. Entrances Right Upper behind hotel, Right Third, by a door into hotel {where there might be a porch with steps), Right Second, in front of hotel, Left Upper and Left Second. The curtain rising discloses members of a College Quartette making a singing tour in the West. One of the Singers is Harry Merriman.

First Singer. Have you noticed the echoes here?

Second Singer. Very fine ! worth giving a song, if merely to hear them applaud us.

ALL SING.

Oh, what is the matter, and why do we care

For an empty, visionless whiff of air?

Ah, though the wind be nothing to see,

It bends and batters and breaks the tree;

And, oh, we know a breeze that serves

To shock and shiver and shatter the nerves,

And snuff the light of life with a breath;

It has nothing to see, but it ends in death —

Ho ho, ho ho,

That blow, blow, blow, blow, blow !

Oh, what is the matter, and why do we care For a silent sight of the sunshine there? Ah, though no sound may rouse the ear, The bud and blossom of spring are here; And, oh, we know a sight so bright It cheers the world like heavenly light, Till far away fly doubt and strife; It has nothing to hear, but it lures to life —

High high, high high,

That eye, eye, eye, eye, eye !

(As the chorus ends, the First Singer, in taking a handkerchief from his pocket, draws out with it a brilliantly red wig.)

Second Singer. Hello! — and what have you there?

First Singer {exhibiting the wig). It resembles Harry's wig.

Harry (to First Singer). My wig?

First Singer. Left out when packing! I found it under the table.

Harry. And lucky for me that you did ! Here, let me relieve you of it. (First Singer hands the wig to Harry, who puts it in his pocket, as he goes on to say:) My role, if not crowned by this, would appear to be poorly played as a captain's of German hussars not wearing his horse-hair plume. No show for me or of me in vaudeville, then, you know. Just think of my star-song, shorn of the brilliance of all these rays, — would be dead as an Indian's yelp were he scalped. (Sounds of an arriving railway train are heard.)

First Singer. Why, there comes the train !

Second Singer. And now for your sweetheart, Harry. And if you are feeling too bashful, hide under your wig, my boy.

Exeunt — Left Second — Harry and Third Singer.

First Singer. Is not so bad an idea. No man of us knows a sweetheart until he has heard . and seen her when not on her guard. Fact is, the truth in the world, like a fox on a farm, has been forced to hide in order to live; so finding it always involves finding out what has been kept in.

Exeunt — Left Second — First and Second Singers.

Enter — Left Upper — Gall, closely followed by Alice Alwell. Gall has on a soft felt hat, colored shirt and top boots. Alice is in a fashionable traveling costume. Gall is loaded down with an umbrella, valise, shawl-strap, etc. Alice carries a sunshade.

Gall. So glad to see you two girls. And, Alice, how you have

grown! The image, too, of your mother.

Alice. You know how to compliment, uncle. Gall. (Looking around, then crossing the stage to bench in front

of hotel, and placing luggage on or near it.) Your journey

pleasant? (The two take seats at the table.) Alice. Delightful, not a single detention. Gall (looking toward Left Upper Entrance). Not till you got out

here, you mean. Who are those fellows that met you? Alice. Are students from Harvard.

Gall. From Harvard? And what are they doing in ranchdom? Alice. Are giving concerts around. — Oh, less for the money, you

know, than just for a lark!

Gall. I see; and lighted down here by appointment! Alice (laughing). To tell you the truth, Uncle Tom, that Mr.

Merriman there is engaged to Betsy.

Gall (taking bill of fare from the table, and rapping for Waiter).

Engaged? For long? — and why not married? No cash for it?

Alice. He has, yes. The match would be brilliant for her. I have thought though— he met her at Cambridge — it might be a college engagement.

Gall. And what is a college engagement?

Alice. Why, that of a home-sick boy, who wants a mother or sister.

Gall. More prose than poetry, Alice, in that. He goes back with you ?

Alice. Yes; arranged that way, I believe.

Gall. {Rapping again for the Waiter.) May prove him a sensible man. Our natures are much like buckets — slop over the most when jolted. And what jolts more than a journey? No wise man swallows his physic until he has had it well shaken.

Alice. You mean that Harry? —

Gall. {Rapping once more for Waiter.) I mean that it often might turn out as well to take one's wedding journey before, not after, the church has shut one out from hearing, till he or his mate are dead, any more of the wedding music.

Alice. But Harry is not like that. He is never serious, uncle.

Enter — Right Second — Waiter.

Gall {to Waiter). You think it economy, eh! To keep your customers waiting till at their hungriest? Well? {Looking at bill of fare and handing it to Alice) — And Alice, what will you have? {To Waiter.) You serve a regular dinner?

Waiter. In half an hour.

Gall. {Looking toward Alice who nods approvingly.) Serve us then a dinner for four. (To Alice.) And so you think your jovial friend not serious, Alice. I doubt it. The birds that sing most are the birds whose natures the most need singing; and the men that make merry the most are the men whose natures most need a world that appears to be merry.

Alice. With Harry, it seems to be merely exuberant life, bubbling over.

Gall. A student of human nature, or lunacy — much the same thing— finds out that those whose wits bubble over the first are the first to be losing their wits; that the mind whose thought comes first as a joke to be cracked, is the mind that is first to be cracked itself. Yes, Alice, the lightest of moods, and the brightest as well, are often mere spray flung up from the waves that a serious blow has been tossing.

Alice. Aha! You seem roiled yourself.

Gall. I married one time you remember — Miss Betsy's aunt; and at present you think that I live with her, eh? {Looking toward Left Entrance.) But there they come. It reminds me that I must look after my donkeys.

Gall and Alice rise.

Exeunt — Right Second — Gall.

Enter — Left Second — Betsy, in fashionable traveling costume, wearing a hat or bonnet without a brim and carrying a fan, a large umbrella and a very small box.

Betsy. (Looking back toward Left, and speaking to Alice, in a vexed tone.) Now, what is that Harry doing? He has left me again, all alone. I never saw such a — why! (Sitting at the table and opening the box in her hand.) Do you see what came in the mail that Uncle just handed me, eh? (Taking from a box a brooch.) The brooch Aunt Clara had promised. Absurd to send it out here, though it was my birthday! Wait! — (Looking toward the Left with a meditative air.) It was when I told Harry I thought it was he had invited us girls to the ball at the Harvard club — it was then he proposed to me. Humph! (Looking at brooch, and then toward Left.)

Alice. You are going to make Harry believe that you think that the brooch came from him?

Betsy. Why not? — He might have sent something. He should have sent something; and I, I mean to teach him a lesson. He has been too backward, of late.

Enter — Left Second — Harry in traveling costume — loaded down with shawl-straps, valises, etc.

Exit — Right Third — Alice.

Betsy. (Rising and rushing at Harry, causing her umbrella to

be thrust violently toward him.) O, Harry, you dear old thing! Harry. Hold on. Do you think me a reindeer to be gone for

with an umbrella?

Betsy. (Holding up the brooch.) But, Harry, just look at this

brooch. It has come already, you see.

Harry. (Putting his luggage on one of the chairs.) But I — Betsy. No matter, now, Harry. No need of your saying a word. Harry. It was not —

Betsy. Oh, no ; it was not — not told me, but then I could guess. Harry. But it might be unjust, you know.

Betsy. At least, not so to your heart; nor to mine, if I wanted to

think it. (Suddenly changing the subject.) Will you stay with

us long here, Harry?

Harry. Depends on my business.

Betsy. What ?

Harry. On my business.

Betsy. Humph, what is that?

Harry. (Arranging the luggage.) Just now, is attending to you. Betsy. (Shaking the brooch at him.) You would like to spend

all of your life attending to some one's wants. Harry. But, really, now, that brooch — Betsy. (Coquettishly placing her fan on his shoulder.) Come,

come, what I said was true. You would like to spend — Harry. Yes, but I was talking of getting, not spending, of

business.

Betsy. Business?

Harry. Yes — the art of getting and keeping what every one else

is wanting.

Betsy. (Taking the words as a compliment to herself.) Oh,

Harry, you flatter one so!

Enter — Right Second — Waiter with napkin in hand.

Enter — Left Second — Lorn and Winnie.

Harry (to Waiter). Has anyone ordered a dinner? Waiter (pointing to Lorn and Winnie). Oh, yes — that man and his wife.

Exeunt — Left Upper — Lorn and Winnie.

Betsy (looking after them). As I live! It is Layton Lorn. I

knew he had gone on a ranch. It is likely he lives close by here.

You know he was once engaged, or as good as engaged, to

Alice.

Harry. Miss Alwell?

Betsy. Yes. He was poor. Her father broke off the engagement ;

he came out West. We had heard of another attachment; and

look — his brand new wife, I suppose.

Harry (to Waiter). Has no one else ordered dinner? — Mr. Gall,

for instance. You know him?

Waiter. Oh, yes! — a dinner for four.

Harry. All right! How soon can we have it? Waiter. In twenty-five minutes, I think.

Exit — Right Second — Waiter — very slowly.

Harry. (Looking after the Waiter.) That waiter is like myself.

Whenever I have to wait, I much prefer to sit down. (Motioning to chairs, Betsy and Harry sit dozvn. She places the brooch

in the box which she leaves in her lap.) Betsy. Do I look as well in this hat as I did in the other one,

Harry ?

Harry. Oh, no.

Betsy. (Rather reluctantly.) Why, others think "Yes." And you

ought to think, you ought, that I always look well in all hats. Harry. But the other hat had a brim; and, whenever the sun is

shining who could look as well at things in a hat that has not a

brim ?

Betsy. (Shaking her finger at him.) A regular Midas, Harry!

Turn everything that you touch — Harry. Into gold?

Betsy. No, something better.

Harry. One tickling touch of my hand could make one a Merri-

man, eh?

Betsy. It would be so much for us both to be one in everything,

Harry.

Harry. You women all want that— to be won; but some want the men a little more won than themselves. And when both are made one, which is it? It is sometimes the one that is not won.

Betsy. How silly you are, when you try. Last night I dreamt —

Harry. About late suppers or grandmothers, which?

Betsy. Shall I tell you? I thought I had wings.

Harry. An angel?

Betsy. A humming bird —

Harry. Humming? At what?

Betsy. Why, around a rose that rose —

Harry. And fell —

Betsy. And fell? Why, what do you think me describing?

Harry. Why, humming in sleep, was it not? Or the lungs that were making the humming? And rose and fell will fit either.

Betsy. My humming in sleep !— in sleep ! That is not a pleasant suggestion.

Harry. Then what were you going to say ?

Betsy. That rose round which I was humming, was you.

Harry. And that reminds me that / had a dream.

Betsy. What was it?

Harry. I forget what the dream was about; but when I woke up a mosquito was humming and —

Betsy. Oh, now, Harry!

Enter— Right Second — Alice and Gall.

Alice. Come look at our wagons out here.

Harry and Betsy rise. As she rises, the box containing the brooch

falls to the ground, and remains there.

Betsy. (After giving a spiteful look at Harry, to Gall.) A

thirty-mile ride is long. Do you think there will be any danger? Gall Not unless you fall out by the way. The wagon has seats

without backs.

Exit— Right Second— Betsy.

(Gall continues to Harry.) If you were but going with us— Harry. (Placing his hand on his pistol pocket, then extending hands.) My arms might support them, you think?

Exit— Right Second— Harry.

Gall. (To Alice.) If I know Betsy, I think if he tried to support her long, they would both fall out together.

Exit— Right Second— Gall and Alice.

Enter— Left Upper— Layton Lorn and Winnie Lorn. Lorn has broad-brimmed Mexican felt hat. colored shirt and high-topped boots Winnie is in mountain costume and cap without brim {so Uiatthe veil, to be mentioned presently, can be bound over her eyes). She carries wild flowers in her hand, which, presently, she places on the table. She seats herself at the right of this table and Lorn at the left.

Lorn. No girl upon this train, Winnie! No hope of her coming, I fear ! You will have to continue to cook, and to wait, and to keep on scrubbing. You should never have come to the ranch. I fear we shall tire you to death — is too much to ask you to be both sister and servant — am sorry you rode here to meet me today. But I was afraid that the girl would be timid if I were alone.

Winnie. But, Latie, I liked the ride ; not for anything would I have missed it. You know we came over the hills, and then through the dearest of valleys all covered with prairie flowers, like a bed with a patch-work spread. You see, I have brought you some. (She begins to make a little bouquet for a buttonhole.)

Lorn. I am glad that you take to flowers. I fear you will find little else out here to enjoy.

Winnie. I shall have, for one thing, my brother Latie.

Lorn. Not much of the time, I take it. I am kept very busy, you know.

Winnie. And then I shall have the sheep, and the cows, and the dogs, and the men.

Lorn. Such men ! You will never take much to them.

Winnie. They are animals, too. (She rises, and begins to pin her bouquet on Lorn's breast.)

Lorn. And at times, might be made ornamental?

Winnie. (Standing off, and regarding the bouquet.) They are ornamental, at times.

Lorn. To pin to, or tie to, Winnie? There are no such men out here.

Winnie. And no such women, old boy — the reason why I came to be here.

Lorn. A reason, as well, why I should father you, Winnie. See now — have been tempted again by these flowers. You must keep your veil down — so. (Rising and pinning Winnie's veil over her face.) The sun is too bright for your eyes. A girl that has measles at twenty must be treated as if she were ten. (Winnie sits clown again.)

Enter — Left Upper — Harry and Betsy, and watch Lorn and Winnie, whose face is now wholly concealed.

Betsy (starting forward). I am going to meet her.

Harry. Wait! — Let us think, a moment, of Alice! — was in love with him once, you said. If the three were to come together, and a spark of the old love lived, who knows? — It might start a fire —

Betsy. Of blushes, I see. What a joke!

Harry. (Surprised and troubled.) You think lost love is a joke? (Mainly to himself as he turns to one side.) We laugh at it, yes, I know. And so does the devil— about the only thing that he laughs at. And a deal of fun, there is, too, for him on the earth, I suppose.

Betsy. What is that?

Harry. I was thinking —

Betsy. Of me?

Harry. {Surprised, yet significantly.) Perhaps. We were talking of Alice.

Betsy. You think more of Alice than me?

Harry. I think more of her than of them. {Pointing toward Winnie and Lorn.) You deem it best they should meet?

Betsy. If not, they will have to.

Harry. Humph, humph!

Betsy. {Advancing tozvard Lorn and Winnie from the left.) Why, why, Mr. Lorn, as I think.

Lorn. Miss Blinder! — and what brought you here?

Betsy. Just came from New York on a visit. You know my uncle, perhaps, Thomas Gall, whose ranch is close by.

Lorn. Delighted to welcome you, too! Here, Winnie, Miss Blinder — an old acquaintance of mine. (Winnie rises and exchanges bows with Betsy..)

Betsy. So happy! (Introducing Merriman.) My friend, Mr. Merriman. (Lorn and Harry shake hands.)

Lorn. {To Harry.) Strangers are welcome to Texas.

Harry. Am pleased to meet you. {Exchanging bows with Winnie.) And you, Mrs. Lorn. (Winnie evidently notices his use of the terms Mrs.)

Lorn. {To Betsy.) So, so! Thomas Gall is your uncle! Then we shall be neighbors, yes, yes; onlv twenty-five miles apart. — Can show you out here both ranches {pointing toward Right Second Entrance).

Exit — Right Second — Lorn and Betsy.

(Winnie resumes her seat. Harry takes the seat left by Lorn.) Harry. Only twenty-five miles apart — are very near neighbors of

yours.

Winnie. And yet I have heard of neighbors one wished to have

further away.

Harry. I suppose that you like your life here? Winnie. As far as I know it, I do.

Harry. Not lived here long?

Winnie. No— in Boston.

Harry. In Boston?

Winnie. In Cambridge.

Harry. In Cambridge?

Winnie. In Cambridge.

Harry. Three times and out! You have it.

Winnie. Am dreadfully sorry. The experienced traveler now, in

writing home, I suppose, will be forced to draw on his fancy to

paint his graphic encounter with the wild, rude, horrible ranch

girl.

Harry. The means of his observation were limited — saw through

a veil very darkly.

Winnie. Afraid of the sun.

Harry. My father's ?

Winnie. Oh, yes;— so bright! You, too, know Cambridge,

perhaps.

Harry. When I was a student at Harvard, I used to know Boston ;

but Cambridge — used to cut Cambridge.

Winnie. You did? Very strange.

Harry. What, cutting it?

Winnie. No; but I think I have seen you before. Harry. I wonder if I have seen you. You have an advantage —

that veil — Winnie. I think it was on the first base. Harry. Oh, yes; you are right— first bass! You heard me, you

say.

Winnie. I saw you.

Harry. But I thought I was there to be heard. Winnie. And you were ! You yelled like a savage. Harry. Beg pardon?

Winnie. You made a great hit.

Harry. I should think so — from such a description! I suppose

you enjoy the yelling of savages, too, out here. Winnie. The Indians never play.

Harry. Of course, they never are playing, but fighting, when yelling

like me !

Winnie. You said you were on the baseball club. Harry. Oh, no!— first bass on the glee club. The only bassbawling of mine was on it. However, there was a Merriman, too, on the ball club; but he was much darker than I. If you lifted your veil, you might see it.

Winnie. Have no curiosity, thank you. I heard you, perhaps, at

Commencement.

Harry. Heard of me, perhaps, when the fellows first heard of my name on the list of those who were taking degrees. There is nothing a circus cheers more than a man who, in riding a horse, appears to be thrown, and is not.

Winnie. You managed then to hold on.

Harry. I did — at the tail of the class.

Winnie. The tail is the place — not so? — for a wag? Harry. Or those who get set on.

Winnie. Men never can set on or keep on a man that lives by his

wits.

Harry. Oh, that is a woman's right, — to live by her wits, not

work !

Winnie. Now, honestly, do you believe that the women work less

than the men ?

Harry. Why "honestly"?

Winnie. Why do you ask?

Harry. Because in a world of donkeys, all trying to hide their ears in a lion's hide that hides nothing, how can one be wholly honest yet wholly polite? You see dishonesty is to politeness what Latin is to a doctor, or pedantry is to a teacher, or lace to a last year's ball dress. We all see through it; and yet we all say nothing about it.

Winnie. And you really think we women work less than the men. I should like to set you at housekeeping.

Harry. Madam, there are women that I would give all I am worth to have set me at that.

Winnie. Your hands could not stand it.

Harry. Oh, yes; my hands could stand a good deal (he thrusts his hands toward her, as both are sitting; she takes them in hers and looks at them intently) ; but, perhaps, not your inspection ! Your veil interferes, not so? — Humph! what are you trying to find? — The marks of toil, or of soil?

Winnie. Of character. Surely you know your hand is your fortune ?

Harry. It is? — You say that to me as a man. But the face is the woman's fortune. Not fair I should give you mine; and you not give me yours ! (Moving his head as if to peek through her veil; Winnie looks at his hands.)

Enter — Right Upper — Betsy and Alice.

Betsy. (Advancing, and speaking to Alice.) Why, what in the

world are they doing?

Harry. (Looking up at Betsy.) I am giving my hand to her,

Betsy. And she is to get my fortune.

Betsy. Your fortune?

Harry. I said so. Perhaps she will tend to yours first. Sit down.

(Rising, and offering his seat to Betsy, who draws back.) Oh,