timid knock.

MRS. BREWSTER: Come in.

(Enter CAPTAIN MIKES STANDISH, whiskered and forty. In a later
generation, with that imposing mustache and his hatred of
Indians, Miles would undoubtedly have been a bank president. At
present he seems somewhat ill at ease, and obviously relieved to
find only PRISCILLA'S aunt at home.)

MRS. BREWSTER: Good evening, Captain Standish.

MILES: Good evening, Mrs. Brewster. It's--it's cool for June,
isn't it?

MRS. BREWSTER: Yes. I suppose we'll pay, for it with a hot
July, though.

MILES (nervously): Yes, but it--it is cool for June, isn't it?

MRS. BREWSTER: So you said, Captain.

MILES: Yes. So I said, didn't I? (Silence.)

MILES: Mistress Priscilla isn't home, then?

MRS. BREWSTER: Why, I don't think so, Captain But I never can
be sure where Priscilla is.

MILES (eagerly): She's a--a fine girl, isn't she? A fine girl.