MR. R. Well, there is a month or two yet before I shall be obliged to ask you to give up your husband’s papers. Meanwhile, you can go on to Cairo, and come back; go along the Red and Yellow, and leave your cargo. You needn’t take on any more. I’ll see you again when you come down to New Orleans; and then, if your husband has not returned, we must close up our accounts. That is what the rest of the owners say, and I agree. MARY. Oh, Mr. Romberg! is there nothing I can do to keep the boat? Can I not get a license? Did a woman never have a captain’s license? MR. R. I never heard of one. And I don’t think there ever was one. It would be absurd! But I must bid you good-morning. MARY. Good-morning, sir. (_Exit_ MR. ROMBERG, R.) Indeed! what kind of a woman does he take me to be! Telling _me_ about marrying another man so as to have a captain! I will show him that I can be master of my own boat. _I_ go into a lager-beer saloon! As Mary Gandy I would not have done it; and as Mary Miller I certainly shall not. _I_ give up the boat! My William’s boat? Never! Unless they put me on shore by force. _Why_ cannot _I_ get a license? _I’ll try!_ and then, if worst comes to worst, I must make my way somehow back home again. If I could only hear from mother! (_Sits down at the table—arranges papers._) (_Enter_ PHUS, R.) PHUS. O, Lor’! Mis’ Miller! Here’s suthin’ I forgits. I met de pos’-man out here, an’ he holl’d at me (_She does not look up._)—“Har, you nig!” I looks round, and sez: “Whar? whar? I dun’ see no nig.” He laf, an’ sez, “You know who dat is?” “Whar?” sez I. “On dis let’,” sez he. “No,” sez I; “who is it?” “It’s Mrs. Mary Miller,” sez he. “Lor’,” sez I, “dat’s my cap’n’s mis’; gib it yere.” “Well, fotch it, then,” sez he, “an’ be darn quick ’bout it.” “I will,” sez I. (MARY _looks up_.) MARY. A letter? Oh, give it to me! How long have you had it? PHUS. Jes dis minit, mis’. MARY (_tearing the envelope_). From home, and written by dear brother John. Dear little fellow! (_Reads._) DEAR MARY,—