_Gaylie._ Silence, sir! Speak to me now, and I shall hate you. (ROWELL _returns_ L. _Enter_ C. HOSEA JENKS, _followed by_ HIRAM. MATTIE _enters_ L. HOSEA _comes down_. HIRAM _stops up stage, and tries to make up with_ MATTIE; _she snubs him_.) _Hosea._ I—I—really, really, I beg pardon, colonel, if you are having a _tety-tety_; but I thought you'd like your mail, and so I brought it. (_Comes down_ L. _of table, and hands letters to_ ROWELL, _who stands_ R. _of table; then goes back to_ L. C.) _Rowell._ Ah! thank you, Jenks. (_Aside._) Confound his kindness! I know you'll excuse me, Gaylie. Here's my mail. _Gaylie._ Certainly, colonel. (HIRAM _comes down_ R. _of table, where_ GAYLIE _is standing, and hands her a letter secretly_.) (_Aside._) And here's mine. (_Presses it to her lips._) _Rowell_ (_his back to_ GAYLIE). (_Aside._) Here's one for Gaylie, in the old familiar hand. (_Looks round to her: she is looking down; he turns to_ L., _and slips it into his pocket; as he does so, she bends forward, and watches him, then shakes her head_.) _Gaylie._ Nothing for me, Mr. Jenks? (_She looks at_ JENKS _keenly: he tries to look in her face, drops his eyes, and nervously plays with his hat_.) _Hosea._ Oh, no! Nothing for you, not a thing. Do you suppose I should have failed to bring them? (_She goes up stage; he comes down_ R.) (_Aside._) That's a lie, a wicked lie. I can't help it. I try; but it will pop out, anywhere, everywhere. Once I was a punster. "Alas, poor Jenks! where are your jests now, that were wont to set the table in a roar?" All lies now. _Gaylie_ (_goes up, takes_ HIRAM'S _hand_). (_Aside._) Thanks, faithful sentinel. (_Aloud._) Come, Mattie, we'll go and look at Crimp's preparations, and leave the colonel to his letters. (_Puts her arm about_ MATTIE'S _waist, and they go off_ C.) _Rowell_ (_who has opened a letter, and is reading it, seated at table_, L.). Confound it! another call for money, and no way to raise it. (JENKS _starts for door_; ROWELL _looks round_.) Yes; there's Jenks: he must help me out. Jenks! _Hosea_ (_turns trembling_). Ye-yes, colonel. _Rowell_ (_rising_). Jenks, I must have money at once. I have a pressing call, and my funds are completely exhausted. Come, you shall give me fifteen hundred dollars, and I'll transfer to you the Trueworth Farm. _Hosea_ (_aside_). That's cool. (_Aloud._) But—but you see, colonel, I—I—I don't want the Trueworth Farm. _Rowell._ Neither do I. But I do want money; so look round and raise it, and don't keep me waiting long (_rises, and comes close to him_), or Grainlow will have a new postmaster. (_Exit_ C. JENKS _falls into chair he has left_.)