_Gaylie._ Right, Rob: you're always right. For this dear old home, you, my earliest, best friends, are a part of this my heart; and that not all the teaching in the world could change. (_Goes to_ MRS. TRUEWORTH, _and kneels at her side_. ROB _goes up stage, and watches her_.) So here I am again, mother, at your feet. When my father went to that far-off land, years ago, in search of wealth, he left me here, and asked you to be a mother to his child. How well you took the place of her who died when I was so little, let this testify. I am now the heiress to his wealth; I have a home rich and attractive, servants at my call, much that can make life bright and beautiful: but I could part with all, sooner than lose the right to call this home, and you mother. _Mrs. T._ (_putting her arms about her_). Dear, dear child! You are my own; still the same fresh, warm heart. _Rob_ (_aside_). She's an angel. Had I but the power to call her mine! _Crimp_ (_outside_). Go 'way dar, you Jim! don't yer shake yer head at me. Go' way dar! help! murder! help! (_Tumbles in at door, as if "butted;" jumps up, runs, and shuts door, placing his back against it._) Go 'way, yer fool! Nobody to hum. _Rob._ What's the matter, Crimp? _Crimp._ Dat ole fo-fo, Jim, he will insist on squartin' me to de door, an' I don't want none of his attention. Go 'way, out dar: stop dat knockin' at do'! _Gaylie._ Oh, here's our black Cupid! Why, Crimp, old friend, aren't you going to speak to me? _Crimp_ (_comes down_). Why, bress my soul! No, 'tain't. Yes, it am: it's Miss Gaylie hersel'. You dear little honey! bress us an' save us, am dat yerself? _Gaylie_ (_taking his hand_). Yes, it's your old torment; home again, and ready for a frolic. _Crimp._ Wh-wh-at! bress yer purty face; yer ain't grown a mite; gwine fur a frolic; climb de yapple-trees, ride onto de darky's back. Oh, golly! what times we did hab, to be sho'! _Gaylie._ Only give me a chance, Crimp. I'm as spry as ever. _Crimp._ What! would you, dough, ride onto dis year darky's back? By golly! I'm obleeged to you. I's powerful glad to see ye back, honey. Comfort de ole lady, now Massa Rob gwine fur a sojer. _Gaylie._ What! our Rob a soldier? _Crimp._ Yaas, indeed! Don't you see de uniform? gwine along de tramp, tramp, tramp fellars, he am. _Rob._ Yes, Gaylie, enlisted for the war. _Gaylie._ But where are your shoulder-straps, your sword? _Rob._ I am but a private, Gaylie. The emblems of command are yet to be won: they'll come in time, I hope. _Gaylie._ I know they will. O Rob! I'm proud of you.