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MISS SPAULDING, in astonishment: “What?”

MISS REED: “Did I speak? I didn’t know it. I” –

MISS SPAULDING, desisting from practice: “What is that strange, hollow, rumbling, mumbling kind of noise?”

MISS REED, softly closing the register with her foot: “I don’t hear any strange, hollow, rumbling, mumbling kind of noise. Do you hear it NOW?”

MISS SPAULDING: “No. It was the Brighton whistle, probably.”

MISS REED: “Oh, very likely.” As Miss Spaulding turns again to her practice Miss Reed re-opens the register and listens again. A little interval of silence ensues, while Ransom lights a cigarette.

GRINNIDGE: “So you sought opportunities of rescuing her from other cows?”

RANSOM, returning: “That wasn’t necessary. The young lady was so impressed by my behavior, that she asked if I would give her some lessons in the use of oil.”

GRINNIDGE: “She thought if she knew how to paint pictures like yours she wouldn’t need any one to drive the cows away.”

RANSOM: “Don’t be farcical, Grinnidge. That sort of thing will do with some victim on the witness-stand who can’t help himself. Of course I said I would, and we were off half the time together, painting the loveliest and loneliest bits around Ponkwasset. It all went on very well, till one day I felt bound in conscience to tell her that I didn’t think she would ever learn to paint, and that–if she was serious about it she’d better drop it at once, for she was wasting her time.”

GRINNIDGE, getting up to fill his pipe: “That was a pleasant thing to do.”

RANSOM: “I told her that if it amused her, to keep on; I would be only too glad to give her all–the hints I could, but that I oughtn’t to encourage her. She seemed a good deal hurt. I fancied at the time that she thought I was tired of having her with me so much.”

MISS REED: “Oh, DID you, indeed!” To Miss Spaulding, who bends an astonished glance upon her from the piano: “The man in this book is the most CONCEITED creature, Nettie. Play chords–something very subdued–ah!”

MISS SPAULDING: “What are you talking about, Ethel?”

RANSOM: “That was at night; but the next day she came up smiling, and said that if I didn’t mind she would keep on–for amusement; she wasn’t a bit discouraged.”

MISS REED: “Oh!–Go on, Nettie; don’t let my outbursts interrupt you.”

RANSOM: “I used to fancy sometimes that she was a little sweet on me.”

MISS REED: “You wretch!–Oh, scales, Nettie! Play scales!”

MISS SPAULDING: “Ethel Reed, are you crazy?”

RANSOM,

MISS REED: “Oh, you silly, silly thing!–Really this book makes me sick, Nettie.”

RANSOM: “Well, the long and the short of it was, I was hit–HARD, and I lost all courage. You know how I am, Grinnidge.”

MISS REED, softly: “Oh, poor fellow!”

RANSOM: “So I let the time go by, and at the end I hadn’t said anything.”

MISS REED: “No, sir! You HADN’T!”

[MISS SPAULDING gradually ceases to play, and fixes her attention wholly upon Miss Reed, who bends forward over the register with an intensely excited face.]

RANSOM: “Then something happened that made me glad, for twenty-four hours at least, that I hadn’t spoken. She sent me the money for twenty-five lessons. Imagine how I felt, Grinnidge! What could I suppose but that she had been quietly biding her time, and storing up her resentment for my having told her she couldn’t learn to paint, till she could pay me back with interest in one supreme insult?”