Jim. Who _is_ dictating? How you do fly off! You know, Jennie, I think all the world of you! Jen. Yes, I dare say! Men always say so _before_ they get married. I suppose that is what our master said to our mistress once, and now see the way he orders her about! And you would like to do the same by me, wouldn't you? But I am altogether too smart for that, sir! Jim. But, good gracious, Jennie, how you do fly off! Never thought of such a thing in my life! Jen. Oh, pshaw! Men are all alike! Now I will bet a pound of candy that you think you know more than I do, just because you are a man! Jim. Well--I--of course about some things. Jen. Some things! just tell me one. Jim. Well--I--you see it would take me some time to think. Jen. Yes, I guess it would! Well, I have my eyes open, and I haven't lived in this house going on a year for nothing, and seen the airs master and Mr. Eugene give themselves! Over Miss Kate, too, who knows more than both of them put together. Jim (gesticulating). But, Jennie, a woman isn't _supposed_ to know as much as a man. It isn't natural, you see! But a man likes them all the better for it, and he likes to be looked up to, you know. Jen. (drawing herself up). You don't say so! How sorry I am I can't make you happy in that way. But the fact is, I'd rather have a man who likes me for what I know and not for what I _don't_ know! So (courtesying) I'll leave you to find a woman with less brains than you have--_if you can_. (Exit C.) Jim (following). Jennie! here, Jennie! She has gone and she is mad! How she does fly off! And oh, how I do love her! Good gracious, how I do love her! (Comes down C.) Now why on earth should she get mad about a little thing like that! Does she want me to say every man is a natural-born fool? Hang me if I don't believe they are, where a woman is concerned! Here for the last six months I've been a perfect slave to her. And all I get for it is to be told I belong to a tyrannical sex! But I won't stand it. No, I won't! (Going. Stops at door C.) I am afraid I can't help it, though. Oh, what an awful thing it is to be in love! And between me and the furniture, I do believe if a woman _is_ the weaker sex, she always gets the best of a man somehow. (Exit, L. 2 E.) (Enter Mrs. Grovenor and Alice, C.) Mrs. G. (as she enters). Well, no, my dear, Dr. Endicott is not a particularly good match. But Mr. Doughlass has an immense fortune, you know. Alice (sits R. on sofa). Yes, but Mr. Doughlass is _such_ a bore, ma. Mrs. G. (sitting, L.). Ah, well, a bore is better than a tyrant, child. Alice. But there must be some men who are neither. Mrs. G. That kind are very hard to find, and, by some strange chance, are usually poor in purse when found. Witness Dr. Endicott, for instance. Alice. It would never do to marry a poor man.