GRANDMOTHER: Yes. We've been neighbours ever since the Fejevarys came here from Hungary after 1848. He was a count at home--and he's a man of learning. But he was a refugee because he fought for freedom in his country. Nothing Silas could do for him was too good. Silas sets great store by learning--and freedom. SMITH: (_thinking of his own project, looking off toward the hill--the hill is not seen from the front_) I suppose then Mr Fejevary has great influence with your son? GRANDMOTHER: More 'an anybody. Silas thinks 'twas a great thing for our family to have a family like theirs next place to. Well--so 'twas, for we've had no time for the things their family was brought up on. Old Mrs Fejevary (_with her shrewd smile_)--she weren't stuck up--but she did have an awful ladylike way of feeding the chickens. Silas thinks--oh, my son has all kinds of notions--though a harder worker never found his bed at night. SMITH: And Mr Fejevary--is he a veteran too? GRANDMOTHER: (_dryly_) You don't seem to know these parts well--for one that's all stirred up about the development of the town. Yes--Felix Fejevary and Silas Morton went off together, down that road (_motioning with her hand, right_)--when them of their age was wanted. Fejevary came back with one arm less than he went with. Silas brought home everything he took--and something he didn't. Rheumatiz. So now they set more store by each other 'an ever. Seems nothing draws men together like killing other men. (_a boy's voice teasingly imitating a cat_) Madeline, make Ira let that cat be. (_a whoop from the girl--a boy's whoop_) (_looking_) There they go, off for the creek. If they set in it--(_seems about to call after them, gives this up_) Well, they're not the first. (_rather dreams over this_) SMITH: You must feel as if you pretty near owned this country. GRANDMOTHER: We worked. A country don't make itself. When the sun was up we were up, and when the sun went down we didn't. (_as if this renews the self of those days_) Here--let me set out something for you to eat. (_gets up with difficulty_) SMITH: Oh, no, please--never mind. I had something in town before I came out. GRANDMOTHER: Dunno as that's any reason you shouldn't have something here. (_She goes off, right; he stands at the door, looking toward the hill until she returns with a glass of milk, a plate of cookies._) SMITH: Well, this looks good. GRANDMOTHER: I've fed a lot of folks--take it by and large. I didn't care how many I had to feed in the daytime--what's ten or fifteen more when you're up and around. But to get up--after sixteen hours on your feet--_I_ was willin', but my bones complained some. SMITH: But did you--keep a tavern?