~Alice~ (_with a look in her eyes which shows that she is recalling a tender memory_). When I was in Shropshire last week---- What was your man's name? ~Jane~ (_with a warning glance at the audience_). You know how difficult it is to catch names when one is introduced. I am certain he never heard mine. (_As the plot depends partly upon this, she pauses for it to sink in._) But I enquired about him afterwards, and I find that he is a Mr.---- _Enter_ Mary, _the parlourmaid._ ~Mary~ (handing letter). A letter for you, Miss. ~Jane~ (_taking it_). Thank you, Mary. (_Exit_ Mary _to work up her next line._) A letter! I wonder who it is from! (_Reading the envelope._) "Miss Prendergast, Honeysuckle Lodge." (_She opens it with the air of one who has often received letters before, but feels that this one may play an important part in her life._) "Dear Miss Prendergast, I hope you will pardon the presumption of what I am about to write to you, but whether you pardon me or not, I ask you to listen to me. I know of no woman for whose talents I have a greater admiration or for whose qualities I have a more sincere affection than yourself. Since I have known you, you have been the lodestar of my existence, the fountain of my inspiration. I feel that, were your life joined to mine, the joint path upon which we trod would be the path to happiness, such as I have as yet hardly dared to dream of. In short, dear Miss Prendergast, I ask you to marry me, and I will come in person for my answer. Yours truly (_in a voice of intense surprise_) Jas. Bootle!" (_At the word "Bootle" a wave of warm colour rushes over Alice and dyes her from neck to brow. If she is not an actress of sufficient calibre to ensure this, she must do the best she can by starting abruptly and putting her hand to her throat._) ~Alice~ (_aside, in a choking voice_). Mr. Bootle! In love with Jane! ~Jane.~ My dear! The man who took me down to dinner! Well! ~Alice~ (_picking up her work again and trying to be calm_). What will you say? ~Jane~ (_rather pleased with herself_). Well, really--I--this is--Mr. Bootle! Fancy! ~Alice~ (_starting up_). Was that a ring? (_She frowns at the prompter and a bell is heard to ring._) It is Mr. Bootle! I know his ring, I mean I know---- Dear, I think I will go and lie down. I have a headache. (_She looks miserably at the audience, closes her eyes, and goes off with her handkerchief to her mouth, taking care not to fall over the furniture._) _Enter_ Mary, _followed by James Bootle._ ~Mary.~ Mr. Bootle. (_Exit finally._) ~Jane.~ Good morning, Mr. Bootle.