BIJAH. Never you mind. Sufficient unto the day, is the gossip thereof. And O Polly, while that heart of mine is beating a regular nightly tattoo for you on one side, the other organ of my being, the stomach, in the most unromantic manner is clamoring for mid-day rations. (PINKERTON POTTS _and_ DOROTHY _heard outside laughing_.) POLLY. Poor thing, so active a poetical brain should not be allowed to starve. Come with me. (_Exeunt_, R., POLLY _and_ BIJAH.) (MAJOR PINKERTON POTTS _and_ DOROTHY _enter, both in riding costume, and laughing heartily at_ POTTS'S _appearance, who is brushing dirt from his clothes_.) DOR. Well done, Pinky, that last leap was too much for you. That's your punishment for insisting upon pouring into my tired ears, a whole battalion of pretty speeches. Pride must have a fall. If your shots in battle do not find a more responsive target, your record will not be an enviable one. POTTS. How can I help it? Such bright eyes and glowing cheeks cannot but provoke such thoughts to utterance. I say, Miss Dorothy, you do like a fellow, just a little, don't you? DOR. Like you? Indeed yes. You are one of the nicest men I know. There is a large corner of my heart quite devoted to you. POTTS. Well, to be liked is something. But, if you only knew, how much I thought of you by day, and dreamed of you by night. DOR. Ha, ha! to think of Pinky Potts assuming the sentimental rôle. Dear me. I never dreamed of such a thing. Why, you are too old a friend. What should I do, if I were to fall in love with you? It would spoil all the fun, and now, you are my devoted slave. POTTS. What's the matter with my being in love and playing the devoted too? DOR. Never. Now, Pinky, you are just the dearest fellow in the world, and I am awfully fond of you; you are no end jolly. So come (_offers hand, which_ POTTS _takes_), let's be friends forever, and keep sentiment out of the question. (_Seriously._) And you know, Pinky, I can never forget Roger Carruth. POTTS. No, Miss Dorothy, and I would not have you. Roger and I are too old friends. I would not mar his happiness or yours, for all the world. (_Kisses_ DOROTHY'S _hand_.) DOR. Well said, my noble major. Some day a fascinating little woman will cross your path who won't say “nay” to your devotion. I hope it will be some one that I shall know, Pinky, for I shall love her with my whole heart. When the war is over and Roger comes back—he will come back, won't he, Pinky? POTTS. Indeed he will. Never doubt his loyalty, and some day you will have your reward. Roger is under a heavy cloud, but penetrated by the warmth of your love it will in time disperse. Then, Miss Dorothy, you will say “good-by” to tears, and revel in the happiness and sunshine about you. DOR. Pinky, you were wrongly named. You are true blue every time. (_Goes to window._) Pinky, come here. Do you see that man walking with the Colonel and Mrs. Graham? That is Mr. Randolph Newcomb—and—I don't like him.