Chapter V: Act TWO: Scene Two

_The top of a hill on the farm. It is about eleven o’clock the next morning. The day is hot and cloudless. In the distance the sea can be seen._

_The top of the hill slopes downward slightly toward the left. A big boulder stands in the center toward the rear. Further right, a large oak tree. The faint trace of a path leading upward to it from the left foreground can be detected through the bleached, sun-scorched grass._

ROBERT _is discovered sitting on the boulder, his chin resting on his hands, staring out toward the horizon seaward. His face is pale and haggard, his expression one of utter despondency._ MARY _is sitting on the grass near him in the shade, playing with her doll, singing happily to herself. Presently she casts a curious glance at her father, and, propping her doll up against the tree, comes over and clambers to his side._

MARY. (_pulling at his hand--solicitously_) Dada sick?

ROBERT. (_looking at her with a forced smile_) No, dear. Why?

MARY. Play wif Mary.

ROBERT. (_gently_) No, dear, not today. Dada doesn’t feel like playing today.

MARY. (_protestingly_) Yes, Dada!

ROBERT. No, dear. Dada does feel sick--a little. He’s got a bad headache.

MARY. Mary see. (_He bends his head. She pats his hair_) Bad head.

ROBERT. (_kissing her--with a smile_) There! It’s better now, dear, thank you. (_She cuddles up close against him. There is a pause during which each of them looks out seaward_) (_Finally_ ROBERT _turns to her tenderly_) Would you like Dada to go away?--far, far away?

MARY. (_tearfully_) No! No! No, Dada, no!

ROBERT. Don’t you like Uncle Andy--the man that came yesterday--not the old man with the white mustache--the other?

MARY. Mary loves Dada.

ROBERT. (_with fierce determination_) He won’t go away, baby. He was only joking. He couldn’t leave his little Mary. (_He presses the child in his arms_).

MARY. (_with an exclamation of pain_) Oh! Hurt!

ROBERT. I’m sorry, little girl. (_He lifts her down to the grass_) Go play with Dolly, that’s a good girl; and be careful to keep in the shade. (_She reluctantly leaves him and takes up her doll again. A moment later she points down the hill to the left_).

MARY. Mans, Dada.

ROBERT. (_looking that way_) It’s your Uncle Andy. (_A moment later_ ANDREW _comes up from the left, whistling cheerfully. He has changed but little in appearance, except for the fact that his face has been deeply bronzed by his years in the tropics; but there is a decided change in his manner. The old easy-going good-nature seems to have been partly lost in a breezy, business-like briskness of voice and gesture. There is an authoritative note in his speech as though he were accustomed to give orders and have them obeyed as a matter of course. He is dressed in the simple blue uniform and cap of a merchant ship’s officer_).

ANDREW. Here you are, eh?

ROBERT. Hello, Andy.

ANDREW. (_going over to_ MARY) And who’s this young lady I find you all alone with, eh? Who’s this pretty young lady? (_He tickles the laughing, squirming_ MARY, _then lifts her up at arm’s length over his head_) Upsy--daisy! (_He sets her down on the ground again_) And there you are! (_He walks over and sits down on the boulder beside_ ROBERT _who moves to one side to make room for him_) Ruth told me I’d probably find you up top-side here; but I’d have guessed it, anyway. (_He digs his brother in the ribs affectionately_) Still up to your old tricks, you old beggar! I can remember how you used to come up here to mope and dream in the old days.

ROBERT. (_with a smile_) I come up here now because it’s the coolest place on the farm. I’ve given up dreaming.

ANDREW. (_grinning_) I don’t believe it. You can’t have changed that much. (_After a pause--with boyish enthusiasm_) Say, it sure brings back old times to be up here with you having a chin all by our lonesomes again. I feel great being back home.

ROBERT. It’s great for us to have you back.

ANDREW. (_after a pause--meaningly_) I’ve been looking over the old place with Ruth. Things don’t seem to be----

ROBERT. (_his face flushing--interrupts his brother shortly_) Never mind the damn farm! Let’s talk about something interesting. This is the first chance I’ve had to have a word with you alone. Tell me about your trip.

ANDREW. Why, I thought I told you everything in my letters.

ROBERT. (_smiling_) Your letters were--sketchy, to say the least.

ANDREW. Oh, I know I’m no author. You needn’t be afraid of hurting my feelings. I’d rather go through a typhoon again than write a letter.

ROBERT. (_with eager interest_) Then you were through a typhoon?

ANDREW. Yes--in the China sea. Had to run before it under bare poles for two days. I thought we were bound down for Davy Jones, sure. Never dreamed waves could get so big or the wind blow so hard. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Dick being such a good skipper we’d have gone to the sharks, all of us. As it was we came out minus a main top-mast and had to beat back to Hong-Kong for repairs. But I must have written you all this.

ROBERT. You never mentioned it.

ANDREW. Well, there was so much dirty work getting things ship-shape again I must have forgotten about it.

ROBERT. (_looking at_ ANDREW--_marveling_) Forget a typhoon? (_with a trace of scorn_) You’re a strange combination, Andy. And is what you’ve told me all you remember about it?

ANDREW. Oh, I could give you your bellyful of details if I wanted to turn loose on you. It was all-wool-and-a-yard-wide-Hell, I’ll tell you. You ought to have been there. I remember thinking about you at the worst of it, and saying to myself: “This’d cure Rob of them ideas of his about the beautiful sea, if he could see it.” And it would have too, you bet! (_He nods emphatically_).

ROBERT. (_dryly_) The sea doesn’t seem to have impressed you very favorably.

ANDREW. I should say it didn’t! I’ll never set foot on a ship again if I can help it--except to carry me some place I can’t get to by train.

ROBERT. But you studied to become an officer!

ANDREW. Had to do something or I’d gone mad. The days were like years. (_He laughs_) And as for the East you used to rave about--well, you ought to see it, and _smell_ it! One walk down one of their filthy narrow streets with the tropic sun beating on it would sicken you for life with the “wonder and mystery” you used to dream of.

ROBERT. (_shrinking from his brother with a glance of aversion_) So all you found in the East was a stench?

ANDREW. _A_ stench! Ten thousand of them!

ROBERT. But you did like some of the places, judging from your letters--Sydney, Buenos Aires----

ANDREW. Yes, Sydney’s a good town. (_Enthusiastically_) But Buenos Aires--there’s the place for you. Argentine’s a country where a fellow has a chance to make good. You’re right I like it. And I’ll tell you, Rob, that’s right where I’m going just as soon as I’ve seen you folks a while and can get a ship. I can get a berth as second officer, and I’ll jump the ship when I get there. I’ll need every cent of the wages Uncle’s paid me to get a start at something in B. A.

ROBERT. (_staring at his brother--slowly_) So you’re not going to stay on the farm?

ANDREW. Why sure not! Did you think I was? There wouldn’t be any sense. One of us is enough to run this little place.

ROBERT. I suppose it does seem small to you now.

ANDREW. (_not noticing the sarcasm in_ ROBERT’S _voice_) You’ve no idea, Rob, what a splendid place Argentine is. I had a letter from a marine insurance chap that I’d made friends with in Hong-Kong to his brother, who’s in the grain business in Buenos Aires. He took quite a fancy to me, and what’s more important, he offered me a job if I’d come back there. I’d have taken it on the spot, only I couldn’t leave Uncle Dick in the lurch, and I’d promised you folks to come home. But I’m going back there, you bet, and then you watch me get on! (_He slaps_ ROBERT _on the back_) But don’t you think it’s a big chance, Rob?

ROBERT. It’s fine--for you, Andy.

ANDREW. We call this a farm--but you ought to hear about the farms down there--ten square miles where we’ve got an acre. It’s a new country where big things are opening up--and I want to get in on something big before I die. I’m no fool when it comes to farming, and I know something about grain. I’ve been reading up a lot on it, too, lately. (_He notices_ ROBERT’S _absent-minded expression and laughs_) Wake up, you old poetry book worm, you! I know my talking about business makes you want to choke me, doesn’t it?

ROBERT. (_with an embarrassed smile_) No, Andy, I--I just happened to think of something else. (_Frowning_) There’ve been lots of times lately that I’ve wished I had some of your faculty for business.

ANDREW. (_soberly_) There’s something I want to talk about, Rob,--the farm. You don’t mind, do you?

ROBERT. No.

ANDREW. I walked over it this morning with Ruth--and she told me about things---- (_Evasively_) I could see the place had run down; but you mustn’t blame yourself. When luck’s against anyone----

ROBERT. Don’t, Andy! It _is_ my fault. You know it as well as I do. The best I’ve ever done was to make ends meet.

ANDREW. (_after a pause_) I’ve got over a thousand saved, and you can have that.

ROBERT. (_firmly_) No. You need that for your start in Buenos Aires.

ANDREW. I don’t. I can----

ROBERT. (_determinedly_) No, Andy! Once and for all, no! I won’t hear of it!

ANDREW. (_protestingly_) You obstinate old son of a gun!

ROBERT. Oh, everything’ll be on a sound footing after harvest. Don’t worry about it.

ANDREW. (_doubtfully_) Maybe. (_After a pause_) It’s too bad Pa couldn’t have lived to see things through. (_With feeling_) It cut me up a lot--hearing he was dead. He never--softened up, did he--about me, I mean?

ROBERT. He never understood, that’s a kinder way of putting it. He does now.

ANDREW. (_after a pause_) You’ve forgotten all about what--caused me to go, haven’t you, Rob? (ROBERT _nods but keeps his face averted_) I was a slushier damn fool in those days than you were. But it was an act of Providence I did go. It opened my eyes to how I’d been fooling myself. Why, I’d forgotten all about--that--before I’d been at sea six months.

ROBERT. (_turns and looks into_ ANDREW’S _eyes searchingly_) You’re speaking of--Ruth?

ANDREW. (_confused_) Yes. I didn’t want you to get false notions in your head, or I wouldn’t say anything. (_Looking_ ROBERT _squarely in the eyes_) I’m telling you the truth when I say I’d forgotten long ago. It don’t sound well for me, getting over things so easy, but I guess it never really amounted to more than a kid idea I was letting rule me. I’m certain now I never was in love--I was getting fun out of thinking I was--and being a hero to myself. (_He heaves a great sigh of relief_) There! Gosh, I’m glad that’s off my chest. I’ve been feeling sort of awkward ever since I’ve been home, thinking of what you two might think. (_A trace of appeal in his voice_) You’ve got it all straight now, haven’t you, Rob?

ROBERT. (_in a low voice_) Yes, Andy.

ANDREW. And I’ll tell Ruth, too, if I can get up the nerve. She must feel kind of funny having me round--after what used to be--and not knowing how I feel about it.

ROBERT. (_slowly_) Perhaps--for her sake--you’d better not tell her.

ANDREW. For her sake? Oh, you mean she wouldn’t want to be reminded of my foolishness? Still, I think it’d be worse if----

ROBERT. (_breaking out--in an agonized voice_) Do as you please, Andy; but for God’s sake, let’s not talk about it! (_There is a pause._ ANDREW _stares at_ ROBERT _in hurt stupefaction._ ROBERT _continues after a moment in a voice which he vainly attempts to keep calm_) Excuse me, Andy. This rotten headache has my nerves shot to pieces.

ANDREW. (_mumbling_) It’s all right, Rob--long as you’re not sore at me.

ROBERT. Where did Uncle Dick disappear to this morning?

ANDREW. He went down to the port to see to things on the _Sunda_. He said he didn’t know exactly when he’d be back. I’ll have to go down and tend to the ship when he comes. That’s why I dressed up in these togs.

MARY. (_pointing down the hill to the left_) See! Mama! Mama! (_She struggles to her feet._ RUTH _appears at left. She is dressed in white, shows she has been fixing up. She looks pretty, flushed and full of life_).

MARY. (_running to her mother_) Mama!

RUTH. (_kissing her_) Hello, dear! (_She walks toward the rock and addresses_ ROBERT _coldly_) Jake wants to see you about something. He finished working where he was. He’s waiting for you at the road.

ROBERT. (_getting up--wearily_) I’ll go down right away. (_As he looks at_ RUTH, _noting her changed appearance, his face darkens with pain_).

RUTH. And take Mary with you, please. (_To_ MARY) Go with Dada, that’s a good girl. Grandma has your dinner most ready for you.

ROBERT. (_shortly_) Come, Mary!

MARY. (_taking his hand and dancing happily beside him_) Dada! Dada! (_They go down the hill to the left._ RUTH _looks after them for a moment, frowning--then turns to_ ANDY _with a smile_) I’m going to sit down. Come on, Andy. It’ll be like old times. (_She jumps lightly to the top of the rock and sits down_) It’s so fine and cool up here after the house.

ANDREW. (_half-sitting on the side of the boulder_) Yes. It’s great.

RUTH. I’ve taken a holiday in honor of your arrival. (_Laughing excitedly_) I feel so free I’d like to have wings and fly over the sea. You’re a man. You can’t know how awful and stupid it is--cooking and washing dishes all the time.

ANDREW. (_making a wry face_) I can guess.

RUTH. Besides, your mother just insisted on getting your first dinner to home, she’s that happy at having you back. You’d think I was planning to poison you the flurried way she shooed me out of the kitchen.

ANDREW. That’s just like Ma, bless her!

RUTH. She’s missed you terrible. We all have. And you can’t deny the farm has, after what I showed you and told you when we was looking over the place this morning.

ANDREW. (_with a frown_) Things are run down, that’s a fact! It’s too darn hard on poor old Rob.

RUTH. (_scornfully_) It’s his own fault. He never takes any interest in things.

ANDREW. (_reprovingly_) You can’t blame him. He wasn’t born for it; but I know he’s done his best for your sake and the old folks and the little girl.

RUTH. (_indifferently_) Yes, I suppose he has. (_Gayly_) But thank the Lord, all those days are over now. The “hard luck” Rob’s always blaming won’t last long when you take hold, Andy. All the farm’s ever needed was someone with the knack of looking ahead and preparing for what’s going to happen.

ANDREW. Yes, Rob hasn’t got that. He’s frank to own up to that himself. I’m going to try and hire a good man for him--an experienced farmer--to work the place on a salary and percentage. That’ll take it off of Rob’s hands, and he needn’t be worrying himself to death any more. He looks all worn out, Ruth. He ought to be careful.

RUTH. (_absent-mindedly_) Yes, I s’pose. (_Her mind is filled with premonitions by the first part of his statement_) Why do you want to hire a man to oversee things? Seems as if now that you’re back it wouldn’t be needful.

ANDREW. Oh, of course I’ll attend to everything while I’m here. I mean after I’m gone.

RUTH. (_as if she couldn’t believe her ears_) Gone!

ANDREW. Yes. When I leave for the Argentine again.

RUTH. (_aghast_) You’re going away to sea!

ANDREW. Not to sea, no; I’m through with the sea for good as a job. I’m going down to Buenos Aires to get in the grain business.

RUTH. But--that’s far off--isn’t it?

ANDREW. (_easily_) Six thousand miles more or less. It’s quite a trip. (_With enthusiasm_) I’ve got a peach of a chance down there, Ruth. Ask Rob if I haven’t. I’ve just been telling him all about it.

RUTH. (_a flush of anger coming over her face_) And didn’t he try to stop you from going?

ANDREW. (_in surprise_) No, of course not. Why?

RUTH. (_slowly and vindictively_) That’s just like him--not to.

ANDREW. (_resentfully_) Rob’s too good a chum to try and stop me when he knows I’m set on a thing. And he could see just as soon’s I told him what a good chance it was.

RUTH. (_dazedly_) And you’re bound on going?

ANDREW. Sure thing. Oh, I don’t mean right off. I’ll have to wait for a ship sailing there for quite a while, likely. Anyway, I want to stay to home and visit with you folks a spell before I go.

RUTH. (_dumbly_) I s’pose. (_With sudden anguish_) Oh, Andy, you can’t go! You can’t. Why we’ve all thought--we’ve all been hoping and praying you was coming home to stay, to settle down on the farm and see to things. You mustn’t go! Think of how your Ma’ll take on if you go--and how the farm’ll be ruined if you leave it to Rob to look after. You can see that.

ANDREW. (_frowning_) Rob hasn’t done so bad. When I get a man to direct things the farm’ll be safe enough.

RUTH. (_insistently_) But your Ma--think of her.

ANDREW. She’s used to me being away. She won’t object when she knows it’s best for her and all of us for me to go. You ask Rob. In a couple of years down there I’ll make my pile, see if I don’t; and then I’ll come back and settle down and turn this farm into the crackiest place in the whole state. In the meantime, I can help you both from down there. (_Earnestly_) I tell you, Ruth, I’m going to make good right from the minute I land, if working hard and a determination to get on can do it; and I _know_ they can! (_Excitedly--in a rather boastful tone_) I tell you, I feel ripe for bigger things than settling down here. The trip did that for me, anyway. It showed me the world is a larger proposition than ever I thought it was in the old days. I couldn’t be content any more stuck here like a fly in molasses. It all seems trifling, somehow. You ought to be able to understand what I feel.

RUTH. (_dully_) Yes--I s’pose I ought. (_After a pause--a sudden suspicion forming in her mind_) What did Rob tell you--about me?

ANDREW. Tell? About you? Why, nothing.

RUTH. (_staring at him intensely_) Are you telling me the truth, Andy Mayo? Didn’t he say--I---- (_She stops confusedly_).

ANDREW. (_surprised_) No, he didn’t mention you, I can remember. Why? What made you think he did?

RUTH. (_wringing her hands_) Oh, I wish I could tell if you’re lying or not!

ANDREW. (_indignantly_) What’re you talking about? I didn’t used to lie to you, did I? And what in the name of God is there to lie for?

RUTH. (_still unconvinced_) Are you sure--will you swear--it isn’t the reason---- (_She lowers her eyes and half turns away from him_) The same reason that made you go last time that’s driving you away again? ’Cause if it is--I was going to say--you mustn’t go--on that account. (_Her voice sinks to a tremulous, tender whisper as she finishes_).

ANDREW. (_confused--forces a laugh_) Oh, is that what you’re driving at? Well, you needn’t worry about that no more---- (_Soberly_) I don’t blame you, Ruth, feeling embarrassed having me around again, after the way I played the dumb fool about going away last time.

RUTH. (_her hope crushed--with a gasp of pain_) Oh, Andy!

ANDREW. (_misunderstanding_) I know I oughtn’t to talk about such foolishness to you. Still I figure it’s better to get it out of my system so’s we three can be together same’s years ago, and not be worried thinking one of us might have the wrong notion.

RUTH. Andy! Please! Don’t!

ANDREW. Let me finish now that I’ve started. It’ll help clear things up. I don’t want you to think once a fool always a fool, and be upset all the time I’m here on my fool account. I want you to believe I put all that silly nonsense back of me a long time ago--and now--it seems--well--as if you’d always been my sister, that’s what, Ruth.

RUTH. (_at the end of her endurance--laughing hysterically_) For God’s sake, Andy--won’t you please stop talking! (_She again hides her face in her hands, her bowed shoulders trembling_).

ANDREW. (_ruefully_) Seem’s if I put my foot in it whenever I open my mouth today. Rob shut me up with almost the same words when I tried speaking to him about it.

RUTH. (_fiercely_) You told him--what you’ve told me?

ANDREW. (_astounded_) Why sure! Why not?

RUTH. (_shuddering_) Oh, my God!

ANDREW. (_alarmed_) Why? Shouldn’t I have?

RUTH. (_hysterically_) Oh, I don’t care what you do! I don’t care! Leave me alone! (ANDREW _gets up and walks down the hill to the left, embarrassed, hurt, and greatly puzzled by her behavior_).

ANDREW. (_after a pause--pointing down the hill_) Hello! Here they come back--and the Captain’s with them. How’d he come to get back so soon, I wonder? That means I’ve got to hustle down to the port and get on board. Rob’s got the baby with him. (_He comes back to the boulder._ RUTH _keeps her face averted from him_) Gosh, I never saw a father so tied up in a kid as Rob is! He just watches every move she makes. And I don’t blame him. You both got a right to feel proud of her. She’s surely a little winner. (_He glances at_ RUTH _to see if this very obvious attempt to get back in her good graces is having any effect_) I can see the likeness to Rob standing out all over her, can’t you? But there’s no denying she’s your young one, either. There’s something about her eyes----

RUTH. (_piteously_) Oh, Andy, I’ve a headache! I don’t want to talk! Leave me alone, won’t you please?

ANDREW. (_stands staring at her for a moment--then walks away saying in a hurt tone_): Everybody hereabouts seems to be on edge today. I begin to feel as if I’m not wanted around. (_He stands near the path, left, kicking at the grass with the toe of his shoe. A moment later_ CAPTAIN DICK SCOTT _enters, followed by_ ROBERT _carrying_ MARY. _The_ CAPTAIN _seems scarcely to have changed at all from the jovial, booming person he was three years before. He wears a uniform similar to_ ANDREW’S. _He is puffing and breathless from his climb and mops wildly at his perspiring countenance._ ROBERT _casts a quick glance at_ ANDREW, _noticing the latter’s discomfited look, and then turns his eyes on_ RUTH _who, at their approach, has moved so her back is toward them, her chin resting on her hands as she stares out seaward_).

MARY. Mama! Mama! (ROBERT _puts her down and she runs to her mother._ RUTH _turns and grabs her up in her arms with a sudden fierce tenderness, quickly turning away again from the others. During the following scene she keeps_ MARY _in her arms_).

SCOTT. (_wheezily_) Phew! I got great news for you, Andy. Let me get my wind first. Phew! God A’mighty, mountin’ this damned hill is worser’n goin’ aloft to the skys’l yard in a blow. I got to lay to a while. (_He sits down on the grass, mopping his face_).

ANDREW. I didn’t look for you this soon, Uncle.

SCOTT. I didn’t figger it, neither; but I run across a bit o’ news down to the Seamen’s Home made me ’bout ship and set all sail back here to find you.

ANDREW. (_eagerly_) What is it, Uncle?

SCOTT. Passin’ by the Home I thought I’d drop in an’ let ’em know I’d be lackin’ a mate next trip count o’ your leavin’. Their man in charge o’ the shippin’ asked after you ’special curious. “Do you think he’d consider a berth as Second on a steamer, Captain?” he asks. I was goin’ to say no when I thinks o’ you wantin’ to get back down south to the Plate agen; so I asks him: “What is she and where’s she bound?” “She’s the _El Paso_, a brand new tramp,” he says, “and she’s bound for Buenos Aires.”

ANDREW. (_his eyes lighting up--excitedly_) Gosh, that is luck! When does she sail?

SCOTT. Tomorrow mornin’. I didn’t know if you’d want to ship away agen so quick an’ I told him so. “Tell him I’ll hold the berth open for him until late this afternoon,” he says. So there you be, an’ you can make your own choice.

ANDREW. I’d like to take it. There may not be another ship for Buenos Aires with a vacancy in months. (_His eyes roving from_ ROBERT _to_ RUTH _and back again--uncertainly_) Still--damn it all--tomorrow morning is soon. I wish she wasn’t leaving for a week or so. That’d give me a chance--it seems hard to go right away again when I’ve just got home. And yet it’s a chance in a thousand---- (_Appealing to_ ROBERT) What do you think, Rob? What would you do?

ROBERT. (_forcing a smile_) He who hesitates, you know. (_Frowning_) It’s a piece of good luck thrown in your way--and--I think you owe it to yourself to jump at it. But don’t ask me to decide for you.

RUTH. (_turning to look at_ ANDREW--_in a tone of fierce resentment_) Yes, go, Andy! (_She turns quickly away again. There is a moment of embarrassed silence_).

ANDREW. (_thoughtfully_) Yes, I guess I will. It’ll be the best thing for all of us in the end, don’t you think so, Rob? (ROBERT _nods but remains silent_).

SCOTT. (_getting to his feet_) Then, that’s settled.

ANDREW. (_now that he has definitely made a decision his voice rings with hopeful strength and energy_) Yes, I’ll take the berth. The sooner I go the sooner I’ll be back, that’s a certainty; and I won’t come back with empty hands next time. You bet I won’t!

SCOTT. You ain’t got so much time, Andy. To make sure you’d best leave here soon’s you kin. I got to get right back aboard. You’d best come with me.

ANDREW. I’ll go to the house and repack my bag right away.

ROBERT. (_quietly_) You’ll both be here for dinner, won’t you?

ANDREW. (_worriedly_) I don’t know. Will there be time? What time is it now, I wonder?

ROBERT. (_reproachfully_) Ma’s been getting dinner especially for you, Andy.

ANDREW. (_flushing--shame-facedly_) Hell! And I was forgetting! Of course I’ll stay for dinner if I missed every damned ship in the world. (_He turns to the_ CAPTAIN--_briskly_) Come on, Uncle. Walk down with me to the house and you can tell me more about this berth on the way. I’ve got to pack before dinner. (_He and the_ CAPTAIN _start down to the left_. ANDREW _calls back over his shoulder_) You’re coming soon, aren’t you, Rob?

ROBERT. Yes. I’ll be right down. (ANDREW _and the_ CAPTAIN _leave_. RUTH _puts_ MARY _on the ground and hides her face in her hands. Her shoulders shake as if she were sobbing._ ROBERT _stares at her with a grim, somber expression_. MARY _walks backward toward_ ROBERT, _her wondering eyes fixed on her mother_).

MARY. (_her voice vaguely frightened, taking her father’s hand_) Dada, Mama’s cryin’, Dada.

ROBERT. (_bending down and stroking her hair--in a voice he endeavors to keep from being harsh_) No, she isn’t, little girl. The sun hurts her eyes, that’s all. Aren’t you beginning to feel hungry, Mary?

MARY. (_decidedly_) Yes, Dada.

ROBERT. (_meaningly_) It must be your dinner time now.

RUTH. (_in a muffled voice_) I’m coming, Mary. (_She wipes her eyes quickly and, without looking at_ ROBERT, _comes and takes_ MARY’S _hand--in a dead voice_) Come on and I’ll get your dinner for you. (_She walks out left, her eyes fixed on the ground, the skipping_ MARY _tugging at her hand_. ROBERT _waits a moment for them to get ahead and then slowly follows as_

(_The Curtain Falls_)

BEYOND THE HORIZON

ACT THREE