ting 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. [Gaily.] 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
