POTTS. Let a woman alone for keeping a secret. You will undeceive him in five minutes. I know enough of the fair sex for that.
DOR. If you were not Roger's best friend, I should say something that you would not like.
POTTS. I fly to do your bidding. Don't empty your vial of pent-up wrath over my defenceless shoulders. I should not dare to look a pretty girl in the face for a week.
DOR. What a vacation the pretty girls would have! Come, do hurry, or the colonel will return and spoil everything.
POTTS. _Au revoir!_ (_Salutes and exit past sentinel, who salutes._)
DOR. My heart is fluttering like an imprisoned butterfly. Hark! Polly, some one else is coming.
POLLY (_looking_). Pity sakes alive! It's Bijah Bright; seat yourself on this log and don't speak. (DOR. _covers face; seats herself on log_; POLLY _draws hood together_.)
BIJAH. Wal, I agree with the major. This is getting monotonous; my blood boils for excitement; even the sight of a pretty face wouldn't go bad. That reminds me. (_Takes picture out of pocket._) If I can't do that, there is no law to prevent me from looking at a pretty girl's picture; and “by gorry,” she is worth looking at. (_Kisses picture._)
POLLY. Well, I never! Now, I should just like to know—_another_ girl, has he? I'll pay him well for that; deceiving me with his soft speeches.
BIJAH (_turns_). Bless my soul! if here isn't a sweet lass now. What! ho! my pretty maid; where are you going?
POLLY (_disguises voice; courtesying_). If you please, sir, I have cakes to sell. (_Uncovers basket._)
BIJAH. Here's luck. Just what I've been looking for. I'll take half a dozen. (_Gives coin; bites cake._) My! what cakes! “Is this heaven, Uncle Tom?” (_Bites again._) These bring to me visions of Polly's kitchen and her pies.
Where'er I roam, where'er I be, No cakes can equal Polly P's.
This is richness. (_To_ POLLY.) Why do you hide your face? Let me look at you.
BIJAH. You can't. Wal, I can. (_Tries to raise her head._) Come now, give me a kiss. (POLLY _suddenly raises head, throws back hood and discloses herself to_ BIJAH'S _astonished gaze_.)
POLLY (_indignantly_). Yes, Polly—Polly Primrose. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? You're a nice kind of a man, you are, pretending to be fond of me.