Thomas (_goes to another desk and takes up book_): I don't mind fractions, but here's this awful geography lesson. Teacher said if I didn't have it this morning I'd have to stay in all the noon hour and learn it. What good will it ever do me, I'd like to know, to get the names of all these islands in my head? I don't mean to be a sailor, and if I should be I guess I'd learn the names of places fast enough when I came to them. John (_puts his hand on_ Thomas' _shoulder_): Say, Tom, let's run away where they can't make us go to school. We know enough now. Thomas: So we do; we can write our names, and say the multiplication table. What more need a fellow know? John: We can work for the farmers until we get a little money and then---- Helen (_enters at right and comes down_): O boys, aren't you ashamed? I overheard your bad plans; how can you talk that way about going to school instead of being glad that you have the chance to go? John: _Glad_ of the chance? Ho, ho, that's funny. Thomas: I should say so, as if anybody was ever _glad_ to go to school. (_Both boys laugh heartily._ Helen _stands silently gazing at them_.) John: Why, that beats everything! "Glad to go to school!" I don't believe there ever was such a thing as a fellow being _glad_ to go to school. Helen: I'm sure I'm glad. Thomas (_snapping his fingers scornfully and turning away_): Yes, but you're a _girl_. I suppose it's all right for a _girl_ to be glad. John: I said I didn't believe there was such a thing as a _fellow_ being glad to go to school. You're not a fellow, are you? (_Both boys laugh and cross over._) Thomas: If I was a girl I dare say I'd like to go to school. Of course, that's better than rocking the baby and washing the dishes--but _fellows_! I tell you they have better ways to pass their time, eh! Jackie? (_Pokes him in the ribs. Both laugh._) Helen: Well, it's a lucky thing for the world that all boys aren't like you, else where would our great men come from if all the boys were as willing to remain great know-nothings as you two are? John: O, who wants to be great? Great men have to work, and to sit up nights and worry about things. I'd rather be a plough-boy than a great man any time. Thomas: So would I! Nothing to worry about, just follow the horse and keep the plough straight. Helen: Well, there's one thing of which both of you may be pretty sure. Both: What's that? Helen: You are in a fair way to get what you want. You will both be plough-boys until you are too old to hold the plough, and then you can go to the poorhouse, where the "great men" whom you despise will make laws to take care of you. Thomas: That's just it; now you are coming around to John's statement. We will not have to worry; others will do that, you see. Helen (_impatiently_): Boys, why don't you brace up and study as you ought to? What's the use of all this foolish talk? You know you don't mean a word of it! (_Goes up stage._) John: We do mean it, too, don't we, Tom?