_Rob_ (C.). That's right, mother. Keep up a brave heart. We shall weather the storm. (_Aside._) Oh! who will care for these dear ones when I am gone? (_Crosses to_ L.) _Gaylie_ (_outside_). Ha, ha, ha, old Jim! you know me, don't you? keep away! Open, locks, whoever knocks. I'm home, I'm home! (_Runs in door in flat._) Home, home again! You dear, good Mother Trueworth! (_Runs into_ MRS. TRUEWORTH'S _arms_, C.; MATTIE R., ROB L.) _Mrs. T._ Dear child, welcome, a thousand times welcome! _Gaylie._ I knew you'd be glad to see me; and Mattie (_runs to her_ R., _and embraces her_), you dear darling, how rosy you look! _Mattie._ Gaylie, this is a surprise. I'm real glad to see you. _Gaylie._ Of course you are; isn't it jolly? But where's Rob? _Rob_ (_advancing_). Here he is; patiently waiting to be recognized. _Gaylie_ (_runs to him, and catches his hands, shaking them heartily_). Oh, you dear old fellow! How glad I am to see you! Why don't you kiss me? _Rob_ (_kissing her_). That was certainly an oversight. So you are back again, the same dear, good Gaylie. Two years' schooling has made little alteration in you. _Gaylie_ (C. _with_ ROB; MRS. TRUEWORTH _sits in rocking-chair_; MATTIE _stands_ L., _with arms akimbo_). Yes, it has. I'm spoiled, completely spoiled. Got a beau yet, Mattie? _Mattie._ No, indeed! I hope not. _Gaylie._ Ha, ha, ha! what a girl! sneers at her destiny. She'll get over it. Yes, I'm completely spoiled. Went away a _cheild_ of nature, fresh, buoyant, and all that sort of thing: I've come back a cultivated woman. Ahem! (_Struts across stage: comes back._) Oh, my poor little head! it's had Latin squeezed into it, Greek pounded into it, and French, German, Spanish, and Italian filtered through it. Oh, it's a learned head! Then my fingers have been calloused into familiarity with all the ugly notes in the musical scale; my feet twisted and turned about all the figures a French dancing-master could invent; and my poor little figure tortured with elegant movements and graceful poses. Oh, bless you! I'm not myself at all. (_Goes back to Rob._) _Rob._ You are our own Gaylie still. I know it; I can feel it in the warm clasp of your hand, in the clear light of your eyes.