ANNA--[Touched but a bit embarrassed.] Don't bawl about it. There ain't nothing to forgive, anyway. It ain't your fault, and it ain't mine, and it ain't his neither. We're all poor nuts, and things happen, and we yust get mixed in wrong, that's all. CHRIS--[Eagerly.] You say right tang, Anna, py golly! It ain't nobody's fault! [Shaking his fist.] It's dat ole davil, sea! ANNA--[With an exasperated laugh.] Gee, won't you ever can that stuff? [CHRIS relapses into injured silence. After a pause ANNA continues curiously.] You said a minute ago you'd fixed something up--about me. What was it? CHRIS--[After a hesitating pause.] Ay'm shipping avay on sea again, Anna. ANNA--[Astounded.] You're--what? CHRIS--Ay sign on steamer sail to-morrow. Ay gat my ole yob--bo'sun. [ANNA stares at him. As he goes on, a bitter smile comes over her face.] Ay tank dat's best tang for you. Ay only bring you bad luck, Ay tank. Ay make your mo'der's life sorry. Ay don't vant make yours dat way, but Ay do yust same. Dat ole davil, sea, she make me Yonah man ain't no good for nobody. And Ay tank now it ain't no use fight with sea. No man dat live going to beat her, py yingo! ANNA--[With a laugh of helpless bitterness.] So that's how you've fixed me, is it? CHRIS--Yes, Ay tank if dat ole davil gat me back she leave you alone den. ANNA--[Bitterly.] But, for Gawd's sake, don't you see, you're doing the same thing you've always done? Don't you see--? [But she sees the look of obsessed stubbornness on her father's face and gives it up helplessly.] But what's the use of talking. You ain't right, that's what. I'll never blame you for nothing no more. But how you could figure out that was fixing me--! CHRIS--Dat ain't all. Ay gat dem fallars in steam-ship office to pay you all money coming to me every month vhile Ay'm avay. ANNA--[With a hard laugh.] Thanks. But I guess I won't be hard up for no small change. CHRIS--[Hurt--humbly.] It ain't much, Ay know, but it's plenty for keep you so you never gat go. ANNA--[Shortly.] Shut up, will you? We'll talk about it later, see? CHRIS--[After a pause--ingratiatingly.] You like Ay go ashore look for dat Irish fallar, Anna? ANNA--[Angrily.] Not much! Think I want to drag him back? CHRIS--[After a pause--uncomfortably.] Py golly, dat booze don't go veil. Give me fever, Ay tank, Ay feel hot like hell. [He takes off his coat and lets it drop on the floor. There is a loud thud.] ANNA--[With a start.] What you got in your pocket, for Pete's sake--a ton of lead? [She reaches down, takes the coat and pulls out a revolver--looks from it to him in amazement.] A gun? What were you doing with this? CHRIS--[Sheepishly.] Ay forgat. Ain't nutting. Ain't loaded, anyvay. ANNA--[Breaking it open to make sure--then closing it again--looking at him suspiciously.] That ain't telling me why you got it? CHRIS--[Sheepishly.] Ay'm ole fool. Ay gat it vhen Ay go ashore first. Ay tank den it's all fault of dat Irish fallar.