out of reading? Is it because——— [He checks himself abruptly.]
Ruth—[Coloring.] Because I’m too stupid to understand them, I s’pose you were going to say.
Robert—[Shame-facedly.] No—no. [In exasperation.] Oh, Ruth, why do you want to pick quarrels like this? Why do you goad me into saying things I don’t mean? Haven’t I got my share of troubles trying to work this cursed farm without your adding to them? You know how hard I’ve tried to keep things going in spite of bad luck———
Ruth—[Scornfully.] Bad luck!
Robert—And my own very apparent unfitness for the job, I was going to add; but you can’t deny there’s been bad luck to it, too. You know how unsuited I am to the work and how I hate it; and I’ve managed to fight along somehow. Why don’t you take things into consideration? Why can’t we pull together? We used to. I know it’s hard on you also. Then why can’t we help each other instead of hindering? That’s the only way we can make life bearable for each other.
Ruth—[Sullenly.] I do the best I know how.
Robert—[Gets up and puts his hand on, her shoulder.] I know you do. But let’s both of us try to do better. We can both improve. Say a word of encouragement once in a while when things go wrong, even if it is my fault. You know the odds I’ve been up against since Pa died. I’m not a farmer. I’ve never claimed to be one. But there’s nothing else
