Clara. “Oh, dear” means very bad. Debts. (_With assumed bewilderment._) Awful! Allen. (_Smiling._) What sort of debts? Clara. Oh, all sorts--tradespeople, you know, and all that, and then I thought I could win a little by betting--(_Allen rises_)--and put it all right--and I’ve been and lost. Oh dear! Allen. (_Vexed, goes c._) I should ha’ thought there wur enough fools among us men trying to win money that way. Clara. I am naughty, I know--but papa leaves everything to me, and I get so frightened when I see the debts mounting up and nothing to meet them, and I’ve no one to advise me. (_Crosses l._) Allen. (_After a pause, rises, goes to Clara--kindly._) I didn’t mean to speak unkind, lass. I’m full of old-fashioned notions about women, I suppose. I like ’em to be women--not mere men in petticoats. How much does thee owe? Clara. Oh, heaps! (_Handing him pocket-book._) Look. (_Allen crosses to R. and sits at table._) And I haven’t any money. (_Rising and looking over his shoulder R., as he examines the book._) Do you think they’ll put me in prison? Allen. (_Turns--laughing._) Thee ought to be taken in charge by somebody, that’s certain. (_Allen rises, puts some notes from his pocket-book into hers, and hands it back to her._) I owe your father a little over one or two bets. I can take it off that and give him the rest, like. (_Crosses to l._) Clara. (_Takes book and lays it on the table--the notes drop out on to the table._) You are good, Allen, really. (_Puts book on table R.--half to herself._) I wish sometimes that you weren’t--that you were more like other men I have met. (_Turning away r._) Allen. Why, would thee like me better? Clara. No, but I should like myself better. Allen. What do thee mean, lass? Clara. Nothing. I’m not used to your sort of men. (_Goes to fireplace, then up R., throwing off her seriousness and turning towards him._) You are like the knight, Allen, out of some old legend that comes and slays the dragon and sets the frightened princess free from all her trouble. (_Laughing._) Allen. (_Goes to table r. Clara r.c. at top of table._) When art thee going to gie me the right to be thy knight always? Clara..(_Sits at table playfully._) Ah, the gallant knights are apt to turn into grim jailers--(_comes l. of r. table_)--when they get the princess into their own castles. Allen. Can’t thee believe me, Clara? Trust me, lass--I’m only a rough country chap to be asking a beautiful lady like thee to be my wife. But if I can’t gie thee anything very showy on the outside, it will make me the more eager alius to keep a loving heart for thee within. Clara. Oh, no. (_Sits in chair l. of table._) A lover on his knees is so much nicer than a lover on your arm. You are so nice, Allen, as you are, you can’t think. I really couldn’t bring myself to risk a change.