we were sold. I don't know who got the best of it, after all. But, Kittie, I am honestly dreadfully sorry we frightened you so. You poor little thing! You look all worn out and tired. (He takes her hand.)
Kit. (drooping her head). It was a very mean trick.
Fred. Yes, it was, Kittie. But now you will be good as you promised, and forgive me, won't you?
Kit. I don't see how you could be so cruel. (Snatches away her hand.) Gladys was dreadfully frightened. You and Charlie were mean to her. But don't flatter yourself that I was frightened—no indeed! But I am angry. (Rises indignantly and turns away.) I can never forgive you for this, Mr. Olney.
Fred. Ah, but you said you would. You cannot be truly angry. It was only a joke, and hasn't really hurt any one after all.
Kit. It has hurt my feelings. (He tries to take her hand; she retreats across the room behind table.) Let me go! I must find Charlie and tell him what I think of you two Harvard gentlemen.
Fred. Ah, Kittie, don't be angry with me. It is so long since I have seen you, and now to have our very first meeting spoiled by such a silly cause as this.
Kit. Silly! I should say so! Think of those letters you wrote Mabel. (Fred groans, and gestures in despair behind her.)
Fred. Oh, hang it, Kittie! I was thinking only of you when I wrote those. You would never write to me when I asked you. (Reproachfully.)
Kit. I was only a little girl then. It wouldn't have been proper.
Fred. But you wrote as Mabel. Ah, Kittie, I see in your eyes that you are not really angry.
Kit. The idea!
Fred. The eye-dear; just what I think, but I should never dare to say it. (Advances to her around the table; she retreats, keeping always on the side away from him. Business.)
Kit. But you did say it. Mr. Olney, this is growing embarrassing. You mustn't forget that I am no longer Mabel, though I suppose I shall have only myself to blame if you do occasionally forget—after those dreadful letters. (Crosses room, and sits on divan.)
Fred. Those charming letters. (Follows her, standing close beside her.) But I shall never confound Mabel with you. (Aside.) Confound her! (Aloud.) And now, Kittie, since you have forgiven me—you have, you know.
Kit. Have I?
Fred. Oh, yes. But will you not prove it?
Kit. Why, have I not already proved it by not running away from you long ago? You deserve to be punished even more severely. Tell me, is not my hair quite white? The anxiety of this night has been enough to blanch it. (Enter Miss Griffin, C., unperceived, behind screen.)
