Mayo! And you ought to be bowed in shame to think of it!
Robert—[Protestingly.] Pa! You’ve gone far enough. It’s a shame for you to talk that way!
Mrs. Mayo—[Coming from Andrew to his father; puts her hands on his shoulders as though to try and push him back in the chair from which he has risen.] Won’t you be still, James? Please won’t you?
Mayo—[Looking at Andrew over his wife’s shoulder-stubbornly.] The truth—God’s truth!
Mrs. Mayo—Sh-h-h! [She tries to put a finger across his lips, but he twists his head away.]
Andrew—[Who has regained control over himself.] You’re wrong, Pa, it isn’t truth. [With defiant assertiveness.] I don’t love Ruth. I never loved her, and the thought of such a thing never entered my head.
Mayo—[With an angry snort of disbelief.] Hump! You’re pilin’ lie on lie!
Andrew—[Losing his temper-bitterly.] I suppose it’d be hard for you to explain anyone’s wanting to leave this blessed farm except for some outside reason like that. You think these few measly acres are heaven, and that none’d want to ever do nothing in all their lives but stay right here and work like a dog all the time. But I’m sick and tired of it—whether you want to believe me or not—and that’s why I’m glad to get a chance to move on. I’ve been sick and tired of farm life for a long time, and if I hadn’t said anything about it, it was only to save
