HILDA. Don't make fun of them, Jamie. Minnie's _awfully_ bright. Why she's made up her mind to come back next year and take her Master's degree. Think of that! JAMIE. Is that so? I wonder if Herbert's coming too. HILDA. I don't know. I've never heard him say. I don't believe Minnie knows either. He's a splendid student, too. [_Anxiously._] I don't see why in the world they don't come. Jamie, maybe they've had an accident! JAMIE. Oh, no, they haven't. That old giraffe of theirs couldn't run away. They're walking up from the livery now, like as not, just as we did. They'll be here in a minute. Maybe we came in faster than we thought. It's a good ten miles, and with their horse it would take 'em half again as long as it did us. HILDA. Maybe. JAMIE [_irrelevantly_]. Jove! What a magnificent night this is! HILDA. Isn't it? And see how round the moon is--it's perfectly lovely. JAMIE. Dearest! HILDA. What? JAMIE. I love you. HILDA [_pressing his arm_]. Sweetheart! JAMIE. I do. [HILDA _murmurs incoherently._] Tired of scurrying, the silent moon shines down upon these two of all the world, regardless. They lapse into silence--he holding one of her hands--and gaze at the pale orb of night floating up the sky. A couple turn the corner, south of the house. The young man is tall and angular. He wears huge spectacles. His face is thin and wan, very like that of the girl beside him. Indeed, they have many physical characteristics in common. She, too, wears spectacles. Her mouth is straight, her complexion cloudy, but her eyes give evidence of an active brain behind them. He carries a luncheon basket awkwardly. At the corner they stop and he turns away as she lifts her dark cloth overskirt, and searches for her pocket. The quill, riding her curled-brimmed straw-hat at an angle of danger, sways impatiently. HERBERT [_calmly_]. Something appears to annoy you--have you---- MINNIE [_impetuously_]. I've lost my key! Now isn't that aggravating! To think anything so perfectly absurd should---- HERBERT. The others haven't yet arrived apparently. Possibly we might---- MINNIE [_with surprise_]. Oh, I wouldn't have you wait for the world! It must be one o'clock! [_She glances up at a window of the second floor._] No, evidently, they haven't come. There's no light. Of course Hilda would wait. Well, we'll ring and arouse the landlady; that's all. HERBERT [_solicitously_]. _Please_ don't think it would annoy me to wait for your room-mate and her friend--here on the porch. It wouldn't in the least, I assure you. Besides, it always puts one out to be awakened late at night, and I dare say your landlady isn't a young person. MINNIE [_smiling_]. It's _very_ good of you. She _isn't_ young; she's quite old. Quite as old, I think, as my mother. Still I _could_ ring, you know.