Miss Mary. To restore him to a regenerated home. With this idea he followed his prodigal to California. I, you understand, was only an after-thought consequent upon his success. He came to California upon this pilgrimage two years ago. He had no recollection, so they tell me, by which he could recognize this erring son; and at first his search was wild, profitless, and almost hopeless. But by degrees, and with a persistency that seemed to increase with his hopelessness, he was rewarded by finding some clew to him at--at--at-- Sandy (excitedly). At Poker Flat? Miss Mary. Ah, perhaps you know the story,--at Poker Flat. He traced him to the Mission of San Carmel. Sandy. Yes, miss: go on. Miss Mary. He was more successful than he deserved, perhaps. He found him. I see you know the story. Sandy. Found him! Found him! Miss, did you say found him? Miss Mary. Yes, found him. And today Alexander Morton, the reclaimed prodigal, is part of the household I am invited to join. So you see, Mr. Sandy, there is still hope. What has happened to him is only a promise to you. Eh! Mr. Sandy--what is the matter? Are you ill? Your exertion this morning, perhaps. Speak to me! Gracious heavens, he is going mad! No! No! Yes--it cannot be--it is--he HAS broken his promise: he is drunk again. Sandy (rising, excited and confused). Excuse me, miss, I am a little onsartain HERE (pointing to his head). I can't--I disremember--what you said jus' now: ye mentioned the name o' that prodigal that was found. Miss Mary. Certainly: compose yourself,--my cousin's son, Alexander Morton. Listen, Sandy, you promised ME, you know, you said for MY sake you would not touch a drop. (Enter cautiously toward schoolhouse the DUCHESS, stops on observing SANDY, and hides behind rock.) Sandy (still bewildered and incoherent). I reckon. Harkin, miss, is that thar thing (pointing towards rock where DUCHESS is concealed)--is that a tree, or--or--a woman? Is it sorter movin' this way? Miss Mary (laying her hand on SANDY'S). Recover your senses, for Heaven's sake, Sandy,--for MY sake! It is only a tree. Sandy (rising). Then, miss, I've broke my word with ye: I'm drunk. P'r'aps I'd better be a-goin' (looking round confusedly) till I'm sober. (Going toward L.) Miss Mary (seizing his hand). But you'll see me again, Sandy: you'll come here--before--before--I go? Sandy. Yes, miss,--before ye go. (Staggers stupidly toward L. Aside.) Found him! found Alexander Morton! It's a third time, Sandy, the third time: it means--it means--you're mad! (Laughs wildly, and exit L.)