ROBERT. (_looking that way_) It’s your Uncle Andy. (_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_). ANDREW. Here you are, eh? ROBERT. Hello, Andy. 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. ROBERT. (_with a smile_) I come up here now because it’s the coolest place on the farm. I’ve given up dreaming. ANDREW. (_grinning_) I don’t believe it. You can’t have changed that much. (_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. ROBERT. It’s great for us to have you back. ANDREW. (_after a pause--meaningly_) I’ve been looking over the old place with Ruth. Things don’t seem to be---- ROBERT. (_his face flushing--interrupts his brother shortly_) Never mind the damn farm! Let’s talk about something interesting. This is the first chance I’ve had to have a word with you alone. Tell me about your trip. ANDREW. Why, I thought I told you everything in my letters. ROBERT. (_smiling_) Your letters were--sketchy, to say the least. 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. ROBERT. (_with eager interest_) Then you were through a typhoon? 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. ROBERT. You never mentioned it. ANDREW. Well, there was so much dirty work getting things ship-shape again I must have forgotten about it.