Of course. Men are like that, too. They are more ashamed of their tears than of their sins. They don’t mind showing a clenched fist, but a weeping eye, no! Father’s just the same. The afternoon they opened your vein and no blood came, he was sobbing away at his bench. It went right through me. But when I went up to him and stroked him on the cheek, what do you think he said? “See if you can’t get this damned shaving out of my eye. There’s so much to do and I’m not getting on with it at all.” MOTHER (_smiling_). Yes, yes.--I never see Leonard now. How is that? CLARA. Let him stay away. MOTHER. I hope you don’t see him anywhere except at home here. CLARA. Do I stay too long when I go to the well at night, that you start suspecting me? MOTHER. I don’t say that. But it was only to keep him from hanging about after you at nights in all weathers, that I let him come into the house at all. My mother wouldn’t allow that sort of thing, either. CLARA. I never see him at all. MOTHER. Have you been sulking with each other? I don’t dislike him. He’s so steady. If only he _was_ somebody! In my time he wouldn’t have had to wait long. The gentlefolk used to be as crazy after a good clerk, as a lame man after a crutch, for a good clerk was rare then. He was useful to small people like us, too. One day he would compose a New Year’s greeting from son to father, and would get as much for the gold lettering alone as would buy a child a doll. The next day the father would send for him, and have him read it aloud to him, secretly, with the door locked, lest he should be caught unawares, and show his ignorance. That meant double pay. Clerks were top-dog then, and raised the price of beer. But it’s different now. We old people, who can neither read nor write, are the laughing-stocks of nine-year-old boys. The world’s getting cleverer every day. Perhaps the time will come when we shall be ashamed if we can’t walk the tightrope. CLARA. There goes the church bell. MOTHER. Well, child, I will pray for you. And as for this Leonard of yours, love him as he loves God, neither more nor less. That’s what my old mother said to me when she was leaving this world, and giving me her blessing. I’ve kept it long enough and now I’ll pass it on to you. CLARA (_giving her a bunch of flowers_). There! MOTHER. I’m sure that came from Karl. CLARA (_nods, then aside_). I wish it did! If anything is to give her real pleasure, it’s got to come from him. MOTHER. Oh, he’s a good boy and loves his mother. (_Goes._) CLARA (_looking after her through the window_).