PETE. Lor, Polly. Dis yer is de soger what didn't shoot when dis yer nigger crossed de line. (_Salutes_ KIL.) I's heaps glad to see you, sah. Does yer disremember me? KIL. Faith, an' it's Pete, the colonel's guard. (_Shaking hands with him._) What a foine by yees grown to. Shure it's a betther fitting coat yees have on, anyway. PETE. Yas, indeed. I's Buttons, now, I is. Don't yer tink dis yer coat obercomes me? KIL. Faith, it's a foine picture yees look in it. POLLY. I remember; you are the soldier that was so kind to Pete. KIL. Oh, yees make me blush,—the sight of those bright eyes, and the swate words yees be afther saying. Shure, a foiner jig I never saw in the ould country. Will yees be afther telling the colonel I am here? POLLY. Yes, Pete will do that. Ask if the messenger shall be sent to his room. PETE. All right, Polly. Who is de message from, sah? KIL. Mr. Randolph Newcomb, if yees plaze. (_Exit_ PETE, L.) POLLY. Should think that Mr. Newcomb had done mischief enough. You can't be very proud of your master. KIL. Faith, and it's little I care about him. I applied for the situation to plaze Mr. Roger. Shure, it's a policeman I am in foine livery. POLLY. Oh, I see, something more mysterious. (_Enter_ PETE.) PETE. Massa Colonel will receib de message, sah. Yer is to follow me. KIL. An' phat if that foine man, the divil, be afther kaping me company? PETE. Den I goes first, massa, ebery time. I wouldn't for de world disturb de confections dat exist between you two. KIL. Faith, an' if yees have a foiner coat, you're a _black guard_ shtill. (_Exeunt_ KIL. _and_ PETE; _the latter making fun of_ KIL.) POLLY. Pete's bright enough for him. I've taken quite a shine to my black diamond. (BIJAH _appears in door_, C.) How devoted he is to the colonel! Heigho! wish some one was devoted to me. Nonsense; I don't care. I am so happy, now that horrid war is over. I am ready to embrace anybody and everybody. (_Extends arms_; BIJAH _steps quickly, and_ POLLY _embraces him_.) BIJAH. And I am just the man to appreciate it, Polly. POLLY. Bijah Bright! Bless my soul, how you frighten me! Back from the war, are you? BIJAH. Yes, Polly. When I left you, patriotism filled my breast. I carried the flag, torn and tattered as it was, and, contrary to your expectations, was not suspended in mid-air. I lived for glory by day, and at night dreamed sweet dreams. They were all of you, Polly. POLLY. Dreaming of me! Stuff and nonsense. Do you take me for a brainless Down-Easter, that you come with your sweet words and “palaverin” smiles. (_Dramatically._) Away! “I'll have none of you.” BIJAH (_sinks into chair_). Won't you ever forgive me, Polly, for that day in camp? POLLY. Never! Think of me, dream of me, Whatever you will, That hour, that moment, It rankles me still. Besides, what should I have to say to you? A man who carries in his pocket other girls' pictures, and spends all his time kissing them.