_Katrina_.
Jean, have you heard
Of Mary lately?--I vow she's in love.

_Jean_.
Never! with whom?

_Katrina_.
The thing's a wonder, Jean.
She'll speak to no one now, and every day,
Morning and evening, she's at the gate
Gazing like a fey creature on that head
She was so stricken to behold--you mind it?--
I tell you she's in love with it.

_Jean_.
O don't be silly.
How can you fall in love with a dead man?
And what good could he do you, if you did?
One loves for kisses and for hugs and the rest;
A spunky fellow,--that's the thing to love.
But a dead man,--pah, what a foolery!

_Katrina_.
O yes, to you; for Love's a game for you.
'Twill turn out dangerous maybe, but still,--a game.

_Jean_.
Yes, the best kind of game a girl can play,
And all the better for the risk, Katrina.