MRS. MAYO. Andy _has_ been working. He’s head officer on Dick’s boat, he wrote Robbie. You know that. MRS. ATKINS. That foolin’ on ships is all right for a spell, but he must be right sick of it by this. 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! 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? 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_). 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. MRS. MAYO. (_wiping her eyes_) It’s the heat upsets her. Mary doesn’t feel any too well these days, poor little child! 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. MRS. MAYO. I’ve often thought since it might have been better the other way. But Ruth and Robbie seem happy enough together. 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 ænemic 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_). 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_). MRS. MAYO. Why didn’t you call me to help with the dishes? RUTH. (_shortly_) No. The heat in there’d kill you. MARY. (_sees the doll under the table and struggles on her mother’s lap_) Dolly, Mama! Dolly! RUTH. (_pulling her back_) It’s time for your nap. You can’t play with Dolly now. MARY. (_commencing to cry whiningly_) Dolly!