Sorry, mother, but I can’t let you read this one—at least all of it. You know brother and I always did confide in each other. I’ve often thought how much better we understand each other than most brothers and sisters, and how much more pleasant it is. I always feel sorry for girls who have no brothers and for boys who have no sisters. MR. BENSON You say you’re writin’ to Harry, Ethel? By jinks, I’d like to know how he is getting along on the old homestead. S’pose he’s got his grain most cleaned by now, and just waitin’ till it thaws out so he can get into the fields. I’d sure like to see that car load of yearlin’s he says he just bought. Bet that bunch he’s finishin’ for the June market is fine by now; you know he wrote last spring that they were lookin’ mighty promisin’ and he takes such pride in them, too. MRS. BENSON Harry does think a lot of the stock and that dear little wife he got takes such an interest in things, too, and she’s so encouraging. Did you notice the way she pulled him out of the blues once when they were first married? He always goes to her for advice in everything he does. MR. BENSON Yes, and by Jinks, her advice is worth somethin’ too. Harry always says that’s just the way he looks at it, but thought he’d ask her first. You know as how I used to always be against those agricultural colleges and never had much faith in ’em. Well, that pair has completely converted me. Harry never did like stock till he went away to school. As soon as he got back he began talkin’ as how we could improve ours, and as how many we ought to have more for the size of our farm. By jinks, I’ve got to slip out there fore long and see those cattle. _Ethel rises with two letters in hand and rings for the butler._ MRS. BENSON Looks as though you were confiding in someone else, too. ETHEL Oh no, just a letter to Mabel. MR. BENSON _Rising._ Ethel, if you don’t care I’ll take your letters to the box. I’ve simply got to get more fresh air. I’ve begun to feel like a house plant what’s bin sittin’ in the bay window all winter. When the hired man comes, tell him to fix up the fire. ETHEL All right, father. Be sure you put the letters in a mail box and not in the police telephone box like you did once. (_Exit Mr. Benson._) Mother, father makes me think of a bee in a drone’s hive; he’s just dying for something to do and there isn’t a thing around here to do that would satisfy him. He’s just aching to be out among the stock on the farm. I really feel sorry for him, but I guess there isn’t any way to better things; he’s not able to run the farm any longer. MRS. BENSON