_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. 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. MRS. MAYO. (_dully_) Robbie’s always late for things. He can’t help it, Sarah. 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. MRS. MAYO. Robbie can’t. 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’ everything 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. MRS. MAYO. You mustn’t talk that way, Sarah. They’re not as wicked as that. And you’ve got years and years before you. 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! 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.