ACT ONE SCENE ONE SCENE--A section of country highway. The road runs diagonally from the left, forward, to the right, rear, and can be seen in the distance winding toward the horizon like a pale ribbon between the low, rolling hills with their freshly plowed fields clearly divided from each other, checkerboard fashion, by the lines of stone walls and rough snake fences.1 The forward triangle cut off by the road is a section of a field from the dark earth of which myriad bright-green blades of fall-sown rye are sprouting. A straggling line of piled rocks, too low to be called a wall, separates this field from the road.2 To the rear of the road is a ditch with a sloping, grassy bank on the far side. From the center of this an old, gnarled apple tree, just budding into leaf, strains its twisted branches heavenwards, black against the pallor of distance. A snake-fence sidles from left to right along the top of the bank, passing beneath the apple tree.3 The hushed twilight of a day in May is just beginning. The horizon hills are still rimmed by a faint line of flame, and the sky above them glows with the crimson flush of the sunset. This fades gradually as the action of the scene progresses.4 At the rise of the curtain, ROBERT MAYO is discovered sitting on the fence. He is a tall, slender young man of twenty-three. There is a touch of the poet about him expressed in his high forehead and wide, dark eyes. His features are delicate and refined, leaning to weakness in the mouth and chin. He is dressed in grey corduroy trousers pushed into high laced boots, and a blue flannel shirt with a bright colored tie. He is reading a book by the fading sunset light. He shuts this, keeping a finger in to mark the place, and turns his head toward the horizon, gazing out over the fields and hills. His lips move as if he were reciting something to himself.5 His brother ANDREW comes along the road from the right, returning from his work in the fields. He is twenty-seven years old, an opposite type to ROBERT--husky, sun-bronzed, handsome in a large-featured, manly fashion--a son of the soil, intelligent in a shrewd way, but with nothing of the intellectual about him. He wears overalls, leather boots, a grey flannel shirt open at the neck, and a soft, mud-stained hat pushed back on his head. He stops to talk to ROBERT, leaning on the hoe he carries.6 ANDREW--[Seeing ROBERT has not noticed his presence--in a loud shout.] Hey there! [ROBERT turns with a start. Seeing who it is, he smiles.] Gosh, you do take the prize for day-dreaming! And I see you've toted one of the old books along with you. Want to bust your eyesight reading in this light?7 ROBERT--[Glancing at the book in his hand with a rather shamefaced air.] I wasn't reading--just then, Andy.8 ANDREW--No, but you have been. Shucks, you never will get any sense, Rob. [He crosses the ditch and sits on the fence near his brother.] What is it this time--poetry, I'll bet. [He reaches for the book.] Let me see.9 ROBERT--[Handing it to him rather reluctantly.] Yes, it's poetry. Look out you don't get it full of dirt.10 ANDREW--[Glancing at his hands.] That isn't dirt--it's good clean earth; but I'll be careful of the old thing. I just wanted to take a peep at it. [He turns over the pages.]11 ROBERT--[Slyly.] Better look out for your eyesight, Andy.12 ANDREW--Huh! If reading this stuff was the only way to get blind, I'd see forever. [His eyes read something and he gives an exclamation of disgust.] Hump! [With a provoking grin at his brother he reads aloud in a doleful, sing-song voice.] "I have loved wind and light and the bright sea. But holy and most sacred night, not as I love and have loved thee." [He hands the book back.] Here! Take it and bury it. Give me a good magazine any time.13 ROBERT--[With a trace of irritation.] The Farm Journal?14 ANDREW--Sure; anything sensible. I suppose it's that year in college gave you a liking for that kind of stuff. I'm darn glad I stopped with High School, or maybe I'd been crazy too. [He grins and slaps ROBERT on the back affectionately.] Imagine me reading poetry and plowing at the same time. The team'd run away, I'll bet.15 ROBERT--[Laughing.] Or picture me plowing. That'd be worse.16 ANDREW--[Seriously.] Pa was right never to sick you onto the farm. You surely were never cut out for a farmer, that's a fact,--even if you'd never been took sick. [With concern.] Say, how'd you feel now, anyway? I've lost track of you. Seems as if I never did get a chance to have a talk alone with you these days, 'count of the work. But you're looking fine as silk.17 ROBERT--Why, I feel great--never better.18 ANDREW--That's bully. You've surely earned it. You certainly had enough sickness in the old days to last you the rest of your life.19 ROBERT--A healthy animal like you, you brute, can hardly understand what I went through--althrough you saw it. You remember--sick one day, and well the next--always weak--never able to last through a whole term at school 'til I was years behind everyone my age--not able to get in any games--it was hell! These last few years of comparative health have been heaven to me.20 ANDREW--I know; they must have been. [After a pause.] You should have gone back to college last fall, like I know you wanted to. You're fitted for that sort of thing--just as I ain't.21 ROBERT--You know why I didn't go back, Andy. Pa didn't like the idea, even if he didn't say so; and I know he wanted the money to use improving the farm. And besides, I had pretty much all I cared for in that one year. I'm not keen on being a student, just because you see me reading books all the time. What I want to do now is keep on moving so that I won't take root in any one place.22 ANDREW--Well, the trip you're leaving on tomorrow will keep you moving all right. [At this mention of the trip they both fall silent. There is a pause. Finally ANDREW goes on, awkwardly attempting to speak casually.] Uncle says you'll be gone three years.23 ROBERT--About that, he figures.24 ANDREW--[Moodily.] That's a long time.25 ROBERT--Not so long when you come to consider it. You know the Sunda sails around the Horn for Yokohama first, and that's a long voyage on a sailing ship; and if we go to any of the other places Uncle Dick mentions--India, or Australia, or South Africa, or South America--they'll be long voyages, too.26 ANDREW--You can have all those foreign parts for all of me. A trip to the port once in a while, or maybe down to New York a couple of times a year--that's all the travel I'm hankering after. [He looks down the road to the right.] Here comes Pa. [The noise of a team of horses coming slowly down the road is heard, and a man's voice urging them on. A moment later JAMES MAYO enters, driving the two weary horses which have been unhitched from the plow. He is his son ANDREW over again in body and face--an ANDREW sixty-five years old, with a short, square, white beard. He is dressed much the same as ANDREW.]27 MAYO--[Checking his horses when he sees his sons.] Whoa there! Hello boys! What are you two doin' there roostin' on the fence like a pair of hens?28 ROBERT--[Laughing.] Oh, just talking things over, Pa.29 ANDREW--[With a sly wink.] Rob's trying to get me into reading poetry. He thinks my education's been neglected.30 MAYO--[Chuckling.] That's good! You kin go out and sing it to the stock at nights to put 'em to sleep. What's that he's got there--'nother book? Good Lord, I thought you'd read every book there was in the world, Robert; and here you go and finds 'nother one!31 ROBERT--[With a smile.] There's still a few left, Pa.32 ANDREW--He's learning a new poem about the "bright sea" so he'll be all prepared to recite when he gets on the boat tomorrow.33 MAYO--[A bit rebukingly.] He'll have plenty of time to be thinkin' 'bout the water in the next years. No need to bother 'bout it yet.34 ROBERT--[Gently.] I wasn't. That's just Andy's fooling.35 MAYO--[Changing the subject abruptly; turns to ANDREW.] How are things lookin' up to the hill lot, Andy?36 ANDREW--[Enthusiastically.] Fine as silk for this early in the year. Those oats seem to be coming along great.37 MAYO--I'm most done plowin' up the old medder--figger I ought to have it all up by tomorrow noon; then you kin start in with the harrowin'.38 ANDREW--Sure. I expect I'll be through up above by then. There ain't but a little left to do.39 MAYO--[To the restive team.] Whoa there! You'll get your supper soon enough, you hungry critters. [Turning again to ANDREW.] It looks like a good year for us, son, with fair luck on the weather--even if it's hard tucker gettin' things started.40 ANDREW--[With a grin of satisfaction.] I can stand my share of the hard work, I guess--and then some.41 MAYO--That's the way to talk, son. Work never done a man harm yet--leastways, not work done out in the open. [ROBERT has been trying to pretend an interest in their conversation, but he can't help showing that it bores him. ANDREW notices this.]42 ANDREW--But farming ain't poetry, is it, Rob? [ROBERT smiles but remains silent.]43 MAYO--[Seriously.] There's more satisfaction in the earth than ever was in any book; and Robert'll find it out sooner or later. [A twinkle comes into his eyes.] When he's grown up and got some sense.44 ROBERT--[Whimsically.] I'm never going to grow up--if I can help it.45 MAYO--Time'll tell. Well, I'll be movin' along home. Don't you two stay gossipin' too long. [He winks at ROBERT.] 'Specially you, Andy. Ruth and her Maw is comin' to supper, and you'd best be hurryin' to wash up and put on your best Sunday-go-to-mettin' clothes. [He laughs. ROBERT'S face contracts as if he were wincing at some pain, but he forces a smile. ANDREW grows confused and casts a quick side glance at his brother.]46 ANDREW--I'll be along in a minute, Pa.47 MAYO--And you, Robert, don't you stay moonin' at the sky longer'n is needful. You'll get lots o' time for that the next three years you're out on the sea. Remember this is your last night to home, and you've got to make an early start tomorrow, [He hesitates, then finishes earnestly] 'n' your Ma'll be wantin' to see all she kin o' you the little time left.48 ROBERT--I'm not forgetting, Pa. I'll be home right away.49 MAYO--That's right. I'll tell your Maw you're acomin'. [He chucks to the horses.] Giddap, old bones! Don't you want no supper tonight? [The horses walk off, and he follows them. There is a pause. ANDREW and ROBERT sit silently, without looking at each other.]50 ANDREW--[After a while.] Ma's going to miss you a lot, Rob.51 ROBERT--Yes--and I'll miss her.52 ANDREW--And Pa ain't feeling none too happy to have you go--though he's been trying not to show it.53 ROBERT--I can see how he feels.54 ANDREW--And you can bet that I'm not giving any cheers about it. [He puts one hand on the fence near ROBERT.]55 ROBERT--[Putting one hand on top of ANDREW'S with a gesture almost of shyness.] I know that too, Andy.56 ANDREW--I'll miss you as much as anybody, I guess. I know how lonesome the old place was winter before last when you was away to college--and even then you used to come home once in a while; but this time---- [He stops suddenly.]57 ROBERT--Let's not think about it--'til afterward. We'll only spoil this last night if we do.58 ANDREW--That's good advice. [But after a pause, he returns to the subject again.] You see, you and I ain't like most brothers--always fighting and separated a lot of the time, while we've always been together--just the two of us. It's different with us. That's why it hits so hard, I guess.59 ROBERT--[With feeling.] It's just as hard for me, Andy--believe that! I hate to leave you and the old folks--but--I feel I've got to. There's something calling me---- [He points to the horizon] calling to me from over there, beyond---- and I feel as if---- no matter what happens---- Oh, I can't just explain it to you, Andy.60 ANDREW--No need to, Rob. [Angry at himself.] You needn't try to explain. It's all just as it ought to be. Hell! You want to go. You feel you ought to, and you got to!---- that's all there is to it; and I wouldn't have you miss this chance for the world.61 ROBERT--It's fine of you to feel that way, Andy.62 ANDREW--Huh! I'd be a nice son-of-a-gun if I didn't, wouldn't I? When I know how you need this sea trip to make a new man of you--in the body, I mean--and give you your full health back.63 ROBERT--[A trifle impatiently.] All of you seem to keep harping on my health. You were so used to seeing me lying around the house in the old days that you never will get over the notion that I'm a chronic invalid, and have to be looked after like a baby all the time, or wheeled round in a chair like Mrs. Atkins. You don't realize how I've bucked up in the past few years. Why, I bet right now I'm just as healthy as you are--I mean just as sound in wind and limb; and if I was staying on at the farm, I'd prove it to you. You're suffering from a fixed idea about my delicateness--and so are Pa and Ma. Every time I've offered to help, Pa has stared at me as if he thought I was contemplating suicide.64 ANDREW--[Conciliatingly.] Nobody claimed the undertaker was taking your measurements. All I was saying was the sea trip would be bound to do anybody good.65 ROBERT--If I had no other excuse for going on Uncle Dick's ship but just my health, I'd stay right here and start in plowing.66 ANDREW--Can't be done. No use in your talking that way, Rob. Farming ain't your nature. There's all the difference shown in just the way us two feel about the farm. I like it, all of it, and you--well, you like the home part of it, I expect; but as a place to work and grow things, you hate it. Ain't that right?67 ROBERT--Yes, I suppose it is. I've tried to take an interest but--well, you're the Mayo branch of the family, and I take after Ma and Uncle Dick. It's natural enough when you come to think of it. The Mayos have been farmers from way back, while the Scotts have been mostly sea-faring folks, with a school teacher thrown in now and then on the woman's side--just as Ma was before her marriage.68 ANDREW--You do favor Ma. I remember she used always to have her nose in a book when I was a kid; but she seems to have given it up of late years.69 ROBERT--[With a trace of bitterness.] The farm has claimed her in spite of herself. That's what I'm afraid it might do to me in time; and that's why I feel I ought to get away. [Fearing he has hurt ANDREW'S feelings.] You musn't misunderstand me, Andy. For you it's a different thing. You're a Mayo through and through. You're wedded to the soil. You're as much a product of it as an ear of corn is, or a tree. Father is the same. This farm is his life-work, and he's happy in knowing that another Mayo, inspired by the same love, will take up the work where he leaves off. I can understand your attitude, and Pa's; and I think it's wonderful and sincere. But I--well, I'm not made that way.70 ANDREW--No, you ain't; but when it comes to understanding, I guess I realize that you've got your own angle of looking at things.71 ROBERT--[Musingly.] I wonder if you do, really.72 ANDREW--[Confidently.] Sure I do. You've seen a bit of the world, enough to make the farm seem small, and you've got the itch to see it all.73 ROBERT--It's more than that, Andy.74 ANDREW--Oh, of course. I know you're going to learn navigation, and all about a ship, so's you can be an officer. That's natural, too. There's fair pay in it, I expect, when you consider that you've always got a home and grub thrown in; and if you're set on travelling, you can go anywhere you're a mind to, without paying fare.75 ROBERT--[With a smile that is half-sad.] It's more than that, Andy.76 ANDREW--Sure it is. There's always a chance of a good thing coming your way in some of those foreign ports or other. I've heard there are great opportunities for a young fellow with his eyes open in some of those new countries that are just being opened up. And with your education you ought to pick up the language quick. [Jovially.] I'll bet that's what you've been turning over in your mind under all your quietness! [He slaps his brother on the back with a laugh.] Well, if you get to be a millionaire all of a sudden, call 'round once in a while and I'll pass the plate to you. We could use a lot of money right here on the farm without hurting it any.77 ROBERT--[Forced to laugh.] I've never considered that practical side of it for a minute, Andy. [As ANDREW looks incredulous.] That's the truth.78 ANDREW--Well, you ought to.79 ROBERT--No, I oughtn't. You're trying to wish an eye-for-business on me I don't possess. [Pointing to the horizon--dreamily.] Supposing I was to tell you that it's just Beauty that's calling me, the beauty of the far off and unknown, the mystery and spell of the East, which lures me in the books I've read, the need of the freedom of great wide spaces, the joy of wandering on and on--in quest of the secret which is hidden just over there, beyond the horizon? Suppose I told you that was the one and only reason for my going?80 ANDREW--I should say you were nutty.81 ROBERT--Then I must be--because it's so.82 ANDREW--I don't believe it. You've got that idea out of your poetry books. A good dose of sea-sickness will get that out of your system.83 ROBERT--[Frowning.] Don't, Andy. I'm serious.84 ANDREW--Then you might as well stay right here, because we've got all you're looking for right on this farm. There's wide space enough, Lord knows; and you can have all the sea you want by walking a mile down to the beach; and there's plenty of horizon to look at, and beauty enough for anyone, except in the winter. [He grins.] As for the mystery and spell, and other things you mentioned, I haven't met 'em yet, but they're probably lying around somewheres. I'll have you understand this is a first class farm with all the fixings. [He laughs.]85 ROBERT--[Joining in the laughter in spite of himself.] It's no use talking to you, you chump!86 ANDREW--Maybe; but you'll see I'm right before you've gone far. You're not as big a nut as you'd like to make out. You'd better not say anything to Uncle Dick about spells and things when you're on the ship. He'll likely chuck you overboard for a Jonah. [He jumps down from fence.] I'd better run along. I've got to wash up some as long as Ruth's Ma is coming over for supper.87 ROBERT--[Pointedly--almost bitterly.] And Ruth.88 ANDREW--[Confused--looking everywhere except at ROBERT--trying to appear unconcerned.] Yes, Pa did say she was staying too. Well, I better hustle, I guess, and---- [He steps over the ditch to the road while he is talking.]89 ROBERT--[Who appears to be fighting some strong inward emotion--impulsively.] Wait a minute, Andy! [He jumps down from the fence.] There is something I want to---- [He stops abruptly, biting his lips, his face coloring.]90 ANDREW--[Facing him; half-defiantly.] Yes?91 ROBERT--[Confusedly.] No---- never mind---- it doesn't matter, it was nothing.92 ANDREW--[After a pause, during which he stares fixedly at ROBERT'S averted face.] Maybe I can guess---- what you were going to say---- but I guess you're right not to talk about it. [He pulls ROBERT'S hand from his side and grips it tensely; the two brothers stand looking into each other's eyes for a minute.] We can't help those things, Rob. [He turns away, suddenly releasing ROBERT'S hand.] You'll be coming along shortly, won't you?93 ROBERT--[Dully.] Yes.94 ANDREW--See you later, then. [He walks off down the road to the left. ROBERT stares after him for a moment; then climbs to the fence rail again, and looks out over the hills, an expression of deep grief on his face. After a moment or so, RUTH enters hurriedly from the left. She is a healthy, blonde, out-of-door girl of twenty, with a graceful, slender figure. Her face, though inclined to roundness, is undeniably pretty, its large eyes of a deep blue set off strikingly by the sun-bronzed complexion. Her small, regular features are marked by a certain strength--an underlying, stubborn fixity of purpose hidden in the frankly-appealing charm of her fresh youthfulness. She wears a simple white dress but no hat.]95 RUTH--[Seeing him.] Hello, Rob!96 ROBERT--[Startled.] Hello, Ruth!97 RUTH--[Jumps the ditch and perches on the fence beside him.] I was looking for you.98 ROBERT--[Pointedly.] Andy just left here.99 RUTH--I know. I met him on the road a second ago. He told me you were here. [Tenderly playful.] I wasn't looking for Andy, Smarty, if that's what you mean. I was looking for you.100 ROBERT--Because I'm going away tomorrow?101 RUTH--Because your mother was anxious to have you come home and asked me to look for you. I just wheeled Ma over to your house.102 ROBERT--[Perfunctorily.] How is your mother?103 RUTH--[A shadow coming over her face.] She's about the same. She never seems to get any better or any worse. Oh, Rob, I do wish she'd pick up a little or---- or try to make the best of things that can't be helped.104 ROBERT--Has she been nagging at you again?105 RUTH--[Nods her head, and then breaks forth rebelliously.] She never stops nagging. No matter what I do for her she finds fault. She's growing more irritable every day. Oh, Rob, you've no idea how hard it is living there alone with her in that big lonely house. It's enough to drive anyone mad. If only Pa was still living---- [She stops as if ashamed of her outburst.] I suppose I shouldn't complain this way. I wouldn't to any one but you. [She sighs.] Poor Ma, Lord knows it's hard enough for her--having to be wheeled around in a chair ever since I was born. I suppose it's natural to be cross when you're not able ever to walk a step. But why should she be in a temper with me all the time? Oh, I'd like to be going away some place--like you!106 ROBERT--It's hard to stay--and equally hard to go, sometimes.107 RUTH--There! If I'm not the stupid body! I swore I wasn't going to speak about your trip--until after you'd gone; and there I go, first thing!108 ROBERT--Why didn't you want to speak of it?109 RUTH--Because I didn't want to spoil this last night you're here. Oh, Rob, I'm going to--we're all going to miss you so awfully. Your mother is going around looking as if she'd burst out crying any minute. You ought to know how I feel. Andy and you and I--why it seems as if we'd always been together.110 ROBERT--[With a wry attempt at a smile.] You and Andy will still have each other. It'll be harder for me without anyone.111 RUTH--But you'll have new sights and new people to take your mind off; while we'll be here with the old, familiar place to remind us every minute of the day. It's a shame you're going--just at this time, in spring, when everything is getting so nice. [With a sigh.] I oughtn't to talk that way when I know going's the best thing for you--on account of your health. The sea trip's bound to do you so much good, everyone says.112 ROBERT--[With a half-resentful grimace.] Don't tell me you think I'm a hopeless invalid, too! I've heard enough of that talk from the folks. Honestly, Ruth, I feel better than I ever did in my life. I'm disgustingly healthy. I wouldn't even consider my health an excuse for this trip.113 RUTH--[Vaguely.] Of course you're bound to find all sorts of opportunities to get on, your father says.114 ROBERT--[Heatedly.] I don't give a damn about that! I wouldn't take a voyage across the road for the best opportunity in the world of the kind Pa thinks of. I'd run away from it instead. [He smiles at his own irritation.] Excuse me, Ruth, for getting worked up over it; but Andy gave me an overdose of the practical considerations.115 RUTH--[Slowly puzzled.] Well, then, if it isn't any of those reasons---- [With sudden intensity.] Oh, Rob, why do you want to go?116 ROBERT--[Turning to her quickly, in surprise--slowly.] Why do you ask that, Ruth?117 RUTH--[Dropping her eyes before his searching glance.] Because---- [Lamely.] It seems such a shame.118 ROBERT--[Insistently.] Why?119 RUTH--Oh, because--everything.120 ROBERT--I could hardly back out now, even if I wanted to. And I'll be forgotten before you know it.121 RUTH--[Indignantly.] You won't! I'll never forget---- [She stops and turns away to hide her confusion.]122 ROBERT--[Softly.] Will you promise me that?123 RUTH--[Evasively.] Of course. It's mean of you to think that any of us would forget so easily.124 ROBERT--[Disappointedly.] Oh!125 RUTH--[With an attempt at lightness.] But you haven't told me your reason for leaving yet? Aren't you going to?126 ROBERT--[Moodily.] I doubt if you'll understand. It's difficult to explain, even to myself. It's more an instinctive longing that won't stand dissection. Either you feel it, or you don't. The cause of it all is in the blood and the bone, I guess, not in the brain, although imagination plays a large part in it. I can remember being conscious of it first when I was only a kid--you haven't forgotten what a sickly specimen I was then, in those days, have you?127 RUTH--[With a shudder.] They're past. Let's not think about them.128 ROBERT--You'll have to, to understand. Well, in those days, when Ma was fixing meals, she used to get me out of the way by pushing my chair to the west window and telling me to look out and be quiet. That wasn't hard. I guess I was always quiet.129 RUTH--[Compassionately.] Yes, you always were--and you suffering so much, too!130 ROBERT--[Musingly.] So I used to stare out over the fields to the hills, out there--[He points to the horizon] and somehow after a time I'd forget any pain I was in, and start dreaming. I knew the sea was over beyond those hills,--the folks had told me--and I used to wonder what the sea was like, and try to form a picture of it in my mind. [With a smile.] There was all the mystery in the world to me then about that--far-off sea--and there still is! It called to me then just as it does now. [After a slight pause.] And other times my eyes would follow this road, winding off into the distance, toward the hills, as if it, too, was searching for the sea. And I'd promise myself that when I grew up and was strong, I'd follow that road, and it and I would find the sea together. [With a smile.] You see, my making this trip is only keeping that promise of long ago.131 RUTH--[Charmed by his low, musical voice telling the dreams of his childhood.] Yes, I see.132 ROBERT--Those were the only happy moments of my life then, dreaming there at the window. I liked to be all alone--those times. I got to know all the different kinds of sunsets by heart--the clear ones and the cloudy ones, and all the color schemes of their countless variations--although I could hardly name more than three or four colors correctly. And all those sunsets took place over there--[He points] beyond the horizon. So gradually I came to believe that all the wonders of the world happened on the other side of those hills. There was the home of the good fairies who performed beautiful miracles. [He smiles.] I believed in fairies then, although I suppose I ought to have been ashamed of it from a boy's standpoint. But you know how contemptuous of all religion Pa's always been--even the mention of it in the house makes him angry.133 RUTH--Yes. [Wearily.] It's just the opposite to our house.134 ROBERT--He'd bullied Ma into being ashamed of believing in anything and he'd forbidden her to teach Andy or me. There wasn't much about our home but the life on the farm. I didn't like that, so I had to believe in fairies. [With a smile.] Perhaps I still do believe in them. Anyway, in those days they were real enough, and sometimes--I suppose the mental science folks would explain it by self-hypnosis--I could actually hear them calling to me in soft whispers to come out and play with them, dance with them down the road in the dusk in a game of hide-and-seek to find out where the sun was hiding himself. They sang their little songs to me, songs that told of all the wonderful things they had in their home on the other side of the hills; and they promised to show me all of them, if I'd only come, come! But I couldn't come then, and I used to cry sometimes and Ma would think I was in pain. [He breaks off suddenly with a laugh.] That's why I'm going now, I suppose. For I can still hear them calling, although I'm a man and have seen the other side of many hills. But the horizon is as far away and as luring as ever. [He turns to her--softly.] Do you understand now, Ruth?135 RUTH--[Spellbound, in a whisper.] Yes.136 ROBERT--You feel it then?137 RUTH--Yes, yes, I do! [Unconsciously she snuggles close against his side. His arm steals about her as if he were not aware of the action.] Oh, Rob, how could I help feeling it? You tell things so beautifully!138 ROBERT--[Suddenly realizing that his arm is around her, and that her head is resting on his shoulder, gently takes his arm away. RUTH, brought back to herself, is overcome with confusion.] So now you know why I'm going. It's for that reason--that and one other.139 RUTH--You've another? Then you must tell me that, too.140 ROBERT--[Looking at her searchingly. She drops her eyes before his gaze.] I wonder if I ought to. I wonder if you'd really care to hear it--if you knew. You'll promise not to be angry--whatever it is?141 RUTH--[Softly, her face still averted.] Yes, I promise.142 ROBERT--[Simply.] I love you. That's the other reason.143 RUTH--[Hiding her face in her hands.] Oh, Rob!144 ROBERT--You must let me finish now I've begun. I wasn't going to tell you, but I feel I have to. It can't matter to you now that I'm going so far away, and for so long--perhaps forever. I've loved you all these years, but the realization of it never came to me 'til I agreed to go away with Uncle Dick. Then I thought of leaving you, and the pain of that thought revealed the truth to me in a flash--that I loved you, had loved you as long as I could remember. [He gently pulls one of RUTH'S hands away from her face.] You musn't mind my telling you this, Ruth. I realize how impossible it all is--and I understand; for the revelation of my own love seemed to open my eyes to the love of others. I saw Andy's love for you--and I knew that you must love him.145 RUTH--[Breaking out stormily.] I don't! I don't love Andy! I don't! [ROBERT stares at her in stupid astonishment. RUTH weeps hysterically.] Whatever--put such a fool notion into--into your head? [She suddenly throws her arms about his neck and hides her head on his shoulder.] Oh, Rob! Don't go away! Please! You mustn't, now! You can't! I won't let you! It'd break my--my heart!146 ROBERT--[The expression of stupid bewilderment giving way to one of overwhelming joy. He presses her close to him--slowly and tenderly.] Do you mean that--that you love me?147 RUTH--[Sobbing.] Yes, yes--of course I do--what d'you s'pose? [She lifts up her head and looks into his eyes with a tremulous smile.] You stupid thing! [He kisses her.] I've loved you right along.148 ROBERT--[Mystified.] But you and Andy were always together!149 RUTH--Because you never seemed to want to go any place with me. You were always reading an old book, and not paying any attention to me. I was too proud to let you see I cared because I thought the year you had away to college had made you stuck-up, and you thought yourself too educated to waste any time on me.150 ROBERT--[Kissing her.] And I was thinking---- [With a laugh.] What fools we've both been!151 RUTH--[Overcome by a sudden fear.] You won't go away on the trip, will you, Rob? You'll tell them you can't go on account of me, won't you? You can't go now! You can't!152 ROBERT--[Bewildered.] Perhaps--you can come too.153 RUTH--Oh, Rob, don't be so foolish. You know I can't. Who'd take care of Ma? She has no one in the world but me. I can't leave her--the way she is. It'd be different if she was well and healthy like other people. Don't you see I couldn't go--on her account?154 ROBERT--[Vaguely.] I could go--and then send for you both--when I'd settled some place out there.155 RUTH--Ma never could. She'd never leave the farm for anything; and she couldn't make a trip anywhere 'til she got better--if she ever does. And oh, Rob, I wouldn't want to live in any of those outlandish places you were going to. I couldn't stand it there, I know I couldn't--not knowing anyone. It makes me afraid just to think of it. I've never been away from here, hardly and--I'm just a home body, I'm afraid. [She clings to him imploringly.] Please don't go--not now. Tell them you've decided not to. They won't mind. I know your mother and father'll be glad. They'll all be. They don't want you to go so far away from them. Please, Rob! We'll be so happy here together where it's natural and we know things. Please tell me you won't go!156 ROBERT--[Face to face with a definite, final decision, betrays the conflict going on within him.] But--Ruth--I--Uncle Dick----157 RUTH--He won't mind when he knows it's for your happiness to stay. How could he? [As ROBERT remains silent she bursts into sobs again.] Oh, Rob! And you said--you loved me!158 ROBERT--[Conquered by this appeal--an irrevocable decision in his voice.] I won't go, Ruth. I promise you. There! Don't cry! [He presses her to him, stroking her hair tenderly. After a pause he speaks with happy hopefulness.] Perhaps after all Andy was right--righter than he knew--when he said I could find all the things I was seeking for here, at home on the farm. The mystery and the wonder--our love should bring them home to us. I think love must have been the secret--the secret that called to me from over the world's rim--the secret beyond every horizon; and when I did not come, it came to me. [He clasps RUTH to him fiercely.] Oh, Ruth, you are right! Our love is sweeter than any distant dream. It is the meaning of all life, the whole world. The kingdom of heaven is within--us! [He kisses her passionately and steps to the ground, lifting RUTH in his arms and carrying her to the road where he puts her down.]159 RUTH--[With a happy laugh.] My, but you're strong!160 ROBERT--Come! We'll go and tell them at once.161 RUTH--[Dismayed.] Oh, no, don't, Rob, not 'til after I've gone. Then you can tell your folks and I'll tell Ma when I get her home. There'd be bound to be such a scene with them all together.162 ROBERT--[Kissing her--gaily.] As you like--little Miss Common Sense!163 RUTH--Let's go, then. [She takes his hand, and they start to go off left. ROBERT suddenly stops and turns as though for a last look at the hills and the dying sunset flush.]164 ROBERT--[Looking upward and pointing.] See! The first star. [He bends down and kisses her tenderly.] Our star!165 RUTH--[In a soft murmur.] Yes. Our very own star. [They stand for a moment looking up at it, their arms around each other. Then RUTH takes his hand again and starts to lead him away.] Come, Rob, let's go. [His eyes are fixed again on the horizon as he half turns to follow her. RUTH urges.] We'll be late for supper, Rob.166 ROBERT--[Shakes his head impatiently, as though he were throwing off some disturbing thought--with a laugh.] All right. We'll run then. Come on! [They run off laughing as167[The Curtain Falls] ACT ONE SCENE TWO SCENE--The sitting room of the Mayo farm house about nine o'clock the same night. On the left, two windows looking out on the fields. Against the wall between the windows, an old-fashioned walnut desk. In the left corner, rear, a sideboard with a mirror. In the rear wall to the right of the sideboard, a window looking out on the road. Next to the window a door leading out into the yard. Farther right, a black horse-hair sofa, and another door opening on a bedroom. In the corner, a straight-backed chair. In the right wall, near the middle, an open doorway leading to the kitchen. Farther forward a double-heater stove with coal scuttle, etc. In the center of the newly carpeted floor, an oak dining-room table with a red cover. In the center of the table, a large oil reading lamp. Four chairs, three rockers with crocheted tidies on their backs, and one straight-backed, are placed about the table. The walls are papered a dark red with a scrolly-figured pattern.1 Everything in the room is clean, well-kept, and in its exact place, yet there is no suggestion of primness about the whole. Rather the atmosphere is one of the orderly comfort of a simple, hard-earned prosperity, enjoyed and maintained by the family as a unit.2 JAMES MAYO, his wife, her brother, CAPTAIN DICK SCOTT, and ANDREW are discovered. MRS. MAYO is a slight, round-faced, rather prim-looking woman of fifty-five who had once been a school teacher. The labors of a farmer's wife have bent but not broken her, and she retains a certain refinement of movement and expression foreign to the Mayo part of the family. Whatever of resemblance ROBERT has to his parents may be traced to her. Her brother, the CAPTAIN, is short and stocky, with a weather-beaten, jovial face and a white moustache--a typical old salt, loud of voice and given to gesture. He is fifty-eight years old.3 JAMES MAYO sits in front of the table. He wears spectacles, and a farm journal which he has been reading lies in his lap. THE CAPTAIN leans forward from a chair in the rear, his hands on the table in front of him. ANDREW is tilted back on the straight-backed chair to the left, his chin sunk forward on his chest, staring at the carpet, preoccupied and frowning.4 As the Curtain rises the CAPTAIN is just finishing the relation of some sea episode. The others are pretending an interest which is belied by the absent-minded expressions on their faces.5 THE CAPTAIN--[Chuckling.] And that mission woman, she hails me on the dock as I was acomin' ashore, and she says--with her silly face all screwed up serious as judgment--"Captain," she says, "would you be so kind as to tell me where the sea-gulls sleeps at nights?" Blow me if them warn't her exact words! [He slaps the table with the palm of his hands and laughs loudly. The others force smiles.] Ain't that just like a fool woman's question? And I looks at her serious as I could, "Ma'm," says I, "I couldn't rightly answer that question. I ain't never seed a sea-gull in his bunk yet. The next time I hears one snorin'," I says, "I'll make a note of where he's turned in, and write you a letter 'bout it." And then she calls me a fool real spiteful and tacks away from me quick. [He laughs again uproariously.] So I got rid of her that way. [The others smile but immediately relapse into expressions of gloom again.]6 MRS. MAYO--[Absent-mindedly--feeling that she has to say something.] But when it comes to that, where do sea-gulls sleep, Dick?7 SCOTT--[Slapping the table.] Ho! Ho! Listen to her, James. 'Nother one! Well, if that don't beat all hell--'scuse me for cussin', Kate.8 MAYO--[With a twinkle in his eyes.] They unhitch their wings, Katey, and spreads 'em out on a wave for a bed.9 SCOTT--And then they tells the fish to whistle to 'em when it's time to turn out. Ho! Ho!10 MRS. MAYO--[With a forced smile.] You men folks are too smart to live, aren't you? [She resumes her knitting. MAYO pretends to read his paper; ANDREW stares at the floor.]11 SCOTT--[Looks from one to the other of them with a puzzled air. Finally he is unable to bear the thick silence a minute longer, and blurts out:] You folks look as if you was settin' up with a corpse. [With exaggerated concern.] God A'mighty, there ain't anyone dead, be there?12 MAYO--[Sharply.] Don't play the dunce, Dick! You know as well as we do there ain't no great cause to be feelin' chipper.13 SCOTT--[Argumentatively.] And there ain't no cause to be wearin' mourning, either, I can make out.14 MRS. MAYO--[Indignantly.] How can you talk that way, Dick Scott, when you're taking our Robbie away from us, in the middle of the night, you might say, just to get on that old boat of yours on time! I think you might wait until morning when he's had his breakfast.15 SCOTT--[Appealing to the others hopelessly.] Ain't that a woman's way o' seein' things for you? God A'mighty, Kate, I can't give orders to the tide that it's got to be high just when it suits me to have it. I ain't gettin' no fun out o' missin' sleep and leavin' here at six bells myself. [Protestingly.] And the Sunda ain't an old ship--leastways, not very old--and she's good's she ever was. Your boy Robert'll be as safe on board o' her as he'd be home in bed here.16 MRS. MAYO--How can you say that, Dick, when we read in almost every paper about wrecks and storms, and ships being sunk.17 SCOTT--You've got to take your chances with such things. They don't happen often--not nigh as often as accidents do ashore.18 MRS. MAYO--[Her lips trembling.] I wish Robbie weren't going--not so far away and for so long.19 MAYO--[Looking at her over his glasses--consolingly.] There, Katey!20 MRS. MAYO--[Rebelliously.] Well, I do wish he wasn't! It'd be different if he'd ever been away from home before for any length of time. If he was healthy and strong too, it'd be different. I'm so afraid he'll be taken down ill when you're miles from land, and there's no one to take care of him.21 MAYO--That's the very reason you was willin' for him to go, Katey--'count o' your bein' 'fraid for his health.22 MRS. MAYO--[Illogically.] But he seems to be all right now without Dick taking him away.23 SCOTT--[Protestingly.] You'd think to hear you, Kate, that I was kidnappin' Robert agin your will. Now I ain't asayin' I ain't tickled to death to have him along, because I be. It's a'mighty lonesome for a captain on a sailin' vessel at times, and Robert'll be company for me. But what I'm sayin' is, I didn't propose it. I never even suspicioned that he was hankerin' to ship out, or that you'd let him go 'til you and James speaks to me 'bout it. And now you blames me for it.24 MAYO--That's so. Dick's speaking the truth, Katey.25 SCOTT--You shouldn't be taking it so hard, 's far as I kin see. This vige'll make a man of him. I'll see to it he learns how to navigate, 'n' study for a mate's c'tificate right off--and it'll give him a trade for the rest of his life, if he wants to travel.26 MRS. MAYO.--But I don't want him to travel all his life. You've got to see he comes home when this trip is over. Then he'll be all well, and he'll want to--to marry--[ANDREW sits forward in his chair with an abrupt movement.]--and settle down right here.27 SCOTT--Well, in any case it won't hurt him to learn things when he's travellin'. And then he'll get to see a lot of the world in the ports we put in at, 'n' that 'll help him afterwards, no matter what he takes up.28 MRS. MAYO--[Staring down at the knitting in her lap--as if she hadn't heard him.] I never realized how hard it was going to be for me to have Robbie go--or I wouldn't have considered it a minute. [On the verge of tears.] Oh, if only he wouldn't go!29 SCOTT--It ain't no good goin' on that way, Kate, now it's all settled.30 MRS. MAYO--[Half-sobbing.] It's all right for you to talk. You've never had any children of your own, and you don't know what it means to be parted from them--and Robbie my youngest, too. [ANDREW frowns and fidgets in his chair.]31 MAYO--[A trace of command in his voice.] No use takin' on so, Katey! It's best for the boy. We've got to take that into consideration--no matter how much we hate to lose him. [Firmly.] And like Dick says, it's all settled now.32 ANDREW--[Suddenly turning to them.] There's one thing none of you seem to take into consideration--that Rob wants to go. He's dead set on it. He's been dreaming over this trip ever since it was first talked about. It wouldn't be fair to him not to have him go. [A sudden thought seems to strike him and he continues doubtfully.] At least, not if he still feels the same way about it he did when he was talking to me this evening.33 MAYO--[With an air of decision.] Andy's right, Katey. Robert wants to go. That ends all argyment, you can see that.34 MRS. MAYO--[Faintly, but resignedly.] Yes. I suppose it must be, then.35 MAYO--[Looking at his big silver watch.] It's past nine. Wonder what's happened to Robert. He's been gone long enough to wheel the widder to home, certain. He can't be out dreamin' at the stars his last night.36 MRS. MAYO--[A bit reproachfully.] Why didn't you wheel Mrs. Atkins back tonight, Andy? You usually do when she and Ruth come over.37 ANDREW--[Avoiding her eyes.] I thought maybe Robert wanted to go tonight. He offered to go right away when they were leaving.38 MRS. MAYO--He only wanted to be polite.39 ANDREW--[Gets to his feet.] Well, he'll be right back, I guess. [He turns to his father.] Guess I'll go take a look at the black cow, Pa--see if she's ailing any.40 MAYO--Yes--better had, son. [ANDREW goes into the kitchen on the right.]41 SCOTT--[As he goes out--in a low tone.] There's the boy that would make a good, strong sea-farin' man--if he'd a mind to.42 MAYO--[Sharply.] Don't you put no such fool notions in Andy's head, Dick--or you 'n' me's goin' to fall out. [Then he smiles.] You couldn't tempt him, no ways. Andy's a Mayo bred in the bone, and he's a born farmer, and a damn good one, too. He'll live and die right here on this farm, like I expect to. [With proud confidence.] And he'll make this one of the slickest, best-payin' farms in the state, too, afore he gits through!43 SCOTT--Seems to me it's a pretty slick place right now.44 MAYO--[Shaking his head.] It's too small. We need more land to make it amount to much, and we ain't got the capital to buy it. [ANDREW enters from the kitchen. His hat is on, and he carries a lighted lantern in his hand. He goes to the door in the rear leading out.]45 ANDREW--[Opens the door and pauses.] Anything else you can think of to be done, Pa?46 MAYO--No, nothin' I know of. [ANDREW goes out, shutting the door.]47 MRS. MAYO--[After a pause.] What's come over Andy tonight, I wonder? He acts so strange.48 MAYO--He does seem sort o' glum and out of sorts. It's 'count o' Robert leavin', I s'pose. [To SCOTT.] Dick, you wouldn't believe how them boys o' mine sticks together. They ain't like most brothers. They've been thick as thieves all their lives, with nary a quarrel I kin remember.49 SCOTT--No need to tell me that. I can see how they take to each other.50 MRS. MAYO--[Pursuing her train of thought.] Did you notice, James, how queer everyone was at supper? Robert seemed stirred up about something; and Ruth was so flustered and giggly; and Andy sat there dumb, looking as if he'd lost his best friend; and all of them only nibbled at their food.51 MAYO--Guess they was all thinkin' about tomorrow, same as us.52 MRS. MAYO--[Shaking her head.] No. I'm afraid somethin's happened--somethin' else.53 MAYO--You mean--'bout Ruth?54 MRS. MAYO--Yes.55 MAYO--[After a pause--frowning.] I hope her and Andy ain't had a serious fallin'-out. I always sorter hoped they'd hitch up together sooner or later. What d'you say, Dick? Don't you think them two'd pair up well?56 SCOTT--[Nodding his head approvingly.] A sweet, wholesome couple they'd make.57 MAYO--It'd be a good thing for Andy in more ways than one. I ain't what you'd call calculatin' generally, and I b'lieve in lettin' young folks run their affairs to suit themselves; but there's advantages for both o' them in this match you can't overlook in reason. The Atkins farm is right next to ourn. Jined together they'd make a jim-dandy of a place, with plenty o' room to work in. And bein' a widder with only a daughter, and laid up all the time to boot, Mrs. Atkins can't do nothin' with the place as it ought to be done. Her hired help just goes along as they pleases, in spite o' her everlastin' complainin' at 'em. She needs a man, a first-class farmer, to take hold o' things; and Andy's just the one.58 MRS. MAYO--[Abruptly.] I don't think Ruth loves Andy.59 MAYO--You don't? Well, maybe a woman's eyes is sharper in such things, but--they're always together. And if she don't love him now, she'll likely come around to it in time.60 MAYO--[As MRS. MAYO shakes her head.] You seem mighty fixed in your opinion, Katey. How d'you know?61 MRS. MAYO--It's just--what I feel.62 MAYO--[A light breaking over him.] You don't mean to say--[MRS. MAYO nods. MAYO chuckles scornfully.] Shucks! I'm losin' my respect for your eyesight, Katey. Why, Robert ain't got no time for Ruth, 'cept as a friend!63 MRS. MAYO--[Warningly.] Sss-h-h! [The door from the yard opens, and ROBERT enters. He is smiling happily, and humming a song to himself, but as he comes into the room an undercurrent of nervous uneasiness manifests itself in his bearing.]64 MAYO--So here you be at last! [ROBERT comes forward and sits on ANDY'S chair. MAYO smiles slyly at his wife.] What have you been doin' all this time--countin' the stars to see if they all come out right and proper?65 ROBERT--There's only one I'll ever look for any more, Pa.66 MAYO--[Reproachfully.] You might've even not wasted time lookin' for that one--your last night.67 MRS. MAYO--[As if she were speaking to a child.] You ought to have worn your coat a sharp night like this, Robbie.68 ROBERT--I wasn't cold, Ma. It's beautiful and warm on the road.69 SCOTT--[Disgustedly.] God A'mighty, Kate, you treat Robert as if he was one year old!70 ROBERT--[With a smile.] I'm used to that, Uncle.71 SCOTT--[With joking severity.] You'll learn to forget all that baby coddlin' nights down off the Horn when you're haulin' hell-bent on the braces with a green sea up to your neck, and the old hooker doin' summersaults under you. That's the stuff 'll put iron in your blood, eh Kate?72 MRS. MAYO--[Indignantly.] What are you trying to do, Dick Scott--frighten me out of my senses? If you can't say anything cheerful, you'd better keep still.73 SCOTT--Don't take on, Kate. I was only joshin' him and you.74 MRS. MAYO--You have strange notions of what's a joke, I must say! [She notices ROBERT'S nervous uneasiness.] You look all worked up over something, Robbie. What is it?75 ROBERT--[Swallowing hard, looks quickly from one to the other of them--then begins determinedly.] Yes, there is something--something I must tell you--all of you. [As he begins to talk ANDREW enters quietly from the rear, closing the door behind him, and setting the lighted lantern on the floor. He remains standing by the door, his arms folded, listening to ROBERT with a repressed expression of pain on his face. ROBERT is so much taken up with what he is going to say that he does not notice ANDREW'S presence.] Something I discovered only this evening--very beautiful and wonderful--something I did not take into consideration previously because I hadn't dared to hope that such happiness could ever come to me. [Appealingly.] You must all remember that fact, won't you?76 MAYO--[Frowning.] Let's get to the point, son.77 ROBERT--You were offended because you thought I'd been wasting my time star-gazing on my last night at home. [With a trace of defiance.] Well, the point is this, Pa; it isn't my last night at home. I'm not going--I mean--I can't go tomorrow with Uncle Dick--or at any future time, either.78 MRS. MAYO--[With a sharp sigh of joyful relief.] Oh, Robbie, I'm so glad!79 MAYO--[Astounded.] You ain't serious, be you, Robert?80 ROBERT--Yes, I mean what I say.81 MAYO--[Severely.] Seems to me it's a pretty late hour in the day for you to be upsettin' all your plans so sudden!82 ROBERT--I asked you to remember that until this evening I didn't know myself--the wonder which makes everything else in the world seem sordid and pitifully selfish by comparison. I had never dared to dream----83 MAYO--[Irritably.] Come to the point. What is this foolishness you're talkin' of?84 ROBERT--[Flushing.] Ruth told me this evening that--she loved me. It was after I'd confessed I loved her. I told her I hadn't been conscious of my love until after the trip had been arranged, and I realized it would mean--leaving her. That was the truth. I didn't know until then. [As if justifying himself to the others.] I hadn't intended telling her anything but--suddenly--I felt I must. I didn't think it would matter, because I was going away, and before I came back I was sure she'd have forgotten. And I thought she loved--someone else. [Slowly--his eyes shining.] And then she cried and said it was I she'd loved all the time, but I hadn't seen it. [Simply.] So we're going to be married--very soon--and I'm happy--and that's all there is to say. [Appealingly.] But you see, I couldn't go away now--even if I wanted to.85 MRS. MAYO--[Getting up from her chair.] Of course not! [Rushes over and throws her arms about him.] I knew it! I was just telling your father when you came in--and, Oh, Robbie, I'm so happy you're not going!86 ROBERT--[Kissing her.] I knew you'd be glad, Ma.87 MAYO--[Bewilderedly.] Well, I'll be damned! You do beat all for gettin' folks' minds all tangled up, Robert. And Ruth too! Whatever got into her of a sudden? Why, I was thinkin'----88 MRS. MAYO--[Hurriedly--in a tone of warning.] Never mind what you were thinking, James. It wouldn't be any use telling us that now. [Meaningly.] And what you were hoping for turns out just the same almost, doesn't it?89 MAYO--[Thoughtfully--beginning to see this side of the argument.] Yes; I suppose you're right, Katey. [Scratching his head in puzzlement.] But how it ever come about! It do beat anything ever I heard. [Finally he gets up with a sheepish grin and walks over to ROBERT.] We're glad you ain't goin', your Ma and I, for we'd have missed you terrible, that's certain and sure; and we're glad you've found happiness. Ruth's a fine girl and'll make a good wife to you.90 ROBERT--[Much moved.] Thank you, Pa. [He grips his father's hand in his.]91 ANDREW--[His face tense and drawn comes forward and holds out his hand, forcing a smile.] I guess it's my turn to offer congratulations, isn't it?92 ROBERT--[With a startled cry when his brother appears before him so suddenly.] Andy! [Confused.] Why--I--I didn't see you. Were you here when----93 ANDREW--I heard everything you said; and here's wishing you every happiness, you and Ruth. You both deserve the best there is.94 ROBERT--[Taking his hand.] Thanks, Andy, it's fine of you to---- [His voice dies away as he sees the pain in ANDREW'S eyes.]95 ANDREW--[Giving his brother's hand a final grip.] Good luck to you both! [He turns away and goes back to the rear when he bends over the lantern, fumbling with it to hide his emotion from the others.]96 MRS. MAYO--[To the CAPTAIN, who has been too flabbergasted by ROBERT'S decision to say a word.] What's the matter, Dick? Aren't you going to congratulate Robbie?97 SCOTT--[Embarrassed.] Of course I be! [He gets to his feet and shakes ROBERT'S hand, muttering a vague] Luck to you, boy. [He stands beside ROBERT as if he wanted to say something more but doesn't know how to go about it.]98 ROBERT--Thanks, Uncle Dick.99 SCOTT--So you're not acomin' on the Sunda with me? [His voice indicates disbelief.]100 ROBERT--I can't, Uncle--not now. I'm very grateful to you for having wanted to take me. I wouldn't miss it for anything else in the world under any other circumstances. [He sighs unconsciously.] But you see I've found--a bigger dream.101 SCOTT--[Gruffly.] Bring the girl along with you. I'll fix it so there's room.102 MRS. MAYO--[Sharply.] How can you propose such a crazy idea, Dick--to take a young girl on a sail-boat all over the world and not a woman on the boat but herself. Have you lost your senses?103 ROBERT--[Regretfully.] It would be wonderful if we could both go with you, Uncle--but it's impossible. Ruth couldn't go on account of her mother, and besides, I'm afraid she doesn't like the idea of the sea.104 SCOTT--[Putting all his disapproval into an exclamation.] Humph! [He goes back and sits down at the table.]105 ROBERT--[In joyous high spirits.] I want you all to understand one thing--I'm not going to be a loafer on your hands any longer. This means the beginning of a new life for me in every way. I'm sick and disgusted at myself for sitting around and seeing everyone else hard at work, while all I've been doing is keep the accounts--a couple of hours work a week! I'm going to settle right down and take a real interest in the farm, and do my share. I'll prove to you, Pa, that I'm as good a Mayo as you are--or Andy, when I want to be.106 MAYO--[Kindly but skeptically.] That's the right spirit, Robert, but it ain't needful for you to----107 MRS. MAYO--[Interrupting him.] No one said you weren't doing your part, Robbie. You've got to look out for----108 ROBERT--I know what you're going to say, and that's another false idea you've got to get out of your heads. It's ridiculous for you to persist in looking on me as an invalid. I'm as well as anyone, and I'll prove it to you if you'll give me half a chance. Once I get the hang of it, I'll be able to do as hard a day's work as any one. You wait and see.109 MAYO--Ain't none of us doubts your willin'ness, but you ain't never learned----110 ROBERT--Then I'm going to start learning right away, and you'll teach me, won't you?111 MAYO--[Mollifyingly.] Of course I will, boy, and be glad to, only you'd best go easy at first.112 ROBERT--With the two farms to look after, you'll need me; and when I marry Ruth I'll have to know how to take care of things for her and her mother.113 MAYO--That's so, son.114 SCOTT--[Who has listened to this conversation in mingled consternation and amazement.] You don't mean to tell me you're goin' to let him stay, do you, James?115 MAYO--Why, things bein' as they be, Robert's free to do as he's a mind to.116 MRS. MAYO--Let him! The very idea!117 SCOTT--[More and more ruffled.] Then all I got to say is, you're a soft, weak-willed critter to be permittin' a boy--and women, too--to be layin' your course for you wherever they damn pleases.118 MAYO--[Slyly amused.] It's just the same with me as 'twas with you, Dick. You can't order the tides on the seas to suit you, and I ain't pretendin' I can reg'late love for young folks.119 SCOTT--[Scornfully.] Love! They ain't old enough to know love when they sight it! Love! I'm ashamed of you, Robert, to go lettin' a little huggin' and kissin' in the dark spile your chances to make a man out o' yourself. It ain't common sense--no siree, it ain't--not by a hell of a sight! [He pounds the table with his fists in exasperation.]120 ROBERT--[Smiling.] I'm afraid I can't help it, Uncle.121 SCOTT--Humph! You ain't got any sand, that's what! And you, James Mayo, lettin' boys and women run things to the devil and back--you've got less sense than he has!122 MAYO--[With a grin.] If Robert can't help it, I'm sure I ain't able, Dick.123 MRS. MAYO--[Laughing provokingly at her brother.] A fine one you are to be talking about love, Dick--an old cranky bachelor like you. Goodness sakes!124 SCOTT--[Exasperated by their joking.] I've never been a damn fool like most, if that's what you're steerin' at.125 MRS. MAYO--[Tauntingly.] Sour grapes, aren't they, Dick? [She laughs. ROBERT and his father chuckle. SCOTT sputters with annoyance.] Good gracious, Dick, you do act silly, flying into a temper over nothing.126 SCOTT--[Indignantly.] Nothin'! Is that what you call it--nothin'? You talk as if I wasn't concerned nohow in this here business. Seems to me I've got a right to have my say. Ain't I gone to all sorts o' trouble gettin' the sta'b'd cabin all cleaned out and painted and fixed up so's that Robert o' yours 'd be comfortable? Ain't I made all arrangements with the owners and stocked up with some special grub all on Robert's account?127 ROBERT--You've been fine, Uncle Dick; and I appreciate it. Truly.128 MAYO--'Course; we all does, Dick.129 MRS. MAYO--And don't spoil it now by getting angry at us.130 SCOTT--[Unplacated.] It's all right for you to say don't this and don't that; but you ain't seen things from my side of it. I've been countin' sure on havin' Robert for company on this vige--to sorta talk to and show things to, and teach, kinda, and I got my mind so set on havin' him I'm goin' to be double lonesome this vige. [He pounds on the table, attempting to cover up this confession of weakness.] Darn all this silly lovin' business, anyway.131 MRS. MAYO--[Touched.] It's too bad you have to be so lonesome, Dick. Why don't you give up the old boat? You've been on the sea long enough, heaven's knows. Why don't you make up your mind and settle down here with us?132 SCOTT--[Emphatically.] And go diggin' up the dirt and plantin' things? Not by a hell of a sight! You can have all the darned dirt in the earth for all o' me. I ain't sayin' it ain't all right--if you're made that way--but I ain't. No settlin' down for me. No sirree! [Irritably.] But all this talk ain't tellin' me what I'm to do with that sta'b'd cabin I fixed up. It's all painted white, an a bran new mattress on the bunk, 'n' new sheets 'n' blankets 'n' things. And Chips built in a book-case so's Robert could take his books along--with a slidin' bar fixed across't it, mind, so's they couldn't fall out no matter how she rolled. [With excited consternation.] What d'you suppose my officers is goin' to think when there's no one comes aboard to occupy that sta'b'd cabin? And the men what did the work on it--what'll they think? [He shakes his finger indignantly.] They're liable as not to suspicion it was a woman I'd planned to ship along, and that she gave me the go-by at the last moment! [He wipes his perspiring brow in anguish at this thought.] Gawd A'mighty! They're only lookin' to have the laugh on me for something like that. They're liable to b'lieve anything, those fellers is!133 MAYO--[With a wink.] Then there's nothing to it but for you to get right out and hunt up a wife somewheres for that spic 'n' span cabin. She'll have to be a pretty one, too, to match it. [He looks at his watch with exaggerated concern.] You ain't got much time to find her, Dick.134 SCOTT--[As the others smile--sulkily.] You kin go to thunder, Jim Mayo!135 ANDREW--[Comes forward from where he has been standing by the door, rear, brooding. His face is set in a look of grim determination.] You needn't worry about that spare cabin, Uncle Dick, if you've a mind to take me in Robert's place.136 ROBERT--[Turning to him quickly.] Andy! [He sees at once the fixed resolve in his brother's eyes, and realizes immediately the reason for it--in consternation.] Andy, you mustn't!137 ANDREW--You've made your decision, Rob, and now I've made mine. You're out of this, remember.138 ROBERT--[Hurt by his brother's tone.] But Andy----139 ANDREW--Don't interfere, Rob--that's all I ask. [Turning to his uncle.] You haven't answered my question, Uncle Dick.140 SCOTT--[Clearing his throat, with an uneasy side glance at JAMES MAYO who is staring at his elder son as if he thought he had suddenly gone mad.] O' course, I'd be glad to have you, Andy.141 ANDREW--It's settled then. I can pack the little I want to take in a few minutes.142 MRS. MAYO--Don't be a fool, Dick. Andy's only joking you. He wouldn't go for anything.143 SCOTT--[Disgruntledly.] It's hard to tell who's jokin' and who's not in this house.144 ANDREW--[Firmly.] I'm not joking, Uncle Dick--and since I've got your permission, I'm going with you. [As SCOTT looks at him uncertainly.] You needn't be afraid I'll go back on my word. When I say I'll go, I'll go.145 ROBERT--[Hurt by the insinuation he feels in ANDREW'S one.] Andy! That isn't fair!146 MRS. MAYO--[Beginning to be disturbed.] But I know he must be fooling us. Aren't you, Andy?147 ANDREW--No, Ma, I'm not.148 MAYO--[Frowning.] Seems to me this ain't no subject to joke over--not for Andy.149 ANDREW--[Facing his father.] I agree with you, Pa, and I tell you again, once and for all, that I've made up my mind to go.150 MAYO--[Dumbfounded--unable to doubt the determination in ANDREW'S voice--helplessly.] But why, son? Why?151 ANDREW--[Evasively.] I've always wanted to go, even if I ain't said anything about it.152 ROBERT--Andy!153 ANDREW--[Half-angrily.] You shut up, Rob! I told you to keep out of this. [Turning to his father again.] I didn't ever mention it because as long as Rob was going I knew it was no use; but now Rob's staying on here, and Uncle Dick wants someone along with him, there isn't any reason for me not to go.154 MAYO--[Breathing hard.] No reason? Can you stand there and say that to me, Andrew?155 MRS. MAYO--[Hastily--seeing the gathering storm.] He doesn't mean a word of it, James.156 MAYO--[Making a gesture to her to keep silence.] Let me talk, Katey. [In a more kindly tone.] What's come over you so sudden, Andy? You know's well as I do that it wouldn't be fair o' you to run off at a moment's notice right now when we're up to our necks in hard work.157 ANDREW--[Avoiding his eyes.] Rob'll hold his end up as soon as he learns.158 MAYO--You know that ain't so. Robert was never cut out for a farmer, and you was.159 ANDREW--You can easily get a man to do my work.160 MAYO--[Restraining his anger with an effort.] It sounds strange to hear you, Andy, that I always thought had good sense, talkin' crazy like that. And you don't believe yourself one bit of what you've been sayin'--not 'less you've suddenly gone out of your mind. [Scornfully.] Get a man to take your place! Where'd I get him, tell me, with the shortage of farm labor hereabouts? And if I could get one, what int'rest d'you suppose he'd take beyond doin' as little work as he could for the money I paid him? You ain't been workin' here for no hire, Andy, that you kin give me your notice to quit like you've done. The farm is your'n as well as mine. You've always worked on it with that understanding; and what you're sayin' you intend doin' is just skulkin' out o' your rightful responsibility.161 ANDREW--[Looking at the floor--simply.] I'm sorry, Pa. [After a slight pause.] It's no use talking any more about it.162 MRS. MAYO--[In relief.] There! I knew Andy'd come to his senses!163 ANDREW--Don't get the wrong idea, Ma. I'm not backing out.164 MAYO--You mean you're goin' in spite of--everythin'?165 ANDREW--Yes. I'm going. I want to--and--I've got to. [He looks at his father defiantly.] I feel I oughtn't to miss this chance to go out into the world and see things, and--I want to go.166 MAYO--[With bitter scorn.] So--you want to go out into the world and see thin's! [His voice raised and quivering with anger.] I never thought I'd live to see the day when a son o' mine 'd look me in the face and tell a bare-faced lie! [Bursting out.] You're a liar, Andy Mayo, and a mean one to boot!167 MRS. MAYO--James!168 ROBERT--Pa!169 SCOTT--Steady there, Jim!170 MAYO--[Waving their protests aside.] He is and he knows it.171 ANDREW--[His face flushed.] I won't argue with you, Pa. You can think as badly of me as you like. I can't help that. Let's not talk about it any more. I've made up my mind, and nothing you can say will change it.172 MAYO--[Shaking his finger at ANDY, in a cold rage.] You know I'm speakin' truth--that's why you're afraid to argy! You lie when you say you want to go 'way--and see things! You ain't got no likin' in the world to go. Your place is right here on this farm--the place you was born to by nature--and you can't tell me no different. I've watched you grow up, and I know your ways, and they're my ways. You're runnin' against your own nature, and you're goin' to be a'mighty sorry for it if you do. You're tryin' to pretend to me something that don't fit in with your make-up, and it's damn fool pretendin' if you think you're foolin' me. 'S if I didn't know your real reason for runnin' away! And runnin' away's the only words to fit it. You're runnin' away 'cause you're put out and riled 'cause your own brother's got Ruth 'stead o' you, and----173 ANDREW--[His face crimson--tensely.] Stop, Pa! I won't stand hearing that--not even from you!174 MRS. MAYO--[Rushing to ANDY and putting her arms about him protectingly.] Don't mind him, Andy dear. He don't mean a word he's saying! [ROBERT stands rigidly, his hands clenched, his face contracted by pain. SCOTT sits dumbfounded and open-mouthed. ANDREW soothes his mother who is on the verge of tears.]175 MAYO--[In angry triumph.] It's the truth, Andy Mayo! And you ought to be bowed in shame to think of it!176 ROBERT--[Protestingly.] Pa! You've gone far enough. It's a shame for you to talk that way!177 MRS. MAYO--[Coming from ANDREW to his father; puts her hands on his shoulders as though to try and push him back in the chair from which he has risen.] Won't you be still, James? Please won't you?178 MAYO--[Looking at ANDREW over his wife's shoulder--stubbornly.] The truth--God's truth!179 MRS. MAYO--Sh-h-h! [She tries to put a finger across his lips, but he twists his head away.]180 ANDREW--[Who has regained control over himself.] You're wrong, Pa, it isn't truth. [With defiant assertiveness.] I don't love Ruth. I never loved her, and the thought of such a thing never entered my head.181 MAYO--[With an angry snort of disbelief.] Hump! You're pilin' lie on lie!182 ANDREW--[Losing his temper--bitterly.] I suppose it'd be hard for you to explain anyone's wanting to leave this blessed farm except for some outside reason like that. You think these few measly acres are heaven, and that none'd want to ever do nothing in all their lives but stay right here and work like a dog all the time. But I'm sick and tired of it--whether you want to believe me or not--and that's why I'm glad to get a chance to move on. I've been sick and tired of farm life for a long time, and if I hadn't said anything about it, it was only to save your feelings. Just because you love it here, you've got your mind set that I like it, too. You want me to stay on so's you can know that I'll be taking care of the rotten farm after you're gone. Well, Rob'll be here, and he's a Mayo, too. You can leave it in his hands.183 ROBERT--Andy! Don't! You're only making it worse.184 ANDREW--[Sulkily.] I don't care. I've done my share of work here. I've earned my right to quit when I want to. [Suddenly overcome with anger and grief; with rising intensity.] I'm sick and tired of the whole damn business. I hate the farm and every inch of ground in it. I'm sick of digging in the dirt and sweating in the sun like a slave without getting a word of thanks for it. [Tears of rage starting to his eyes--hoarsely.] I'm through, through for good and all; and if Uncle Dick won't take me on his ship, I'll find another. I'll get away somewhere, somehow.185 MRS. MAYO--[In a frightened voice.] Don't you answer him, James. He doesn't know what he's saying to you. Don't say a word to him 'til he's in his right senses again. Please James, don't----186 MAYO--[Pushes her away from him; his face is drawn and pale with the violence of his passion. He glares at ANDREW as if he hated him.] You dare to--you dare to speak like that to me? You talk like that 'bout this farm--the Mayo farm--where you was born--you--you---- [He clenches his fist above his head and advances threateningly on ANDREW.] You damned whelp!187 MRS. MAYO--[With a shriek.] James! [She covers her face with her hands and sinks weakly into MAYO'S chair. ANDREW remains standing motionless, his face pale and set.]188 SCOTT--[Starting to his feet and stretching his arms across the table toward MAYO.] Easy there, Jim!189 ROBERT--[Throwing himself between father and brother.] Stop! Are you mad?190 MAYO--[Grabs ROBERT'S arm and pushes him aside--then stands for a moment gasping for breath before ANDREW. He points to the door with a shaking finger.] Yes--go!--go!--You're no son o' mine--no son o' mine! You can go to hell if you want to! Don't let me find you here--in the mornin'--or--or--I'll throw you out!191 ROBERT--Pa! For God's sake!192 [MRS. MAYO bursts into noisy sobbing.]193 SCOTT--[Placatingly.] Ain't you goin' too far, Jim?194 MAYO--[Turning on him furiously.] Shut up, you--you Dick! It's your fault--a lot o' this--you and your cussed ship! Don't you take him--if you do--don't you dare darken this door again. Let him go by himself and learn to starve--starve! [He gulps convulsively and turns again to ANDREW.] And you go--tomorrow mornin'--and by God--don't come back--don't dare come back--by God, not while I'm livin'--or I'll--I'll---- [He shakes over his muttered threat and strides toward the door rear, right.]195 MRS. MAYO--[Rising and throwing her arms around him--hysterically.] James! James! Where are you going?196 MAYO--[Incoherently.] I'm goin'--to bed, Katey. It's late, Katey--it's late. [He goes out.]197 MRS. MAYO--[Following him, pleading hysterically.] James! Take back what you've said to Andy. James! [She follows him out. ROBERT and the CAPTAIN stare after them with horrified eyes. ANDREW stands rigidly looking straight in front of him, his fists clenched at his sides.]198 SCOTT--[The first to find his voice--with an explosive sigh.] Well, if he ain't the devil himself when he's roused! You oughtn't to have talked to him that way, Andy 'bout the damn farm, knowin' how touchy he is about it. [With another sigh.] Well, you won't mind what he's said in anger. He'll be sorry for it when he's calmed down a bit.199 ANDREW--[In a dead voice.] No, he won't. You don't know him. [Defiantly.] What's said is said and can't be unsaid; and I've chosen.200 SCOTT--[Uncertainly.] You don't mean--you're still a mind to go--go with me, do you?201 ANDREW--[Stubbornly.] I haven't said I've changed my mind, have I? There's all the reason in the world for me to go--now. And I'm going if you're not afraid to take me after what he said.202 ROBERT--[With violent protest.] Andy! You can't! Don't be a fool! This is all so stupid--and terrible.203 ANDREW--[Coldly.] I'll talk to you in a minute, Rob, when we're alone. This is between Uncle and me. [Crushed by his brother's cold indifference, ROBERT sinks down into a chair, holding his head in his hands. ANDREW turns again to SCOTT.] If you don't want to take me, it's all right--there's no hard feelings. I can understand you don't like to fall out with Pa.204 SCOTT--[Indignantly.] Gawd A'mighty, Andy, I ain't scared o' your Pa, nor no man livin,' I want t'have you come along! Only I was thinkin' o' Kate. We don't want her to have to suffer from his contrariness. Let's see. [He screws up his brows in thought.] S'posing we both lie a little, eh? I'll tell 'em you're not comin' with me, and you tell 'em you're goin' to the port to get another ship. We can leave here in the team together. That's natural enough. They can't suspect nothin' from that. And then you can write home the first port we touch and explain things. [He winks at ANDREW cunningly.] Are you on to the course?205 ANDREW--[Frowning.] Yes--if you think it's best.206 SCOTT--For your Ma's sake. I wouldn't ask it, else.207 ANDREW--[Shrugging his shoulders.] All right then.208 SCOTT--[With a great sigh of relief--comes and slaps ANDREW on the back--beaming.] I'm damned glad you're shippin' on, Andy. I like your spirit, and the way you spoke up to him. [Lowering his voice to a cautious whisper.] You was right not to want to waste your life plowin' dirt and pattin' it down again. The sea's the place for a young feller like you that isn't half dead 'n' alive. [He gives ANDY a final approving slap.] You'n' me 'll get along like twins, see if we don't. I'm durned glad you're comin', boy.209 ANDREW--[Wearily.] Let's not talk about it any more, Uncle. I'm tired of talking.210 SCOTT--Right! I'm goin' aloft to turn in, and leave you two alone. Don't forget to pack your dunnage. And git some sleep, if you kin. We'll want to sneak out extra early b'fore they're up. It'll do away with more argyments. Robert can drive us down to the town, and bring back the team. [He goes to the door in the rear, left.] Well, good night.211 ANDREW--Good night. [SCOTT goes out. The two brothers remain silent for a moment. Then ANDREW comes over to his brother and puts a hand on his back. He speaks in a low voice, full of feeling.] Buck up, Rob. It ain't any use crying over spilt milk; and it'll all turn out for the best--let's hope. It couldn't be helped--what's happened.212 ROBERT--[Wildly.] But it's a lie, Andy, a lie!213 ANDREW--Of course it's a lie. You know it and I know it,--but that's all ought to know it.214 ROBERT--Pa'll never forgive you. Oh, why did you want to anger him like that? You know how he feels about the farm. Oh, the whole affair is so senseless--and tragic. Why did you think you must go away?215 ANDREW--You know better than to ask that. You know why. [Fiercely.] I can wish you and Ruth all the good luck in the world, and I do, and I mean it; but you can't expect me to stay around here and watch you two together, day after day--and me alone. You couldn't expect that! I couldn't stand it--not after all the plans I'd made to happen on this place thinking---- [His voice breaks.] Thinking she cared for me.216 ROBERT--[Putting a hand on his brother's arm.] God! It's horrible! I feel so guilty--to think that I should be the cause of your suffering, after we've been such pals all our lives. If I could have foreseen what'd happen, I swear to you I'd have never said a word to Ruth. I swear I wouldn't have, Andy.217 ANDREW--I know you wouldn't; and that would've been worse, for Ruth would've suffered then. [He pats his brother's shoulder.] It's best as it is. It had to be, and I've got to stand the gaff, that's all. Pa'll see how I felt--after a time. [As ROBERT shakes his head]--and if he don't--well, it can't be helped.218 ROBERT--But think of Ma! God, Andy, you can't go! You can't!219 ANDREW--[Fiercely.] I've got to go--to get away! I've got to, I tell you. I'd die here. I'd kill myself! Can't you understand what it'd mean to me, how I'd suffer? You don't know how I'd planned--for Ruth and me--the hopes I'd had about what the future'd be like. You can't blame me to go. You'd do the same yourself. I'd go crazy here, bein' reminded every second of the day how my life's been smashed, and what a fool I'd made of myself. I'd have nothing to hope or live for. I've got to get away and try and forget, if I can. I never could stay here--seeing her. And I'd hate the farm if I stayed, hate it for bringin' things back. I couldn't take interest in the work any more, work with no purpose in sight. Can't you see what a hell it'd be? You love her too, Rob. Put yourself in my place, and remember I haven't stopped loving her, and couldn't if I was to stay. Would that be fair to you or to her? Put yourself in my place. [He shakes his brother fiercely by the shoulder.] What'd you do then? Tell me the truth! You love her. What'd you do? In spite of all hell, what'd you do?220 ROBERT--[Chokingly.] I'd--I'd go, Andy! [He buries his face in his hands with a shuddering sob.] God!221 ANDREW--[Seeming to relax suddenly all over his body--in a low, steady voice.] Then you know why I got to go; and there's nothing more to be said.222 ROBERT--[In a frenzy of rebellion.] Why did this have to happen to us? It's damnable! [He looks about him wildly, as if his vengeance were seeking the responsible fate.]223 ANDREW--[Soothingly--again putting his hands on his brother's shoulder.] It's no use fussing any more, Rob. It's done. [Affectionately.] You'll forget anything I said to hurt when I was mad, won't you? I wanted to keep you out of it.224 ROBERT--Oh, Andy, it's me who ought to be asking your forgiveness for the suffering I've brought on you.225 ANDREW--[Forcing a smile.] I guess Ruth's got a right to have who she likes; you ain't to blame for that. She made a good choice--and God bless her for it!226 ROBERT--Andy! Oh, I wish I could tell you half I feel of how fine you are!227 ANDREW--[Interrupting him quickly.] Shut up! Let's go to bed. We've talked long enough, and I've got to be up long before sun-up. You, too, if you're going to drive us down.228 ROBERT--Yes. Yes.229 ANDREW--[Turning down the lamp.] And I've got to pack yet. [He yawns with utter weariness.] I'm as tired as if I'd been plowing twenty-four hours at a stretch. [Dully.] I feel--dead. [ROBERT covers his face again with his hands. ANDREW shakes his head as if to get rid of his thoughts, and continues with a poor attempt at cheery briskness.] I'm going to douse the light. Come on. [He slaps his brother on the back. ROBERT does not move. ANDREW bends over and blows out the lamp. His voice comes from the darkness.] Don't sit there mourning, Rob. It'll all come out in the wash. Come on and get some sleep. Everything 'll turn out all right in the end. [ROBERT can be heard stumbling to his feet, and the dark figures of the two brothers can be seen groping their way toward the doorway in the rear as230[The Curtain Falls] ACT TWO SCENE ONE SCENE--Same as Act One, Scene Two. Sitting room of the farm house about half past twelve in the afternoon of a hot, sun-baked day in mid-summer, three years later. All the windows are open, but no breeze stirs the soiled white curtains. A patched screen door is in the rear. Through it the yard can be seen, its small stretch of lawn divided by the dirt path leading to the door from the gate in the white picket fence which borders the road.1 The room has changed, not so much in its outward appearance as in its general atmosphere. Little significant details give evidence of carelessness, of inefficiency, of an industry gone to seed. The chairs appear shabby from lack of paint; the table cover is spotted and askew; holes show in the curtains; a child's doll, with one arm gone, lies under the table; a hoe stands in a corner; a man's coat is flung on the couch in the rear; the desk is cluttered up with odds and ends; a number of books are piled carelessly on the side-board. The noon enervation of the sultry, scorching day seems to have penetrated indoors, causing even inanimate objects to wear an aspect of despondent exhaustion.2 A place is set at the end of the table, left, for someone's dinner. Through the open door to the kitchen comes the clatter of dishes being washed, interrupted at intervals by a woman's irritated voice and the peevish whining of a child.3 At the rise of the curtain MRS. MAYO and MRS. ATKINS are discovered sitting facing each other, MRS. MAYO to the rear, MRS. ATKINS to the right of the table. MRS. MAYO'S face has lost all character, disintegrated, become a weak mask wearing a helpless, doleful expression of being constantly on the verge of comfortless tears. She speaks in an uncertain voice, without assertiveness, as if all power of willing had deserted her. MRS. ATKINS is in her wheel chair. She is a thin, pale-faced, unintelligent looking woman of about forty-eight, with hard, bright eyes. A victim of partial paralysis for many years, condemned to be pushed from day to day of her life in a wheel chair, she has developed the selfish, irritable nature of the chronic invalid. Both women are dressed in black. MRS. ATKINS knits nervously as she talks. A ball of unused yarn, with needles stuck through it, lies on the table before MRS. MAYO.4 MRS. ATKINS--[With a disapproving glance at the place set on the table.] Robert's late for his dinner again, as usual. I don't see why Ruth puts up with it, and I've told her so. Many's the time I've said to her "It's about time you put a stop to his nonsense. Does he suppose you're runnin' a hotel--with no one to help with things?" But she don't pay no attention. She's as bad as he is, a'most--thinks she knows better than an old, sick body like me.5 MRS. MAYO--[Dully.] Robbie's always late for things. He can't help it, Sarah.6 MRS. ATKINS--[With a snort.] Can't help it! How you do go on, Kate, findin' excuses for him! Anybody can help anything they've a mind to--as long as they've got health, and ain't rendered helpless like me, [She adds as a pious afterthought]--through the will of God.7 MRS. MAYO--Robbie can't.8 MRS. ATKINS--Can't! It do make me mad, Kate Mayo, to see folks that God gave all the use of their limbs to potterin' round and wastin' time doin' every thing the wrong way--and me powerless to help and at their mercy, you might say. And it ain't that I haven't pointed the right way to 'em. I've talked to Robert thousands of times and told him how things ought to be done. You know that, Kate Mayo. But d'you s'pose he takes any notice of what I say? Or Ruth, either--my own daughter? No, they think I'm a crazy, cranky old woman, half dead a'ready, and the sooner I'm in the grave and out o' their way the better it'd suit them.9 MRS. MAYO--You mustn't talk that way, Sarah. They're not as wicked as that. Add you've got years and years before you.10 MRS. ATKINS--You're like the rest, Kate. You don't know how near the end I am. Well, at least I can go to my eternal rest with a clear conscience. I've done all a body could do to avert ruin from this house. On their heads be it!11 MRS. MAYO--[With hopeless indifference.] Things might be worse. Robert never had any experience in farming. You can't expect him to learn in a day.12 MRS. ATKINS--[Snappily.] He's had three years to learn, and he's gettin' worse 'stead of better. He hasn't got it in him, that's what; and I do say it to you, Kate Mayo, even if he is your son. He doesn't want to learn. Everything I've told him he's that pig-headed he's gone and done the exact opposite. And now look where things are! They couldn't be worse, spite o' what you say. Not on'y your place but mine too is driftin' to rack and ruin, and I can't do nothin' to prevent, 'cause Ruth backs him up in his folly and shiftlessness.13 MRS. MAYO--[With a spark of assertiveness.] You can't say but Robbie works hard, Sarah.14 MRS. ATKINS--What good's workin' hard if it don't accomplish anythin', I'd like to know?15 MRS. MAYO--Robbie's had bad luck against him.16 MRS. ATKINS--Say what you've a mind to, Kate, the proof of the puddin's in the eatin'; and you can't deny that things have been goin' from bad to worse ever since your husband died two years back.17 MRS. MAYO--[Wiping tears from her eyes with her handkerchief.] It was God's will that he should be taken.18 MRS. ATKINS--[Triumphantly.] It was God's punishment on James Mayo for the blasphemin' and denyin' of God he done all his sinful life! [MRS. MAYO begins to weep softly.] There, Kate, I shouldn't be remindin' you, I know. He's at peace, poor man, and forgiven, let's pray.19 MR. MAYO--[Wiping her eyes--simply.] James was a good man.20 MRS. ATKINS--[Ignoring this remark.] What I was sayin' was that since Robert's been in charge things've been goin' down hill steady. You don't know how bad they are. Robert don't let on to you what's happinin'; and you'd never see it yourself if 'twas under your nose. But, thank God, Ruth still comes to me once in a while for advice when she's worried near out of her senses by his goin's-on. Do you know what she told me last night? But I forgot, she said not to tell you--still I think you've got a right to know, and it's my duty not to let such things go on behind your back.21 MRS. MAYO--[Wearily.] You can tell me if you want to.22 MRS. ATKINS--[Bending over toward her--in a low voice.] Ruth was almost crazy about it. Robert told her he'd have to mortgage the farm--said he didn't know how he'd pull through 'til harvest without it, and he can't get money any other way. [She straightens up--indignantly.] Now what do you think of your Robert?23 MRS. MAYO--[Resignedly.] If it has to be----24 MRS. ATKINS--You don't mean to say you're goin' to sign away your farm, Kate Mayo--after me warnin' you?25 MRS. MAYO--I'll do what Robbie says is needful.26 MRS. ATKINS--[Holding up her hands.] Well, of all the foolishness!--well, it's your farm, not mine, and I've nothin' more to say.27 MRS. MAYO--Maybe Robbie'll manage till Andy gets back and sees to things. It can't be long now.28 MRS. ATKINS--[With keen interest.] Ruth says Andy ought to turn up any day. When does Robert figger he'll get here?29 MRS. MAYO--He says he can't calculate exactly on account o' the Sunda being a sail boat. Last letter he got was from England, the day they were sailing for home. That was over a month ago, and Robbie thinks they're overdue now.30 MRS. ATKINS--We can give praise to God then that he'll be back in the nick o' time. I've got confidence in Andy and always did have, when it comes to farmin'; and he ought to be tired of travellin' and anxious to get home and settle down to work again.31 MRS. MAYO--Andy has been working. He's head officer on Dick's boat, he wrote Robbie. You know that.32 MRS. ATKINS--That foolin' on ships is all right for a spell, but he must be right sick of it by this. Andy's got to the age where it's time he took hold of things serious and got this farm workin' as it ought to be again.33 MRS. MAYO--[Musingly.] I wonder if he's changed much. He used to be so fine-looking and strong. [With a sigh.] Three years! It seems more like three hundred. [Her eyes filling--piteously.] Oh, if James could only have lived 'til he came back--and forgiven him!34 MRS. ATKINS--He never would have--not James Mayo! Didn't he keep his heart hardened against him till the last in spite of all you and Robert did to soften him?35 MRS. MAYO--[With a feeble flash of anger.] Don't you dare say that! [Brokenly.] Oh, I know deep down in his heart he forgave Andy, though he was too stubborn ever to own up to it. It was that brought on his death--breaking his heart just on account of his stubborn pride. [She wipes her eyes with her handkerchief and sobs.]36 MRS. ATKINS--[Piously.] It was the will of God. [The whining crying of the child sounds from the kitchen. MRS. ATKINS frowns irritably.] Drat that young one! Seems as if she cries all the time on purpose to set a body's nerves on edge.37 MRS. MAYO--[Wiping her eyes.] It's the heat upsets her. Mary doesn't feel any too well these days, poor little child!38 MRS. ATKINS--She gets it right from her Pa--bein' sickly all the time. You can't deny Robert was always ailin' as a child. [She sighs heavily.] It was a crazy mistake for them two to get married. I argyed against it at the time, but Ruth was so spelled with Robert's wild poetry notions she wouldn't listen to sense. Andy was the one would have been the match for her. I always thought so in those days, same as your James did; and I know she liked Andy. Then 'long comes Robert with his book-learnin' and high-fangled talk--and off she goes and marries him.39 MRS. MAYO--I've often thought since it might have been better the other way. But Ruth and Robbie seem happy enough together.40 MRS. ATKINS--At any rate it was God's work--and His will be done. [The two women sit in silence for a moment. RUTH enters from the kitchen, carrying in her arms her two year old daughter, MARY, a pretty but sickly and aenemic looking child with a tear-stained face. RUTH has aged appreciably. Her face has lost its youth and freshness. There is a trace in her expression of something hard and spiteful. She sits in the rocker in front of the table and sighs wearily. She wears a gingham dress with a soiled apron tied around her waist.]41 RUTH--Land sakes, if this isn't a scorcher! That kitchen's like a furnace. Phew! [She pushes the damp hair back from her forehead.]42 MRS. MAYO--Why didn't you call me to help with the dishes?43 RUTH--[Shortly.] No. The heat in there'd kill you.44 MARY--[Sees the doll under the table and struggles on her mother's lap.] Mary wants Dolly, Mama! Give Mary Dolly!45 RUTH--[Pulling her back.] It's time for your nap. You can't play with Dolly now.46 MARY--[Commencing to cry whiningly.] Mary wants Dolly!47 MRS. ATKINS--[Irritably.] Can't you keep that child still? Her racket's enough to split a body's ears. Put her down and let her play with the doll if it'll quiet her.48 RUTH--[Lifting MARY to the floor.] There! I hope you'll be satisfied and keep still. You're only to play for a minute, remember. Then you've got to take your nap. [MARY sits down on the floor before the table and plays with the doll in silence. RUTH glances at the place set on the table.] It's a wonder Rob wouldn't try to get to meals on time once in a while. Does he think I've nothing to do on a hot day like this but stand in that kitchen washing dishes?49 MRS. MAYO--[Dully.] Something must have gone wrong again.50 RUTH--[Wearily.] I s'pose so. Something's always going wrong these days, it looks like.51 MRS. ATKINS--[Snappily.] It wouldn't if you possessed a bit of spunk. The idea of you permittin' him to come in to meals at all hours--and you doin' the work! You ought to force him to have more consideration. I never heard of such a thin'. You mind my words and let him go to the kitchen and get his own once in a while, and see if he don't toe the mark. You're too easy goin', that's the trouble.52 RUTH--Do stop your nagging at me, Ma! I'm sick of hearing you. I'll do as I please about it; and thank you for not interfering. [She wipes her moist forehead--wearily.] Phew! It's too hot to argue. Let's talk of something pleasant. [Curiously.] Didn't I hear you speaking about Andy a while ago?53 MRS. MAYO--We were wondering when he'd get home.54 RUTH--[Brightening.] Rob says any day now he's liable to drop in and surprise us--him and the Captain. I wonder if he's changed much--what he'll be like. It'll certainly look natural to see him around the farm again.55 MRS. ATKINS--Let's hope the farm'll look more natural, too, when he's had a hand at it. The way thin's are now!56 RUTH--[Irritably.] Will you stop harping on that, Ma? We all know things aren't as they might be. What's the good of your complaining all the time?57 MRS. ATKINS--There, Kate Mayo! Ain't that just what I told you? I can't say a word of advice to my own daughter even, she's that stubborn and self-willed.58 RUTH--[Putting her hands over her ears--in exasperation.] For goodness sakes, Ma!59 MRS. MAYO--[Dully.] Never mind. Andy'll fix everything when he comes.60 RUTH--[Hopefully.] Oh, yes, I know he will. He always did know just the right thing ought to be done. [With weary vexation.] It's a shame for him to come home and have to start in with things in such a topsy-turvy.61 MRS. MAYO--Andy'll manage.62 RUTH--[Sighing.] I s'pose it isn't Rob's fault things go wrong with him.63 MRS. ATKINS--[Scornfully.] Hump! [She fans herself nervously.] Land o' Goshen, but it's bakin' in here! Let's go out in under the trees in back where there's a breath of fresh air. Come, Kate. [MRS. MAYO gets up obediently and starts to wheel the invalid's chair toward the screen door.] You better come too, Ruth. It'll do you good. Learn him a lesson and let him get his own dinner. Don't be such a fool.64 RUTH--[Going and holding the screen door open for them--listlessly.] He wouldn't mind. He tells me never to wait--but he wouldn't know where to find anything.65 MRS. ATKINS--Let him go hungry then--and serve him right.66 RUTH--He wouldn't mind that, either. He doesn't eat much. But I can't go anyway. I've got to put baby to bed.67 MRS. ATKINS--Let's go, Kate. I'm boilin' in here. [MRS. MAYO wheels her out and off left. RUTH comes back and sits down in her chair.]68 RUTH--[Mechanically.] Come and let me take off your shoes and stockings, Mary, that's a good girl. You've got to take your nap now. [The child continues to play as if she hadn't heard, absorbed in her doll. An eager expression comes over RUTH'S tired face. She glances toward the door furtively--then gets up and goes to the desk. Her movements indicate a guilty fear of discovery. She takes a letter from a pigeon hole and retreats swiftly to her chair with it. She opens the envelope and reads the letter with great interest, a flush of excitement coming to her cheeks. ROBERT walks up the path and opens the screen door quietly and comes into the room. He, too, has aged. His shoulders are stooped as if under too great a burden. His eyes are dull and lifeless, his face burned by the sun and unshaven for days. Streaks of sweat have smudged the layer of dust on his cheeks. His lips drawn down at the corners, give him a hopeless, resigned expression. The three years have accentuated the weakness of his mouth and chin. He is dressed in overalls, laced boots, and a flannel shirt open at the neck.]69 ROBERT--[Throwing his hat over on the sofa--with a great sigh of exhaustion.] Phew! The sun's hot today! [RUTH is startled. At first she makes an instinctive motion as if to hide the letter in her bosom. She immediately thinks better of this and sits with the letter in her hands looking at him with defiant eyes. He bends down and kisses her.]70 RUTH--[Feeling of her cheek--irritably.] Why don't you shave? You look awful.71 ROBERT--[Indifferently.] I forgot--and it's too much trouble this weather.72 MARY--[Throwing aside her doll, runs to him with a happy cry.] Dada! Dada!73 ROBERT--[Swinging her up above his head--lovingly.] And how's this little girl of mine this hot day, eh?74 MARY--[Screeching happily.] Dada! Dada!75 RUTH--[In annoyance.] Don't do that to her! You know it's time for her nap and you'll get her all waked up; then I'll be the one that'll have to sit beside her till she falls asleep.76 ROBERT--[Sitting down in the chair on the left of table and cuddling MARY on his lap.] You needn't bother. I'll put her to bed.77 RUTH--[Shortly.] You've got to get back to your work, I s'pose.78 ROBERT--[With a sigh.] Yes, I was forgetting. [He glances at the open letter on RUTH'S lap.] Reading Andy's letter again? I should think you'd know it by heart by this time.79 RUTH--[Coloring as if she'd been accused of something--defiantly.] I've got a right to read it, haven't I? He says it's meant for all of us.80 ROBERT--[With a trace of irritation.] Right? Don't be so silly. There's no question of right. I was only saying that you must know all that's in it after so many readings.81 RUTH--Well, I don't. [She puts the letter on the table and gets wearily to her feet.] I s'pose you'll be wanting your dinner now.82 ROBERT--[Listlessly.] I don't care. I'm not hungry. It's almost too hot to eat.83 RUTH--And here I been keeping it hot for you!84 ROBERT--[Irritably.] Oh, all right then. Bring it in and I'll try to eat.85 RUTH--I've got to get her to bed first. [She goes to lift MARY off his lap.] Come, dear. It's after time and you can hardly keep your eyes open now.86 MARY--[Crying.] No, no, I don't wanter sleep! [Appealing to her father.] Dada! No!87 RUTH--[Accusingly to ROBERT.] There! Now see what you've done! I told you not to----88 ROBERT--[Shortly.] Let her alone, then. She's all right where she is. She'll fall asleep on my lap in a minute if you'll stop bothering her.89 RUTH--[Hotly.] She'll not do any such thing! She's got to learn to mind me, that she has! [Shaking her finger at MARY.] You naughty child! Will you come with Mama when she tells you for your own good?90 MARY--[Clinging to her father.] No, Dada!91 RUTH--[Losing her temper.] A good spanking's what you need, my young lady--and you'll get one from me if you don't mind better, d'you hear? [MARY starts to whimper frightenedly.]92 ROBERT--[With sudden anger.] Leave her alone! How often have I told you not to threaten her with whipping? It's barbarous, and I won't have it. That's got to be understood. [Soothing the wailing MARY.] There! There, little girl! Baby mustn't cry. Dada won't like you if you do. Dada'll hold you and you must promise to go to sleep like a good little girl. Will you when Dada asks you?93 MARY--[Cuddling up to him.] Yes, Dada.94 RUTH--[Looking at them, her pale face set and drawn.] I won't be ordered by you! She's my child as much as yours. A fine one you are to be telling folks how to do things, you---- [She bites her lips. Husband and wife look into each other's eyes with something akin to hatred in their expressions; then RUTH turns away with a shrug of affected indifference.] All right, take care of her then, if you think it's so easy. You'll be whipping her yourself inside of a week. [She walks away into the kitchen.]95 ROBERT--[Smoothing MARY'S hair--tenderly.] We'll show Mama you're a good little girl, won't we?96 MARY--[Crooning drowsily.] Dada, Dada.97 ROBERT--Let's see: Does your mother take off your shoes and stockings before your nap?98 MARY--[Nodding with half-shut eyes.] Yes, Dada.99 ROBERT--[Taking off her shoes and stockings.] We'll show Mama we know how to do those things, won't we? There's one old shoe off--and there's the other old shoe--and here's one old stocking--and there's the other old stocking. There we are, all nice and cool and comfy. [He bends down and kisses her.] And now will you promise to go right to sleep if Dada takes you to bed? [MARY nods sleepily.] That's the good little girl. [He gathers her up in his arms carefully and carries her into the bedroom. His voice can be heard faintly as he lulls the child to sleep. RUTH comes out of the kitchen and gets the plate from the table. She hears the voice from the room and tiptoes to the door to look in. Then she starts for the kitchen but stands for a moment thinking, a look of ill-concealed jealousy on her face. At a noise from inside she hurriedly disappears into the kitchen. A moment later ROBERT reenters. He comes forward and picks up the shoes and stockings which he shoves carelessly under the table. Then, seeing no one about, he goes to the sideboard and selects a book. Coming back to his chair, he sits down and immediately becomes absorbed in reading. RUTH returns from the kitchen bringing his plate heaped with food, and a cup of tea. She sets those before him and sits down in her former place. ROBERT continues to read, oblivious to the food on the table.]100 RUTH--[After watching him irritably for a moment.] For heaven's sakes, put down that old book! Don't you see your dinner's getting cold?101 ROBERT--[Closing his book.] Excuse me, Ruth. I didn't notice. [He picks up his knife and fork and begins to eat gingerly, without appetite.]102 RUTH--I should think you might have some feeling for me, Rob, and not always be late for meals. If you think it's fun sweltering in that oven of a kitchen to keep things warm for you, you're mistaken.103 ROBERT--I'm sorry, Ruth, really I am.104 RUTH--That's what you always say; but you keep coming late just the same.105 ROBERT--I know; and I can't seem to help it. Something crops up every day to delay me. I mean to be here on time.106 RUTH--[With a sigh.] Mean-tos don't count.107 ROBERT--[With a conciliating smile.] Then punish me, Ruth. Let the food get cold and don't bother about me. Just set it to one side. I won't mind.108 RUTH--I'd have to wait just the same to wash up after you.109 ROBERT--But I can wash up.110 RUTH--A nice mess there'd be then!111 ROBERT--[With an attempt at lightness.] The food is lucky to be able to get cold this weather. [As RUTH doesn't answer or smile he opens his book and resumes his reading, forcing himself to take a mouthful of food every now and then. RUTH stares at him in annoyance.]112 RUTH--And besides, you've got your own work that's got to be done.113 ROBERT--[Absent-mindedly, without taking his eyes from the book.] Yes, of course.114 RUTH--[Spitefully.] Work you'll never get done by reading books all the time.115 ROBERT--[Shutting the book with a snap.] Why do you persist in nagging at me for getting pleasure out of reading? Is it because---- [He checks himself abruptly.]116 RUTH--[Coloring.] Because I'm too stupid to understand them, I s'pose you were going to say.117 ROBERT--[Shame-facedly.] No--no. [In exasperation.] Oh, Ruth, why do you want to pick quarrels like this? Why do you goad me into saying things I don't mean? Haven't I got my share of troubles trying to work this cursed farm without your adding to them? You know how hard I've tried to keep things going in spite of bad luck----118 RUTH--[Scornfully.] Bad luck!119 ROBERT--And my own very apparent unfitness for the job, I was going to add; but you can't deny there's been bad luck to it, too. You know how unsuited I am to the work and how I hate it; and I've managed to fight along somehow. Why don't you take things into consideration? Why can't we pull together? We used to. I know it's hard on you also. Then why can't we help each other instead of hindering? That's the only way we can make life bearable for each other.120 RUTH--[Sullenly.] I do the best I know how.121 ROBERT--[Gets up and puts his hand on her shoulder.] I know you do. But let's both of us try to do better. We can both improve. Say a word of encouragement once in a while when things go wrong, even if it is my fault. You know the odds I've been up against since Pa died. I'm not a farmer. I've never claimed to be one. But there's nothing else I can do under the circumstances, and I've got to pull things through somehow. With your help, I can do it. With you against me---- [He shrugs his shoulders. There is a pause. Then he bends down and kisses her hair--with an attempt at cheerfulness.] So you promise that; and I'll promise to be here when the clock strikes--and anything else you tell me to. Is it a bargain?122 RUTH--[Dully.] I s'pose so.123 ROBERT--The reason I was late today--it's more bad news, so be prepared.124 RUTH--[As if this was only what she expected.] Oh! [They are interrupted by the sound of a loud knock at the kitchen door.] There's someone at the kitchen door. [She hurries out. A moment later she reappears.] It's Ben. He says he wants to see you.125 ROBERT--[Frowning.] What's the trouble now, I wonder? [In a loud voice.] Come on in here, Ben. [Ben slouches in from the kitchen. He is a hulking, awkward young fellow with a heavy, stupid face and shifty, cunning eyes. He is dressed in overalls, boots, etc., and wears a broad-brimmed hat of coarse straw pushed back on his head.] Well, Ben, what's the matter?126 BEN--[Drawlingly.] The mowin' machine's bust.127 ROBERT--Why, that can't be. The man fixed it only last week.128 BEN--It's bust just the same.129 ROBERT--And can't you fix it?130 BEN--No. Don't know what's the matter with the goll-darned thing. 'Twon't work, anyhow.131 ROBERT--[Getting up and going for his hat.] Wait a minute and I'll go look it over. There can't be much the matter with it.132 BEN--[Impudently.] Don't make no diff'rence t'me whether there be or not. I'm quittin'.133 ROBERT--[Anxiously.] You're quitting? You don't mean you're throwing up your job here?134 BEN--That's what! My month's up today and I want what's owin' t'me.135 ROBERT--But why are you quitting now, Ben, when you know I've so much work on hand? I'll have a hard time getting another man at such short notice.136 BEN--That's for you to figger. I'm quittin'.137 ROBERT--But what's your reason? You haven't any complaint to make about the way you've been treated, have you?138 BEN--No. 'Tain't that. [Shaking his finger.] Look-a-here. I'm sick o' bein' made fun at, that's what; an' I got a job up to Timms' place; an' I'm quittin' here.139 ROBERT--Being made fun of? I don't understand you. Who's making fun of you?140 BEN--They all do. When I drive down with the milk in the mornin' they all laughs and jokes at me--that boy up to Harris' and the new feller up to Slocum's, and Bill Evans down to Meade's, and all the rest on 'em.141 ROBERT--That's a queer reason for leaving me flat. Won't they laugh at you just the same when you're working for Timms?142 BEN--They wouldn't dare to. Timms is the best farm hereabouts. They was laughin' at me for workin' for you, that's what! "How're things up to the Mayo place?" they hollers every mornin'. "What's Robert doin' now--pasturin' the cattle in the corn-lot? Is he seasonin' his hay with rain this year, same as last?" they shouts. "Or is he inventin' some 'lectrical milkin' engine to fool them dry cows o' his into givin' hard cider?" [Very much ruffled.] That's like they talks; and I ain't goin' to put up with it no longer. Everyone's always knowd me as a first-class hand hereabouts, and I ain't wantin' 'em to get no different notion. So I'm quittin' you. And I wants what's comin' to me.143 ROBERT--[Coldly.] Oh, if that's the case, you can go to the devil.144 BEN--This farm'd take me there quick 'nuff if I was fool 'nuff to stay.145 ROBERT--[Angrily.] None of your damned cheek! You'll get your money tomorrow when I get back from town--not before!146 BEN--[Turning to doorway to kitchen.] That suits me. [As he goes out he speaks back over his shoulder.] And see that I do get it, or there'll be trouble. [He disappears and the slamming of the kitchen door is heard.]147 ROBERT--[As RUTH comes from where she has been standing by the doorway and sits down dejectedly in her old place.] The stupid damn fool! And now what about the haying? That's an example of what I'm up against. No one can say I'm responsible for that.148 RUTH--Yes you are! He wouldn't dare act that way with anyone else. They do like they please with you, because you don't know how to treat 'em. They think you're easy--and you are!149 ROBERT--[Indignantly.] I suppose I ought to be a slave driver like the rest of the farmers--stand right beside them all day watching every move they make, and work them to their last ounce of strength? Well, I can't do it, and I won't do it!150 RUTH--It's better to do that than have to ask your Ma to sign a mortgage on the place.151 ROBERT--[Distractedly.] Oh, damn the place! [He walks to the window on left and stands looking out.]152 RUTH--[After a pause, with a glance at ANDREW'S letter on the table.] It's lucky Andy's coming back.153 ROBERT--[Coming back and sitting down.] Yes, Andy'll see the right thing to do in a jiffy. He has the knack of it; and he ought to be home any time now. The Sunda's overdue. Must have met with head winds all the way across.154 RUTH--[Anxiously.] You don't think--anything's happened to the boat?155 ROBERT--Trust Uncle Dick to bring her through all right! He's too good a sailor to be caught napping. Besies we'll never know the ship's here till Andy steps in the door. He'll want to surprise us. [With an affectionate smile.] I wonder if the old chump's changed much? He doesn't seem to from his letters, does he? Still the same practical hard-head. [Shaking his head.] But just the same I doubt if he'll want to settle down to a hum-drum farm life, after all he's been through.156 RUTH--[Resentfully.] Andy's not like you. He likes the farm.157 ROBERT--[Immersed in his own thoughts--enthusiastically.] Gad, the things he's seen and experienced! Think of the places he's been! Hong-Kong, Yokohoma, Batavia, Singapore, Bangkok, Rangoon, Bombay--all the marvelous East! And Honolulu, Sydney, Buenos Aires! All the wonderful far places I used to dream about! God, how I envy him! What a trip! [He springs to his feet and instinctively goes to the window and stares out at the horizon.]158 RUTH--[Bitterly.] I s'pose you're sorry now you didn't go?159 ROBERT--[Too occupied with his own thoughts to hear her--vindictively.] Oh, those cursed hills out there that I used to think promised me so much! How I've grown to hate the sight of them! They're like the walls of a narrow prison yard shutting me in from all the freedom and wonder of life! [He turns back to the room with a gesture of loathing.] Sometimes I think if it wasn't for you, Ruth, and--[his voice softening]--little Mary, I'd chuck everything up and walk down the road with just one desire in my heart--to put the whole rim of the world between me and those hills, and be able to breathe freely once more! [He sinks down into his chair and smiles with bitter self-scorn.] There I go dreaming again--my old fool dreams.160 RUTH--[In a low, repressed voice--her eyes smoldering.] You're not the only one!161 ROBERT--[Buried in his own thoughts--bitterly.] And Andy, who's had the chance--what has he got out of it? His letters read like the diary of a--of a farmer! "We're in Singapore now. It's a dirty hole of a place and hotter than hell. Two of the crew are down with fever and we're short-handed on the work. I'll be damn glad when we sail again, although tacking back and forth in these blistering seas is a rotten job too!" [Scornfully.] That's about the way he summed up his impressions of the East. Every port they touched at he found the same silly fault with. God! The only place he appeared to like was Buenos Aires--and that only because he saw the business opportunities in a booming country like Argentine.162 RUTH--[Her repressed voice trembling.] You needn't make fun of Andy.163 ROBERT--Perhaps I am too hard on him; but when I think--but what's the use? You know I wasn't making fun of Andy personally. No one loves him better than I do, the old chump! But his attitude toward things is--is rank, in my estimation.164 RUTH--[Her eyes flashing--bursting into uncontrollable rage.] You was too making fun of him! And I ain't going to stand for it! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! A fine one you be! [ROBERT stares at her in amazement. She continues furiously.] A fine one to talk about anyone else--after the way you've ruined everything with your lazy loafing!--and the stupid way you do things!165 ROBERT--[Angrily.] Stop that kind of talk, do you hear?166 RUTH--You findin' fault--with your own brother who's ten times the man you ever was or ever will be--a thing like you to be talking. You're jealous, that's what! Jealous because he's made a man of himself, while you're nothing but a--but a---- [She stutters incoherently, overcome by rage.]167 ROBERT--Ruth! Ruth! Don't you dare----! You'll be sorry for talking like that.168 RUTH--I won't! I won't never be sorry! I'm only saying what I've been thinking for years.169 ROBERT--[Aghast.] Ruth! You can't mean that!170 RUTH--What do you think--living with a man like you--having to suffer all the time because you've never been man enough to work and do things like other people. But no! You never own up to that. You think you're so much better than other folks, with your college education, where you never learned a thing, and always reading your stupid books instead of working. I s'pose you think I ought to be proud to be your wife--a poor, ignorant thing like me! [Fiercely.] But I'm not. I hate it! I hate the sight of you! Oh, if I'd only known! If I hadn't been such a fool to listen to your cheap, silly, poetry talk that you learned out of books! If I could have seen how you were in your true self--like you are now--I'd have killed myself before I'd have married you! I was sorry for it before we'd been together a month. I knew what you were really like--when it was too late.171 ROBERT--[His voice raised loudly.] And now--I'm finding out what you're really like--what a--a creature I've been living with. [With a harsh laugh.] God! It wasn't that I haven't guessed how mean and small you are--but I've kept on telling myself that I must be wrong--like a fool!--like a damned fool!172 RUTH--You were saying you'd go out on the road if it wasn't for me. Well, you can go, and the sooner the better! I don't care! I'll be glad to get rid of you! The farm'll be better off too. There's been a curse on it ever since you took hold. So go! Go and be a tramp like you've always wanted. It's all you're good for. I can get along without you, don't you worry. I'll get some peace. [Exulting fiercely.] And Andy's coming back, don't forget that! He'll attend to things like they should be. He'll show what a man can do! I don't need you. Andy's coming!173 ROBERT--[They are both standing. ROBERT grabs her by the shoulders and glares into her eyes.] What do you mean? [He shakes her violently.] What are you thinking of? What's in your evil mind, you--you---- [His voice is a harsh shout.]174 RUTH--[In a defiant scream.] Yes I do mean it! I'd say it if you was to kill me! I do love Andy. I do! I do! I always loved him. [Exultantly.] And he loves me! He loves me! I know he does. He always did! And you know he did, too! So go! Go if you want to!175 ROBERT--[Throwing her away from him. She staggers back against the table--thickly.] You--you slut! [He stands glaring at her as she leans back, supporting herself by the table, gasping for breath. A loud frightened whimper sounds from the awakened child in the bedroom. It continues. The man and woman stand looking at one another in horror, the extent of their terrible quarrel suddenly brought home to them. A pause. The noise of a horse and carriage comes from the road before the house. The two, suddenly struck by the same premonition, listen to it breathlessly, as to a sound heard in a dream. It stops. They hear ANDY'S voice from the road shouting a long hail--"Ahoy there!"]176 RUTH--[With a strangled cry of joy.] Andy! Andy! [She rushes and grabs the knob of the screen door, about to fling it open.]177 ROBERT--[In a voice of command that forces obedience.] Stop! [He goes to the door and gently pushes the trembling RUTH away from it. The child's crying rises to a louder pitch.] I'll meet Andy. You better go in to Mary, Ruth. [She looks at him defiantly for a moment, but there is something in his eyes that makes her turn and walk slowly into the bedroom.]178 ANDY'S VOICE--[In a louder shout.] Ahoy there, Rob!179 ROBERT--[In an answering shout of forced cheeriness.] Hello, Andy! [He opens the door and walks out as180[The Curtain Falls] ACT TWO SCENE TWO SCENE--The top of a hill on the farm. It is about eleven o'clock the next morning. The day is hot and cloudless. In the distance the sea can be seen.1 The top of the hill slopes downward slightly toward the left. A big boulder stands in the center toward the rear. Further right, a large oak tree. The faint trace of a path leading upward to it from the left foreground can be detected through the bleached, sun-scorched grass.2 ROBERT is discovered sitting on the boulder, his chin resting on his hands, staring out toward the horizon seaward. His face is pale and haggard, his expression one of utter despondency. MARY is sitting on the grass near him in the shade, playing with her doll, singing happily to herself. Presently she casts a curious glance at her father, and, propping her doll up against the tree, comes over and clambers to his side.3 MARY--[Pulling at his hand--solicitously.] Is Dada sick?4 ROBERT--[Looking at her with a forced smile.] No, dear. Why?5 MARY--Then why don't he play with Mary?6 ROBERT--[Gently.] No, dear, not today. Dada doesn't feel like playing today.7 MARY--[Protestingly.] Yes, please, Dada!8 ROBERT--No, dear. Dada does feel sick--a little. He's got a bad headache.9 MARY--Let Mary see. [He bends his head. She pats his hair.] Bad head.10 ROBERT--[Kissing her--with a smile.] There! It's better now, dear, thank you. [She cuddles up close against him. There is a pause during which each of them looks out seaward.]11 MARY--[Pointing toward the sea.] Is that all wa-wa, Dada?12 ROBERT--Yes, dear.13 MARY--[Amazed by the magnitude of this conception.] Oh-oh! [She points to the horizon.] And it all stops there, over farver?14 ROBERT--No, it doesn't stop. That line you see is called the horizon. It's where the sea and sky meet. Just beyond that is where the good fairies live. [Checking himself--with a harsh laugh.] But you mustn't ever believe in fairies. It's bad luck. And besides, there aren't any good fairies. [MARY looks up into his face with a puzzled expression.]15 MARY--Then if fairies don't live there, what lives there?16 ROBERT--[Bitterly.] God knows! Mocking devils, I've found them. [MARY frowns in puzzlement, turning this over in her mind. There is a pause. Finally ROBERT turns to her tenderly.] Would you miss Dada very much if he went away?17 MARY--Far--far away?18 ROBERT--Yes. Far, far away.19 MARY--And Mary wouldn't see him, never?20 ROBERT--No; but Mary'd forget him very soon, I'm sure.21 MARY--[Tearfully.] No! No! Dada mustn't go 'way. No, Dada, no!22 ROBERT--Don't you like Uncle Andy--the man that came yesterday--not the old man with the white moustache--the other?23 MARY--But Dada mustn't go 'way. Mary loves Dada.24 ROBERT--[With fierce determination.] He won't go away, baby. He was only joking. He couldn't leave his little Mary. [He presses the child in his arms.]25 MARY--[With an exclamation of pain.] Oh! Dada hurts!26 ROBERT--I'm sorry, little girl. [He lifts her down to the grass.] Go play with Dolly, that's a good girl; and be careful to keep in the shade. [She reluctantly leaves him and takes up her doll again. A moment later she points down the hill to the left.]27 MARY--Here comes mans, Dada.28 ROBERT--[Looking that way.] It's your Uncle Andy.29 MARY--Will he play wiv me, Dada?30 ROBERT--Not now, dear. You mustn't bother him. After a while he will, maybe. [A moment later ANDREW comes up from the left, whistling cheerfully. He has changed but little in appearance, except for the fact that his face has been deeply bronzed by his years in the tropics; but there is a decided change in his manner. The old easy-going good-nature seems to have been partly lost in a breezy, business-like briskness of voice and gesture. There is an authoritative note in his speech as though he were accustomed to give orders and have them obeyed as a matter of course. He is dressed in the simple blue uniform and cap of a merchant ship's officer.]31 ANDREW--Here you are, eh?32 ROBERT--Hello, Andy.33 ANDREW--[Going over to MARY.] And who's this young lady I find you all alone with, eh? Who's this pretty young lady? [He tickles the laughing, squirming MARY, then lifts her up at arm's length over his head.] Upsy--daisy! [He sets her down on the ground again.] And there you are! [He walks over and sits down on the boulder beside ROBERT who moves to one side to make room for him.] RUTH told me I'd probably find you up top-side here; but I'd have guessed it, anyway. [He digs his brother in the ribs affectionately.] Still up to your old tricks, you old beggar! I can remember how you used to come up here to mope and dream in the old days.34 ROBERT--[With a smile.] I come up here now because it's the coolest place on the farm. I've given up dreaming.35 ANDREW--[Grinning.] I don't believe it. You can't have changed that much.36 ROBERT--[Wearily.] One gets tired of dreaming--when they never come true.37 ANDREW--[Scrutinizing his brother's face.] You've changed in looks all right. You look all done up, as if you'd been working too hard. Better let up on yourself for a while.38 ROBERT--Oh, I'm all right!39 ANDREW--Take a fool's advice and go it easy. You remember--your old trouble. You wouldn't want that coming back on you, eh? It pays to keep top-notch in your case.40 ROBERT--[Betraying annoyance.] Oh, that's all a thing of the past, Andy. Forget it!41 ANDREW--Well--a word to the wise does no harm? Don't be touchy about it. [Slapping his brother on the back.] You know I mean well, old man, even if I do put my foot in it.42 ROBERT--Of course, Andy. I'm not touchy about it. I don't want you to worry about dead things, that's all. I've a headache today, and I expect I do look done up.43 ANDREW--Mum's the word, then! [After a pause--with boyish enthusiasm.] Say, it sure brings back old times to be up here with you having a chin all by our lonesomes again. I feel great being back home.44 ROBERT--It's great for us to have you back.45 ANDREW--[After a pause--meaningly.] I've been looking over the old place with Ruth. Things don't seem to be----46 ROBERT--[His face flushing--interrupts his brother shortly.] Never mind the damn farm! There's nothing about it we don't both know by heart. Let's talk about something interesting. This is the first chance I've had to have a word with you alone. To the devil with the farm for the present. They think of nothing else at home. Tell me about your trip. That's what I've been anxious to hear about.47 ANDREW--[With a quick glance of concern at ROBERT.] I suppose you do get an overdose of the farm at home. [Indignantly.] Say, I never realized that Ruth's mother was such an old rip 'till she talked to me this morning. [With a grin.] Phew! I pity you, Rob, when she gets on her ear!48 ROBERT--She is--difficult sometimes; but one must make allowances. [Again changing the subject abruptly.] But this isn't telling me about the trip.49 ANDREW--Why, I thought I told you everything in my letters.50 ROBERT--[Smiling.] Your letters were--sketchy, to say the least.51 ANDREW--Oh, I know I'm no author. You needn't be afraid of hurting my feelings. I'd rather go through a typhoon again than write a letter.52 ROBERT--[With eager interest.] Then you were through a typhoon?53 ANDREW--Yes--in the China sea. Had to run before it under bare poles for two days. I thought we were bound down for Davy Jones, sure. Never dreamed waves could get so big or the wind blow so hard. If it hadn't been for Uncle Dick being such a good skipper we'd have gone to the sharks, all of us. As it was we came out minus a main top-mast and had to beat back to Hong-Kong for repairs. But I must have written you all this.54 ROBERT--You never mentioned it.55 ANDREW--Well, there was so much dirty work getting things ship-shape again I must have forgotten about it.56 ROBERT--[Looking at ANDREW--marvelling.] Forget a typhoon? [With a trace of scorn.] You're a strange combination, Andy. And is what you've told me all you remember about it?57 ANDREW--Oh, I could give you your bellyful of details if I wanted to turn loose on you; but they're not the kind of things to fit in with your pretty notions of life on the ocean wave, I'll give you that straight.58 ROBERT--[Earnestly.] Tell me. I'd like to hear them--honestly!59 ANDREW--What's the use? They'd make a man want to live in the middle of America without even a river in a hundred miles of him so he'd feel safe. It was rotten, that's what it was! Talk about work! I was wishin' the ship'd sink and give me a rest, I was so dog tired toward the finish. We didn't get a warm thing to eat for nearly two weeks. There was enough China Sea in the galley to float the stove, and the fo' c's'tle was flooded, too. And you couldn't sleep a wink. No place on the darned old tub stayed still long enough for you to lie on it. And every one was soaked to the skin all the time, with green seas boiling over the deck keeping you busy jumping for the rat-lines to keep from being washed over. Oh, it was all-wool-and-a-yard-wide-Hell, I'll tell you. You ought to have been there. I remember thinking about you at the worst of it when you couldn't force a breath out against the wind, and saying to myself: 'This'd cure Rob of them ideas of his about the beautiful sea, if he could see it.' And it would have too, you bet! [He nods emphatically.]60 ROBERT--And you don't see any romance in that?61 ANDREW--Romance be blowed! It was hell! [As an afterthought.] Oh, I was forgetting! One of the men was washed overboard--a Norwegian--Ollie we called him. [With a grin of sarcasm.] I suppose that's romance, eh? Well, it might be for a fish, but not for me, old man!62 ROBERT [Dryly.] The sea doesn't seem to have impressed you very favorably.63 ANDREW--I should say it didn't! It's a dog's life. You work like the devil and put up with all kinds of hardships--for what? For a rotten wage you'd be ashamed to take on shore.64 ROBERT--Then you're not going to--follow it up?65 ANDREW--Not me! I'm through! I'll never set foot on a ship again if I can help it--except to carry me some place I can't get to by train. No. I've had enough. Dry land is the only place for me.66 ROBERT--But you studied to become an officer!67 ANDREW--Had to do something or I'd gone mad. The days were like years. Nothing to look at but sea and sky. No place to go. A regular prison. [He laughs.] And as for the East you used to rave about--well, you ought to see it, and smell it! And the Chinks and Japs and Hindus and the rest of them--you can have them! One walk down one of their filthy narrow streets with the tropic sun beating on it would sicken you for life with the "wonder and mystery" you used to dream of. I can say one thing for it though--it certainly has the stink market cornered.68 ROBERT--[Shrinking from his brother with a glance of aversion.] So all you found in the East was a stench?69 ANDREW--A stench! Ten thousand of them! That and the damned fever! You can have the tropics, old man. I never want to see them again. At that, there's lots of money to be made down there--for a white man. The natives are too lazy to work, that's the only trouble.70 ROBERT--But you did like some of the places, judging from your letters--Sydney, Buenos Aires----71 ANDREW--Yes, Sydney's a good town. [Enthusiastically.] But Buenos Aires--there's the place for you. Argentine's a country where a fellow has a chance to make good. You're right I liked it. And I'll tell you, Rob, that's right where I'm going just as soon as I've seen you folks a while and can get a ship. I don't intend to pay for my passage now I can get a berth as second officer, and I'll jump the ship when I get there. I'll need every cent of the wages Uncle's paid me to get a start at something in B. A.72 ROBERT--[Staring at his brother--slowly.] So you're not going to stay on the farm?73 ANDREW--Why sure not! Did you think I was? There wouldn't be any sense. One of us is enough to run this little place.74 ROBERT--I suppose it does seem small to you now.75 ANDREW--[Not noticing the sarcasm in ROBERT'S tone.] You've no idea, Rob, what a splendid place Argentine is. I went around Buenos Aires quite a lot and got to know people--English speaking people, of course. The town is full of them. It's foreign capital that's developed the country, you know. I had a letter from a marine insurance chap that I'd made friends with in Hong-Kong to his brother, who's in the grain business in Buenos Aires. He took quite a fancy to me, and what's more important, he offered me a job if I'd come back there. I'd have taken it on the spot, only I couldn't leave Uncle Dick in the lurch, and I'd promised you folks to come home. But I'm going back there very soon, you bet, and then you watch me get on! [He slaps ROBERT on the back.] But don't you think it's a big chance, Rob?76 ROBERT--It's fine--for you, Andy.77 ANDREW--We call this a farm--but you ought to hear about the farms down there--ten square miles where we've got an acre